Page 2 of Off the Rails

I narrowed my eyes at the childish joke. “So which is it?”

“What?” He swayed, trying to focus his gaze on me.

“You want women to close their legs, or you want to get your dick wet? Can’t have it both ways.”

“Well since you’re offering…”

“You fucking wish,” I snorted, cool root beer easing my tightening throat. “You can’t afford me. Plus, two inches and five minutes isn’t worth the cost of the abortion.”

That word chilled the conversation like a bucket of ice water. I hadn’t just bruised their egos — I’d laughed in the face of their flimsy morals. I’d reminded them that I existed outside of their bubble of respectability and shown them exactly how little control they really had over me.

And now, the look in their eyes wasn't the flippant indifference reserved for educating some silly lady. It was the chilly rage of men with something to prove.

The one in the wife beater took a long drag of the blunt, blowing the smoke in my direction as his eyes raked over my bare legs. “Where are you staying tonight?”

“With a friend,” I lied, tossing my empty bottle toward the edge of the clearing before turning away from them. “Hope you and your hand have a good night.”

As I walked away, a roar of jeers and laughter swept over their group, buying me enough time to walk away from the interaction. But I wasn’t stupid enough to think my insolence would be easily forgotten.

I’ve gotta tread carefully. And I’ve gotta find a better plan than couchsurfing.

2

TESS

Fucking animals.

As the moon rose higher, the decorum of this party slipped farther and farther down the drain. Not that there was much to begin with.

Crossing my arms, I wandered by the bonfire that roared at the center of the clearing. Along with the random sticks and logs they’d chucked in, the classy party-goers were using the fire as their personal burn pit. Stacks of cardboard and old clothes curled into blackened scraps as they lit up inside.

I rolled my eyes, knowing that some horrible toxin was probably being released into the atmosphere because these nitwits were too plastered to give a fuck.

Not that they would care if they were sober.

Most of them probably thought climate change was a hoax made up to take their diesel trucks away.

I was the only sober person at this party. And I needed to be. If I had any hope of finding a place to sleep tonight, I needed to be sharp. Sharp enough to tell the losers from the monsters. Maybe if I was diligent, I might find a guy who wouldn’t try anything.

Scanning the crowd, my shoulders dropped. The prospects were slim. I’d been surfing couches for nearly five years now, and I’d worn through most of my options. Sometimes, when my coworkers were feeling generous, they’d let me sleep on their sofas.

But right now, I was out of comfortable options.

At the edge of the party, a group of guys played beer pong and flip cup. None of them seemed particularly good at it, but losing was an excuse to chug back their Natty Lights.

Among them, I spotted the group of assholes from earlier. From the volume of their cheering, I’d bet they’d be at this for a while longer.

Which meant now was as good a time as any to sneak in a piss.

Making sure no one was watching me, I headed to the opposite edge of the clearing. I was careful to look over my shoulder as I stepped out of the fire’s light and into the shadowy forest. The flames flickered a gentle, fading light across the trees, but the deeper I went, the darker the woods grew.

I walked with my arms crossed, peering carefully around me. A movement in the distance made me jump: a rustle of brush, a long shadow.

But when nothing happened, I sighed.

It’s nothing. Shadows from the bonfire. Just go piss.

I walked until it was quiet. Once the noise of the party gave way to crickets and owls, I leaned against a tree and reached for the button on my distressed jean shorts. Pulling them down to my knees, I squatted against the rough bark.