Freshly returned from her third year of veterinary school, Rose was in her hometown partying. Well, if sitting at the one bar in town with your only friend from high school could be called partying, anyway.

“Seriously?” Leslie said, putting down her beer. “Look around. Most of the people in this bar, hell in this town, have gotten less attractive in the last four years.”

Rose looked around the bar. It wasn’t untrue, sadly. A lot of the jocks she’d had crushes on in school had grown fat, or lost their hair. Or their glaring personality issues, once ignorable in a boys-will-be-boys sort of way, were hard to overlook now.

Sadly, the girls had only fared a little better.

“It’s just because we both got out of here, got to see a little more of the world,” Rose said with a shrug.

Leslie was a sleek blonde stewardess, with killer curves that hadn’t been present in high school. Whether the years had been kind to her or a plastic surgeon had fixed her up, Leslie was definitely defying the trend.

“Yeah… I guess that’s part of it,” Leslie shrugged, knocking back her cocktail. “Now there’s an exception for you… Jared Chalke. He's hot.”

Leslie stood up.

“What are you going to do?” Rose asked.

“I’m going to order us some flaming tequila shots… and then I’m going to ask Jared to dance. Or Robert Sims, he’s looking pretty good…”

Two hours and… somewhere more than six drinks later, Rose was ready to call it a night. She’d grown tired of watching Leslie make out with Robert at the bar.

She wanted to go home.

She pushed to her feet, noting the distinct wobble as she stood. She frowned. That wasn’t good.

“Leslie,” she said. “I want to go home.”

Leslie came up for air.

“No worries. Just take a cab,” she slurred. Leslie'd had two more shots than she had, and was in no state to go anywhere.

“Dude, we’re in Sarepta, not New Orleans. There are no cabs here.”

“I’ll take you,” Jared offered.

Rose looked at him. He was reasonably sober. It was probably about the best offer she was going to get.

She turned back to Leslie, only to see her friend had submerged once more. She looked at Jared again.

What could it hurt? she thought.

“All right, let’s go,” she said to Jared.

Jared smirked at her. She shivered under his gaze, and not in a nice way.

Rose got up and headed to the parking lot. He hit the remote access to a super fancy souped-up Chevy, red as a cheap manicure.

She rushed over to let herself into the truck, eyeing his smirk the whole way. There was something about his expression that she didn’t like, but she just got in the truck and did her best to shut up.

He climbed in the driver’s seat and started the engine. Only then did she realize that he was a smoker. The bar had been full of smoke, but she couldn’t remember him lighting up in the bar.

He lit a cigarette, looked at his watch.

“You staying with your ma?” he asked. She got the feeling that if she said no, he was going to try to come inside.

“Yes,” she said, looking out the window.

He pulled out of the parking lot, going the right direction. Rolled down the window, let some of the smoke out.

Relax, she told herself.

He put his cigarette in the ashtray. The smoke made her cough. He laughed at her, like she was feeble or something for not liking the smoke.

“You know, it’s a pity you were so quiet in high school.” He threw his arm over the bench seat between them, almost touching her. “I bet you were real kinky, huh?”

Rose looked at him, something inside her going cold.

“No,” she said, scowling. He continued as if she had never spoken.

“Or were you a prude? I could see it. Still kinda are one, huh?”

His hand moved from the back of the seat down to the hem of her denim skirt, tugging roughly.

“Don’t,” she said, not liking how shaky her voice came out.

He smiled, moved his hand back to the top of the seat. He didn’t say anything for a while, but then he started touching her shoulder, her arm.

“Please stop,” she said after a minute, squirming away.

“Please stop,” he mimicked. “Why don’t you quit being such a bitch?”

“Just pull over, let me get out,” she said.

“Shut. Up.” He locked her door, then took a right turn when he should’ve kept straight.

She couldn’t even look at him, so she just looked at her own image reflected back in the window. She realized she was crying, touched her tears with a fingertip.Abruptly he stopped the truck. She went for the lock, but he hit it again. Then his hands were on her, up her skirt.

“No!” she said, but he laughed at her.

“You think you can say no to me?” he said, pulling her panties down. “No one says no to me.”

He ripped her panties off.

“Please—” she begged.