I'm breathless, holding her cum-stained pink panties, and trying to gather my bearings, when I hear it again.
“Nick.”
Chapter 13
Nick
Thevoicesendsachill through me that seeps into my spine, making everything inside of me freeze. Even my heart stops for a second before beginning, beating double-time to try and catch back up.
I stuff my cock back into my pants and pocket her panties, squinting through the holes in the panel that separates this booth from the next, trying to see if there's anyone in there.
"Who's there?" I growl, annoyed at the thought of some little perv on the other side listening to me jerk off.
"You don't like having an audience?"
The voice is low, like they're whispering on purpose, and also somehow familiar.
I slam my palm against the divider, hoping to startle them into leaving. I don't want to start a fight with someone on Christmas Eve in my father's church. He'd beat the shit out of me if I caused any friction tonight. This is the biggest of the year for our church.
"No, I don't, you little freak!" I grit, wiping my palm against the panties in my pocket, clearing away any signs of my indiscretion.
"You only like your best friends watching?" Someone scoffs. "Is that it? You only want an audience when you want other people to see what a big, bad man you are?"
"What the fuck?"
"You play at both sides, Nick. One minute you're trying to convince everyone you're a good church boy, the pastor's perfect son. The next minute, you're trying to convince your friends you're a big, strong man, that you're in control and have all the power."
"Who the fuck are you?"
"Does it make you feel better to take power from innocent girls? Does it help make you feel less like the little kid who had to do everything his daddy told him to?"
It's like all the air is sucked out of the room at once, leaving me in a vacuum. I don't even try to breathe, suspended in motion as I process the words that just fell around me.
"What?"
"Raping women. Is that how you heal your inner child, or is it just a hobby?"
My brain is having a hard time catching up to my reality, which is that I'm in a fucking confessional with someone across from me making accusations they shouldn't know anything about.
"I don't do that." I say, my voice cold and hard in an attempt to shut off all further conversation. "I've never…"
"If you have to drug them, they weren't willing. And you've done that more than once, haven't you?"
My mind is playing tricks on me; that's it. This isn't real.
"No." I technically haven't ever drugged anyone. If I'm out with a girl and she drinks too much, that's not my fault. And ifCole or Brant slip something in her drink to make her a little more compliant, it's not me being a predator.
I'm simply an opportunist.
"I don't know who you are or what your play is here, but you're wrong. I'm not a fucking rapist."
I throw open the door to the confessional and stalk away from it, needing the space to cool off before I do something that is going to get me in trouble. I really can't afford any extra eyes on me right now, with everything going on with Nikki.
But the voice follows me.
"Running away, Nick? Really? You seemed so annoyed when Cole did it to you."
The words are enough to stop me in my tracks, and I wheel around, ready to lay out whoever the fuck has the audacity to talk to me like this. But there's no one there.
