CHAPTER TWO
ASHLEY
“Where’s the bathroom?”
Whitney chewed on her straw and nodded left. “What about that guy over there?”
I stared at her. “I am not going to pee on that guy.”
“Gross! God, Ashley, I meant for me. Get it together.” Whitney set her drink down and smoothed her hair. “Do I look okay? He’s totally looking at me. This is about to be a thing. Look at him and tell me if this is a mistake, because I think I had too many Chocolate Cake shots.”
“You only had two. And you look fine. Go. Find me a bathroom while you’re at it.”
Whitney wasn’t even listening, already half way through the thinning bar crowd with a bounce in her step. We were here to drink off her ex-boyfriend, but we’d also done that four nights running and I was running out of steam. And bladder space.
I nudged my drink closer to the bartender and leaned forward to catch his attention. “Where can I find the restrooms?”
He didn’t look up from closing out a ticket on the computer and pointed in the opposite direction of where I’d been looking. Of course. I got up, thought better of it, and grabbed my drink. Renee had been roofied last week, despite all of us thinking our little college town was a haven absent from the usual scandals. It was more conservative than I’d like, but saying no to a full ride and being able to walk everywhere was hard to turn down.
It just so happened assholes were everywhere. A lesson I should have been well versed in by now. My mother always did say I was as difficult as a bog on Sunday. Truthfully, I had no idea what the hell she meant by that, but it usually followed some diatribe about my attitude or behavior or friends, or or or. Never mind how devastatingly ironic that was, but stories for another drunk cryfest.
They were happening less these days, which was nice.
Another perk of this “small” college town was the lack of bathroom attendants. I don’t want to have someone stare at me while I hunt down a clean stall to pee in, nor someone to hand me a paper towel that’s already sitting on the counter, for a dollar tip. I can absolutely appreciate someone doing what they must for money and to support their families, but the bathroom is private. Don’t stare at me while I pee, okay?
I would make a terrible dude. Open stalls? No thank you.
In and out without incident, I found the bar more crowded than when I left it. One of the local frats showed up, stealing the rest of the tables and filling up the room with their obnoxious faces and voices and excessive use of cologne. They had to be Sigmas.
“Hey hot stuff!” One of them sidled up to me and curled an arm around my waist. “What’s fine looking girl like you doing all alone in a bar tonight?” He turned to wink at his buddies nearby and I caught a glimpse of the stitching on his backwards ball cap.
When it walks, talks, and acts like a moron, it must be a Sigma.
“Not alone. Just walking back from the restrooms. That are literally right behind us.” I stepped away from him, but he tightened his grip. My entire body immediately tensed. “Let me go, please.”
“Why run off so soon, pretty lady? We just met. We need time to get to know each other.” He grinned toothily and winked at me. His friends behind him whooped.
I have never in my life hated Whitney… until this moment. A conversation from earlier in the evening zipped through my mind:
Me: Let’s not go there, that’s where all the asshats go.
Her: Let’s go there, because I want to sleep with an asshat to get Brandon back. Real friends will come with me.
Me: No.
Her: Remember that deep dark secret of yours I’m keeping?
Me: Fucking fine, I hate you, let’s go.
Maybe I have hated her before.
“Why don’t you come join me and my friends? We’ll buy you a few drinks, hang out, it’ll be fun.” He hovered just above my ear and murmured, “Maybe we can get a little frisky under the table.”
I tried to steady myself and fight through the very tiny alcohol haze I had going. I hadn't had many of these situations pop up, for a variety of reasons, but I didn't want to become... another statistic. That was all I had running through my head: Can't be a victim. Can’t be a victim.
"No thanks. I'll be finding my friend now."
"Bring her, too!" The guy tightened his grip and spun me towards the table of other asshats. "Bring all your friends! There's a lot of us here tonight."
"I said no." I dug in my heels and tried to pry myself away. I spent hours in the gym every week, running and lifting. I always figured I could fight my way out of any situation. Unfortunately, Sigma Cap was easily twice my weight and strong as hell. "I'll be going now."
"So serious." He mocked me and continued dragging me over. "We'll loosen you up, won't—“
I threw my drink in his face. It caught him off guard enough to ease his grip and I immediately jumped back and into a table. His friends roared with laughter but he was tinged bright pink with fury. His brows knitted together and his thick jaw set, despite the forced laughter in his voice.
"It's okay. I like 'em a little frisky."
He advanced and I scrambled backwards, but ran out of room. I collided with something hard, another body that grabbed me. I let out a yelp of surprise and tried to scream, but large hands moved me aside and a black t-shirt towered before me.
"I think she told you no, son." A deep voice rumbled out.
I slumped against the wall in relief but was too terrified to move from that spot. His friends were everywhere and I doubted one person could keep them all at bay.
"I don't think it's any of your fucking business, bro. And I'm not your son."
"Only children don't understand the word no. You and your friends need to get the fuck out of here."
The door was on the other side of this massive human shield and a sea of frat boys. Fingers of a panic attack wrapped themselves around my throat and heart, making the room go a little fuzzy. Their words blurred together, nothing more than a cacophony of angry sounds and threats. Two more large black shirts materialized before me, more noise, the sound of breaking wood, and then a face was right in mine.
"Are you okay?"
I managed to shake my head while gasping for air. I was hoisted up onto his shoulder and hauled outside. Before the stress of who was taking me where really set in, I was set upright under a bright light outside. My captor/savior rested a hand on my shoulder.
"I'm not going to hurt you. Drink this."
Water was shoved into my hands and I sipped it. The guy was huge: tall, broad, thick. His eyes were black holes in the fluorescent lighting. A white towel dangled from a back pocket. I slumped against the filthy brick wall behind me. A bartender. He was the bartender, not a frat boy hauling me off.
"Can I get you something?"
I fumbled around in my pockets for my pack of cigarettes. They were in my back pocket, but my lighter was missing. "Lighter."
"That shit's terrible for you."
I froze and looked back up at the man before me. The lighting was different from a few nights ago, but if I squinted, I could almost see the distraught guy punching his truck under a flickering street light.
A shaky smile broke out over my face, no doubt making me look more insane than I was already. A girl nearby offered her lighter, so I struck up my cigarette and took three long drags. Once my heart no longer felt like it was trying flee my chest, I looked up at him.
"So is falling out of a window."
His gaze snapped down to mine in utter confusion. It was rough, raking over me while he tried to connect the pieces. I looked away. He let out a laugh.
"I guess we've now seen each other at our worst, huh?"
His smile was bitter but still caused my chest to tighten. That night, Whitney was too drunk to pay attention, but while I had been feeding her tortillas, I watched him from across the room. Brooding, painfully handsome, rough around the edges. He was everything I'd been warned away from, which obviously made him that much more enticing.
As much as I liked to think I had my shit together, sometimes I was very, very wrong. He was the ultimate case-in-point.
He cleared his throat and I jumped at the noise. His cheeky grin told me I'd been staring. Great.
"Thank you for... you know, stepping in."
"It's my job." He smiled again, briefly, and tipped his head. "I gotta go back to work. I'll find your friend."
"Thanks. Again." I said as awkwardly as humanly possible. He paused for just a moment, like he was mulling over something to say, but offered a tiny smile instead and walked back inside.