Victor groans. “I have a better idea. Let’s dance.”
And he presses his body to mine. I mold against him perfectly.
“Definitely a better idea.”
A slow song, which I don’t recognize, is playing at the moment. Although we’re not technically on the so-called dance floor, Victor puts his warm hands on my hips. I automatically wrap mine around his neck. I almost protest when he takes a step away from me, leaving some distance between our bodies—a distance I don’t approve of, but I’m sure Alek would. Victor lowers his head to mine and his minty breath falls on my face.
“I wish we were dancing all alone.”
“I wish we were naked,” I say.
Victor’s body shakes with laughter. The song ends and another one, faster, starts. I expect Victor to separate himself from me so that we can dance to it, but he only continues to hold me tight. And I go with it because that’s all I need now. The song changes again and my bladder is ready to explode.
I lift onto my tiptoes. “I’m gonna be right back. Ladies’ room.”
Luckily for us, I’ve already taken a step back from Victor when Alek appears behind him, tapping him on his shoulder.
“Help me find Abi. She was talking to a bunch of girls.”
Victor turns back to me. “I’ll see you here in a few minutes. Are you okay to find the bathroom? Do you want me to go with you?”
I roll my eyes. “I’ll wait for you here.”
We all split up. I climb the stairwell in hopes the upstairs bathroom is cleaner. Opening doors, I finally get the right one. Suddenly I’m pushed hard from behind and my body flies to the sink, unable to stop the motion. My stomach hits the cold stone. The door lock clicks. Goose bumps rise on my arms.
I turn around. My worst nightmare stands before me.
Charlie marches toward me and all my blood drains to my feet. My legs are heavy, frozen, every muscle refusing to work. I’m as still as a statue.
“You didn’t listen, Firefly. You broke the rules,” he says with authority.
I try taking a breath, but no air gets in my lungs. I’m getting dizzy.
“There’re consequences.”
He grabs my shoulders and squeezes them so hard that the pain radiates down to my fingernails. His body blocks the exit. I’m trapped.
“Let me go. You’re hurting me.” The words come out through my clenched jaw while I’m trying to push the pain in my shoulders away.
This is not happening.
All of a sudden he releases me and hugs me. The nausea climbs to my throat. I’m going to be sick.
“Why are you doing this to me? Don’t you care about me?” He lets go and his hands grab my cheeks. He’s staring at my face, searching for answers.
A cold shiver runs down my spine. The way Charlie has my head in his hands reminds me of action movies where someone gets killed by a quick twist of their neck.
Has he been drinking? His eyes are alert and he’s not slurring his speech.
“I know you care about me, but your friends are trying to brainwash you against me.”
“What?” My pulse quickens.
Charlie drops his hands and crosses them on his chest.Whoa. Crazy and sober is a dangerous combination.
“You slut. Why are you pretending?”
I gulp. He must be suffering from multiple personality disorder—or is he a sociopath, or psychopath? I can barely keep up with him.
