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“Go!” I wave her away before we’re both in over our heads.
“I’m not leaving you!”
I almost make it to my feet before large hands grip my waist, lifting me from the ground. “Get help!”
Nicole hesitates for half a second before taking off running again.
“What do we have here?” The stranger presses his front against my back and locks his arms around my middle.
Thick fingers glide over the exposed skin where my shirt gapes open in the front, and I squirm against him, combing through my memories for anything useful from the self-defense class Mom and I took last summer.
“Let me go!”
He laughs, and his sour breath makes me gag. He reeks of rubbing alcohol, charred plastic, and piss.
“Feisty,” his friend snarls from somewhere behind us.
Instinct kicks in, and I stomp my attacker’s foot with my heel.
Yelping in pain, he loosens his grip enough for me to elbow him in the ribs and break free. His fingers cling to my blouse as I bolt for the building, and the delicate fabric tears, exposing me to the cool night air.
“Jimmy!” my assailant yells. “Get her!”
The second guy grabs a fistful of my hair as I reach the door. I don’t even get my fingers around the handle when it flies open, and Nicole yanks me inside, leaving my attackers—and several strands of copper hair—behind in the parking lot.
“Kennedy!” She wraps her trembling arms around me, and we huddle together under the bug zapper lights.
Daryl rushes past us with a dinged-up baseball bat. “You girls stay inside. I’ll be right back.”
“I don’t wanna bowl anymore.” My voice shakes as I choke back tears.
“Me, either.” Nicole sniffles.
Daryl comes back several minutes later with a few more dents in his bat and a cut over his left eye.
“Those boys won’t be bothering you anymore,” he drawls.
“Thank you,” Nicole and I chime together.
“Don’t mention it. You still wanna . . . ?” He nods toward the empty lanes.
“No!” we shout in unison.
I don’t think I’ll ever bowl again.
Nicole and I cling to each other as Jeremy comes striding through the door wearing a big goofy grin as if it’s any other Saturday night. But when his gaze lands on us, huddled together in the same plastic chair, his eyes go wide.
“Nicole! Baby, you okay?”
“Jeremy!” Nicole screams, jumping from our seat into his arms. “Where were you? It was horrible. We could’ve been raped!”
“Kennedy?”
While Nicole and Jeremy lock lips less than two feet away, I follow Jordan’s voice, turning toward him as he charges through the bowling alley like a dark knight. Relief sweeps through me, and I release a shuddering breath. I don’t ask where the hell he’s been for the past hour. At this moment, I don’t even care. He’s here now.
Jordan eyes my ripped shirt, and his throat constricts as he swallows. “Did . . . are you . . . ?”
“I’m okay. I got away before they could . . .” Blinking back tears, I attempt to cover my exposed skin. Unfortunately, it’s a losing battle. The shirt wasn’t substantial before a would-be rapist shredded it from my body, and the flimsy red bra barely covers anything.
