I scoot subtly away. It’s barely an inch. He notices anyway.
His smile changes. It stays on his mouth, but it leaves his eyes.
“Don’t do that,” he says softly.
It’s the softness that scares me more than yelling would.
I glance toward my best friend. She’s still wrapped up in her guy, her cheeks flushed, her mouth close to his ear. She’s gone, even though she’s right there.
This is what I get for letting her talk me into it.
“Come on, Vi,” she’d said earlier, eyes bright, phone in her hand. “We never go out. Just once. It’s a new place. We’ll be together the whole time.”
Together, except when we got pulled into VIP and she forgot I existed.
The guy beside me takes my glass from my hand like it’s nothing. Like I won’t protest. He sets it on the table. Then he puts his hand on my thigh again, higher this time.
My breath catches.
I grab his wrist. Not hard. Just enough for him to feel the refusal.
“Please don’t,” I say.
His gaze flicks to my hand on him, then back to my face. He looks amused. Like I just said something cute.
“Why?” he asks. “You think you’re special?”
“No.”
“Then why?”
Because I don’t know you. Because you’re too close. Because my skin is crawling. Because I can feel my mother’s life in mybones, the bad choices, the nights she brought men home and told me to stay in my room, and the mornings after when the house smelled like stale beer and shame.
Because I learned early that men like this don’t ask. They take.
Because my brother, Derek, taught me how to keep my keys between my fingers and how to watch my drink and how to never accept a ride from someone I wouldn’t trust with my address.
Because I’m twenty-three and I’ve never been touched the way men in clubs assume they can touch you.
Because I’m still a virgin, and I always thought the first time would be something other than fear.
I swallow hard and force the words out anyway. “Because I said no.”
His hand tightens under mine. He doesn’t yank away. He just holds still, like he’s letting me exhaust myself.
Then he leans closer, mouth near my ear.
“You don’t get to say no to me,” he says. “Not if I’ve already chosen you.”
My blood turns to ice.
For a second, everything goes quiet in my head even though the music keeps pounding.
I let go of his wrist. My fingers go numb.
He smiles as if we’re sharing a secret.
I look down at my phone in my lap. My hands shake. I press my thighs together like that will keep me safe.
