“You didn’t say there were any conditionsto buying us drinks.” I add.
“What is it that you were expecting?” She finishes.
He firmly grabs my arm and forces me to plop in the seat next to him, “You’resupposedto sit and drink with me.” His face is turning beet red, and I’m beginning to wonder if this guy is drunk enough to make a scene. Honestly, I’ve been keeping calm about his proximity thus far, but there’s only so much I can take.
“Hey buddy, keep your hands to your self,” I vaguely register Ash saying. From the rough treatment and the awful stench, it’s like I’m hearing it all through a wind tunnel, thanks the roaring in my ears. The room starts to spin again, and I fight for balance.
I push off my chair, slam my beer on the bar top, and lurch toward the bathroom. Fortunately, it’s not a busy enough night that there’s a line, so I beeline to a stall and barely make it in time before the food and all the beer force their way back up.
Within seconds, Isla kneels beside me and holds my hair back as I retch again and again. It’s not the first time she’s witnessed a panic attack, but it is the first time it’s been accompanied by bar music and a symphony of drunk idiots.
“Hey babes,” she soothes, “Ash is calling us a cab, okay?” All I can do is nod my head. “I can’t believe that guy put his hands on you like that. But don’t you worry, he gets to wear half a vodka tonic and an entire pint of beer for the rest of the night.”
“Ohhh god, don’t make me laugh, I’m gonna vom again,” I do not want to spend any more time on my knees in a public restroom. She gently helps me to my feet, then wets a paper towel and hands it to me.
“You good to walk? I bet the cab’s here by now.”She’s rubbing my back like I’m a child. God, this is humiliating.As we make our way outside, I keep my head down. I don’t even want to chance a glimpse of that asshole.
When we get to the taxi, I duck inside, lay my head against the seat and try not to let my mind wander back to why that man had such an overwhelming effect on me. He’s definitely not the first dickhead to think he had a right to my body, but usually, I can deal with it. Could something as insignificant as cologne really send me back to that place so quickly? I guess so.
* * *
Pulling up to my house, Isla hops out first and gives our driver her signature, ultra-friendly send-off before linking her arm in mine and carting me inside.
“Since your stomach is totally empty now, we should order a pizza!” she gushes.
“Sure. Just give me a minute to change and brush my fuckin teeth,” I justknowthat I smell rank right now. “Do you need some sweats?”
“Please!” she nods, “I’ll order while you go do your thing.”
I make my way toward my en-suite bathroom and pull my hair up out of my face. After brushing my teeth and changing into my designated home sweats, I grab a fresh pair from the dryer for Isla.
Her and I being nearly the same clothing size has been a godsend. We both grew up being the only girls bigger than a size two, so when we found each other and could finally experience the glory of sharing clothes, it was nothing short of life-changing.
I hand her the clothes, and as she walks down the hall, she shouts back to me, “I’m going to just use Charlies room tonight, okay?” She should just start calling it her room since she stays in there every time she’s here.
She returns, having changed into the unofficial uniform for pizza and movies. We turn on whatever some new rom-com for background noise and spend a few minutes unwinding by playing on our phones.
I’m reading, of course. Prepping for the new book I need to start tomorrow.Demon summoning? And there’s no spice? Just a plain old horror book. That’ll be a good break from all the fake moaning and noisemakers.And I’m pretty sure Isla is prepping for her presentation next week.
When the pizza finally arrives we dive in, not bothering with plates. We have this routine down so much it’s nearly clockwork now. Bar, home, sweats, pizza. There’s nowhere I’d rather be than right here with my best friend, but I know she dreams of so much more. Love, kids, the whole happily ever after thing. I just want to enjoy a quiet life, left to my own devices.Lots of devices.
Isla gives me the respect of not trying to ask about the events earlier in the night. She knows by now that I won’t talk about it, not about tonight or why it was so triggering. Anytime my past comes up, she gives me this look so full of pity it makes me sick. I don’t need her feeling bad for me. What I went through wasn’t even a big deal. Everyone’s first time having sex is a disaster, so why should I— or anyone else, for that matter— feel sorry about it?
After we are both stuffed and sleepy, I pour myself into bed, and she does the same. She’s a morning person—ew—so she’ll be up and out of here long before I’m ready to drag my ass out of bed.
In my still half-drunk state, I do my best not to let tonight’s events tear me back years in time, butfuck,it’s so difficult sometimes. Try as I might, the last thing I remember before falling into a fitful sleep is memories of wild, hateful blue eyes and unwelcome hands.
The Prude and The Papercut
Bel
After the disaster that was Friday night, the only thing I want to do is focus on my next project. Dragging myself out of bed, I go about my morning— okay, late morning— routine. After brushing my teeth and smoothing my hair into a braid down my back, I brew my coffee in one of my best punny mugs and make myself a bagel and some eggs. I take my breakfast and set it on the kitchen table next to my computer.
The best part of working from home is being able to do it in my pajamas. I just have to change from mysleepingjammies to myworkingones. Neither set are acceptable for others to see, but at least these ones don’t have tears in the seams from years of usage.
Glancing at my phone halfway through breakfast I see a few texts I’ve missed.
Isla: Hey, I’m thinking this year we go on vacation for Christmas.
