Hayes is off somewhere ignoring me, probably with Amber, and something in me snaps. I deserve this. Someone who wants me. If nothing else, Hayes will hear about it. Maybe it’ll make him jealous.
Dylan and I end up horizontal in the grass, his tongue darting sloppily in and out of my mouth. His rough lips on mine aren’t exactly what dreams are made of, but it isn’t terrible, either.
I feel light.
Unburdened.
At least… I think I do.
Then he shifts, his body pressing into mine. Arms touching arms, legs tangling. I don’t feel any of the light-your-body-on-fire electricity I do whenever I’m with Hayes, but I’m not surprised. No other guy has ever made me feel that way. Maybe no guy ever will.
“Wanna go upstairs?” Dylan slurs against my mouth, his finger trailing across my neckline. “It’s more… private.”
I hesitate. The sky tilts, stars swirling again.
“Uh, no thanks.”
“Ohhh. I get it.” His grin shifts, something sleazy creeping in as his hand tugs at the hem of my dress. “You’re one of those girls who likes to do it out in the open. I can work with that.”
I swat his hand away.
“No. Stop.”
“What’s wrong? Aren’t you having fun?”
Before I can answer, his mouth crushes against mine again. Hard. I try to stay still, hoping he’ll stop. That he’ll get bored and pass out. That I can just wait it out.
But then his hands are everywhere. Rough, greedy. He reaches for the edge of my dress again, and I shove at his chest, nausea clawing at my throat.
“I said no!” I try to sit up. “I… I think I drank too much. I need to go home.”
He grabs my wrist, his nails digging into my skin. “Don’t be a tease, babe,” he says. “We’re just getting started.”
“No. I want to go,” I mumble, fumbling through the grass for my phone.
Shit.
Where the hell is my goddamn phone?
His lips are on my neck now, wet and urgent. “You’re so sexy. I just wanna?—”
“Dylan, stop!”
I try to push him away again, but he yanks my arms behind me, pinning them down.
“Quit fighting me. Just relax,” he says. “You’ll like it.”
Pain flares in my wrists.
“Dylan—ow! You’re hurting me!”
“Shut up already,” he spits, pressing down harder. His mouth crashes into my neck, hot and suffocating, and terror blooms in my chest. I can’t move. I can’t get free. He’s got me trapped.
“GET OFF ME!”
And then suddenly, he’sgone—ripped away like a rag doll.
I whip around, breathless.
