I was completely on my own.
“Yeah, it does kind of matter,” I snapped, and his eyes flashed angrily. “Because it’s my name.”
“Of course it is, babe.” He loosened my hand long enough to slide it around my waist. With one jerk, he pulled me into his body and crushed me against his polo shirt. “I know you’re name is Sophia. But in my head, I just call you beautiful.” He whistled through his teeth. “Especially in that dress.”
His hand, tanned from the beach, roved up and down my back, lifting the sequinned pink dress high on my thighs.
Scrambling, I tried to pull it down, but his hand kept it barely below my ass.
“What do you mean?” The music was so loud that my voice sounded like a whisper.
“I mean, when we met, I could see you were pretty, but damn.” His hand slid down and cupped my ass. “I didn’t really think your body was like this.”
Over and over again, he squeezed me, so hard that I lifted myself onto my tiptoes to try and get away from it, only he wouldn’t let go.
Fear twisted my gut. I was in the middle of a party, but I didn’t know these people. I couldn’t be sure anyone would come to my aid if I needed help.
Hell, I wasn’t even sure I did need help. Yes, he was making me uncomfortable, but was he actually doing anything wrong?
“I think we should go upstairs.” The time when he squeezed my ass, he lifted me, rubbing me against the hard bulge in his jeans that left nothing to the imagination. “I’m going to need to see what else you’re hiding from me under that dress.”
“I uh…no.” The words were barely a squeak.
“What the fuck do you mean, no?”
“I’m…” How did girls in this position get out of this? I didn’t want to go upstairs with him. In fact, I didn’t want to be touched by him or even be in his vicinity, but I couldn’t see a way of getting out of it without causing a scene.
Damn it, if I’d had any kind of normal upbringing, I would have been prepared for this. Instead of going to my first date at the age of nineteen, completely ignorant.
I was blaming my brother, my brother, and Matteo. If they hadn’t been so protective, I would have known how to handle this.
“We don’t…” his lips tried to find mine, and I turned my head away, “have to do anything.” Again, he tried to kiss me, and this time, I used all of my weight to push myself out of his arms.
I didn’t want my first kiss to be with him and his beer-scented breath.
“I would like to go home.”
I was standing there barely a foot away from him, and he reached out and grabbed my hair. Tangling the curls in his hand, he dragged me back toward him.
“You?” His voice dripped with sarcasm. “You would like to go home? Well, I would like you to come upstairs with me and—"
I moved on instinct, pulling my arm back and slapping his face so hard that his head rocked back.
“Fucking bitch.”
He slapped me back. The slap took me completely by surprise. My hand pressed against my cheek, and I stared at him with tears in my eyes, making my vision blurry.
Had he seriously just slapped me? Sure, I had done it first, but what the hell?
No wonder no one wanted me to date if this was what it was like.
Spinning on my heel so fast I twisted my ankle, I ran, my pink heels crunching over the red plastic cups that were all over the carpet.
“Sophie!” My date’s voice rang out behind me, closer than I wanted him to be. I picked up my pace, weaving in and out of the people inthe living room who were too busy dancing to pay any attention to a crying girl.
Yanking my phone into my hand, I had a split second to think about who to call, but my fingers were already hitting his name before I’d actually thought about it.
I couldn’t call my brother. He would come in all guns blazing, literally. So that left only one person.
