His hands slip beneath my panties and I try to turn around and pull away. But he pushes against me hard, and my stomach slams into the sink, nearly taking my breath. “Stop!” I struggle and try to kick out, but I’m all skin and bone and he’s all brawn and hunger.
Tears fall down my cheeks as I try and scream, but the thumping music bleeds into the bathroom, drowning out my pleas.
What do I do? What the fuck do I do?!
Maybe I should just take it. Get it over with. Act like I want it. Convince my body that it’s another pursuit. Make it okay. Make myself believe it’s some fantasy.
My tears dry up and I try to fight one last time only to be slammed against the basin. I cough hoarsely.
Time to pretend, Lily. Make believe. It’s what you’re good at.
Just as I close my eyes, the door crashes open.
“Get the fuck off her!” Screaming. Terrible screaming. And the pressure behind me leaves. I’m numb, but I subconsciously pull up my jeans, covering myself like this is any other night.
I look to my left, and Ryke grips the guy by the arms, fighting against his drunken, hostile movements. The guy swings. Ryke ducks, and then slams him into a stall. The guy falls hard into a toilet bowl, his forehead hitting the porcelain lip, and his legs splay out the door.
Ryke clenches him by the shirt, lifting him up. “What the fuck is wrong with you?!” he screams. But I feel like that question should be directed at me.
Connor steps in front of my transfixed gaze, but I stare past his eyes.
“Where’s Lo?” My voice is small and not my own.
“He’s still at the bar,” Connor says softly. “Lily.” He waves a hand in my face. “Lily, look at me.”
I do, but I don’t. I’ve never changed my mind after I invited someone to have sex with me. I’ve never been hurt by my addiction. Not like this.
Ryke kicks the guy in the groin and then bangs the stall door on him.
This is all wrong. Lo should be here, not Connor and Ryke.
“I want to go home,” I murmur.
Ryke puts a hand on my shoulder and steers me out of the bathroom and away from my attacker—or at least a guy whodoesn’t understand the wordno. A frown weighs down his face. “I need to go find Lo. Connor will you…”
“I’ve got her.”
Ryke’s hand leaves me only to be replaced by Connor. He guides me, and I float away from the bar, outside, and into the backseat of Connor’s limo. Connor finds a water bottle in the cooler and places it in my palm.
“Why did you come into the bathroom?” I ask. I should have sealed my own fate once I stormed off.
“You were acting strange all night, Lily. I was worried, so I told Ryke we should check on you.”
The car door opens, and Ryke enters with a wobbling Lo. He staggers but manages to duck underneath the frame before hitting his head. He collapses onto the seat across from me, and immediately shuts his heavy eyes, drowning in a sea of darkness, silent and void of turbulent thoughts.
Ryke climbs in beside him, shutting the door and giving Connor’s driver the order to go. I envy Lo so much right now for his peaceful, temperate sleep, the kind that shields the world’s dissonance, if only for one night.
Ryke checks his pulse and then nods to me. “Are you okay?” A welt grows on his cheekbone like the guy elbowed him.
I blink away tears. “I asked for it.”
Ryke’s face contorts, like I physically impaled him. “What? Why would you fucking say that?”
Connor covers his eyes with his hand so I can’t see his reaction. If Ryke looks this wounded over something bad happening to me, I’m sure it’s not good.
“I let him touch me,” I say. “…but then…then I changed my mind. I think it was too late by then.” My hands shake. I wish Lo could hold them. My knees bounce. I wish he was awake. I wish I didn’t need him this much, but I love him. I sniff as tears spill. “It’s my fault. I gave him the wrong impression.”
Ryke gapes. “No means no. I don’t care when you fucking say it, Lily. Once it’s out there, it’s out there. Any halfway decent guy would have backed off.”
