“Oh, just because,” I say. “I was warm.”
“Hmm, sounds like a great excuse,” he says, taking another drag of his cigarette.
The other one lights one up too, and I can smell the pot. I hide my grimace behind my blond hair so they don’t notice my disgust.
“So you came out of the woods, bare feet, wearing only a bathrobe, and you’re telling me you did this by choice? Nah, I don’t think so.”
The one in the passenger seat laughs. “Sounds to me like she was running away from something … or someone.”
Panic wells up inside me. “I’m fine, thank you. I was just camping, and I threw out all my clothes because they had holes. That’s it. I’m looking to buy new ones, that’s why I want to go to Zara,” I lie. “But if you don’t want to take me there, you can just drop me off again, and I’ll find someone else to take me.”
I hope my brazen response keeps them in check.
One of them suddenly places a hand on my leg. “Don’tworry, girl. We’ll take you there.”
The other one bumps into me from the side. “Yeah, don’t stress out. You want some of this?”
He tries to offer his marijuana, but I decline.
“I need to keep a level head so I know what I’m buying.”
He nods suspiciously, as if he doesn’t believe my story, and I don’t blame him. It was haphazardly put together at the last second. What else was I supposed to say? That I just ran away from a Mafia lord? They wouldn’t believe me if I told them the truth.
I shake my head and focus on the view outside the window, trying to take my mind off things and this awful stench. But the longer I stay here, the more awkward it feels, especially when they can’t stop bumping into me, rubbing my thighs with theirs, their fingers grazing past my bathrobe. And the longer I sit here between them, the more freaked out I get.
“Have you ever taken a road trip before with a bunch of dudes?” the one to my left asks. “Because you’re so tense, girl.”
“Yeah, loosen up,” the one on the right says. “If you won’t take a drag, at least take a drink. Here.” He shoves a beer into my face.
I smile and take a quick swig. “Thanks.”
I only did it to keep them from hounding me.
But then one of them leans in too close, his lips nearly on my neck, and I push him away. “What are you doing?”
“Oh, come on, girl, can’t we have a little bit of fun? You’re in our car after all.”
“No, what do you mean?” Another one beside me also starts groping my leg, and I shove him away. “Ew, get off me.”
“Is that any way to thank the guys who took you into their car and gave you a ride?” the one in the passenger seat says.
“You haven’t given me a ride to anything,” I say in defiance. “We’re not even in the city yet.”
When the dude to my left tries to kiss me again, I push him back into his seat.
“Stop touching me.”
One of them sticks his finger into my bathrobe, and I completely freak out.
“Hey!” I shout, and I drag my robe back together, then slap him in the face. “I said don’t touch me!”
“She slapped me,” the guy says, rubbing his cheek.
None of them looks amused.
“Let me out,” I bark. “Now.”
Instead, the driver actually locks the car doors, sealing me inside.
