"I barely know you." I force a laugh, planting my feet. "Let's just stay out here."
He shrugs, grinning. "Whatever you want, beautiful."
We're tucked behind the staircase now, hidden from the pool table crowd. Perfect. The phone's right there—the shape of the rectangle clearly evident in the back pocket of his jeans.
My tote dangles from my elbow. I tighten my grip on the strap.
Dylan steps closer. I scan his face quickly—clean-shaven, no weird spots around his mouth. Could be worse. Could be way worse. But the thought of kissing him makes my stomach turn violently. I hope I don't end up with mono, or worse.
For Claudia. For Colleen.
He backs me against the wall, hands landing on either side of my head. His breath smells like beer and cigarettes.
"Ready?" He leans in.
He kisses me first, slowly, softly, just a press of the lips. I close my eyes, forcing myself deeper than his tentative press. His tongue slides against mine, beer-bitter, and I swallow back nausea. He groans, pressing closer, and I know I need to move fast.
My hand trails down his chest, over his stomach, lower. He tenses when I cup his dick through his jeans, his breath hitching sharply.
"You're so hot," I whisper against his mouth. "I can't wait..."
Distraction. It’s all about distraction. The more turned on and distracted he is, the better my chances of pulling this off.
My other hand slips to his back pocket. Fingertips graze the phone's hard edge. I ease it upward, inch by careful inch, while squeezing his erection firmly, keeping him distracted.
The phone slides free.
I don't let go of him as I drop the phone straight into my tote in one fluid motion, heart exploding in my chest.
Dylan's getting rougher now, hands grabbing at my hips, mouth hot and insistent. I shove him back, breathless.
"Wait—I need to freshen up." I flash what I hope passes for a coy smile. "Meet me in the bedroom?"
His grin stretches wide. "So you've changed your mind?" he teases. "You know me well enough, now?"
I smile. "I guess so."
"You're just hurting for it, aren't you?" he whispers in my ear, and I really want to punch him. "What's your name anyway?”
Geez, he really thinks I'm about to sleep with him, and we don't even know each other's names yet. What kind of slut does he think I am? Is this how young kids are these days? I'm truly appalled. "Sophia."
He smiles and disappears through the door without looking back.
I force myself to walk normally through the basement, past the pool table, up the stairs. Every muscle screamsrun.
The second I hit the main floor, I bolt.
I'm about three away, engine roaring, yellow Mini Cooper weaving through darkened streets.
Text Julian. You promised.
Can't. Not yet. Not until I'm safe.
Every car behind me feels like a threat. Every flash of headlights sends my pulse spiking higher. What if Dylan realizes? What if he comes after me?
I take a corner too fast, tires squealing.
Julian's brownstone apartment building finally appears like salvation. I screech into a spot out front, kill the engine, grab my tote. The phone—Dylan's phone.
