Jake spins us around so that he has the advantage on me. He shoves my shoulder, slamming me against the wall. My head hits the laminate paneling with a soft thud. He leans down to kiss me and I quickly turn my face so that his lips hit my cheek. He grabs my chin and yanks my face towards him, his lips slamming against mine in a horrible attempt to kiss me.
I struggle to get away from him. No one notices, or chooses to look at us, in the dark corner of the bar.
“Jake, stop,” I say as I try to wrestle him off of me. It’s to no avail, he’s stronger than I am.
The hand that used to hold my wrist now sits on my hip, at the edge of my jeans. I feel him work his fingers under the fabric of my shirt and goosebumps spread across my skin as his fingertips skim over the skin there. His touch makes me want to vomit. I feel dirty and violated.
His grimy hand slides up my ribs and then he is palming my breast, fighting with the cup of my bra. Anger ignites within me and the next thing I know, my palm is meeting his face.
His hand falls out of my shirt at the impact and he staggers backwards, looking as ifheis the one who should be appalled.
“What the hell was that?” I demand.
“Time for a show,” he says, rubbing his cheek. It’s turning rosy from my palm.
I start to shove past him as his fingertips ghost my wrist again. I yank it toward my body so he can’t grasp it and spin around, fire in my eyes, angry that he would dare try to touch me again.
“I told you,” he says, “my father can ruin anyone in this town.”
“Is that a threat?” I ask, narrowing my eyes.
Jake shrugs. “Make of it what you will.”
“Unlike you,” I say, snarling, “I don’t need my daddy to fight my battles for me. Go to hell, Jake.” I stomp my foot down, and it just so happens to be on top of his foot.
I turn on my heel and head toward the door, angrily shoving it open. Fuming, I barrel past the few men entering the bar and out into the parking lot.
My head is spinning and adrenaline is pulsing through my veins. I’m so angry that I can’t see straight. I start heading in the general direction of Beth’s house, tears welling in my eyes. I can’t believe that Jake thought I would be so easy. My mind is stuck in an endless cycle of degrading thoughts as I walk, so much so that I don’t notice the sound of a golf cart creeping up behind me. I turn around and my anger and anxiety dissipate when I see Graham behind the wheel.
“Thea!” he says, and I stop walking. He slows the golf cart down to a stop next to me as he adds, “What are you doing in this part of town?”
I wipe at my tear-streaked face and hiccup before I answer him. His face searches mine.
“Thea,” he repeats, his voice softer. “Who did this to you?”
“I had a date,” I say, in almost a whisper. I sniffle, snot running out of my nose. I quickly wipe it away with the back of my hand. “And it did not go well.”
Understatement of the year,I think to myself.
“I’m sorry.” He stays quiet for a few moments.
“Wait, what areyoudoing here?” I ask as my head clears a bit.
“My mom needed some things from the general store.” He pats the plastic bag sitting next to him on the seat. “Do you need a ride home?”
“I can walk, it’s fine.” I glance back in the direction of the bar, relieved that Jake didn’t come after me.
“I’m not letting you walk,” Graham says, “Hop in.” He scoots the plastic bag closer to his body and pats the seat before I step aboard.Once I’m settled, he takes off in the direction of Beth’s house. My hair blows in the wind as we ride along in silence. He keeps glancing at me as he drives to make sure I’m okay.
“You look pretty,” he says quietly.
“I don’t feel pretty,” I mutter as I play with the hem of my shirt, a loose thread suddenly becoming the most interesting thing I’ve ever seen.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
A beat passes before I blurt out, “It was Jake Osborne. He groped me.
I see Graham’s grip on the steering wheel tighten and swear I see his jaw twitch at the mention of Jake’s name.
