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Laughing, we separate and I go back inside the house in search of a bathroom. I put on a brave face while Jorden was watching, but as soon as I find a bathroom, I shut the door behind me, lock it, and draw in a huge, shuddering breath.
This is too much. It was a bad idea to come here. Back to a place like this, around people like this… I turned my back on this world. I never wanted to return.
As soon as I get out of here, I’m going to double down on that vow.
When I touch the back of my neck, my palm comes away soaked with clammy sweat.
“Midnight,” I swear to my reflection in the mirror. “Just a couple more hours, then the clock will strike midnight and you can say goodbye to these people forever.”
Midnight.
We’re almost there.
I rinse my sweaty neck and step out of the bathroom, ready to brave the rest of the party. Through the distant double doors, I catch a brief glimpse of Jorden in the crowd. But before I can even get a step in her direction, I feel an unexpected hand on my waist.
A voice accompanies it. “Hey there, gorgeous.”
I follow the sound of the slurred greeting to a rumpled man with a damp forehead. He’s swaying from side to side.
“Hi.” I give him a tight smile and retreat towards the wall.
“I came over because you look lonely.” His words are breathy, arriving on a cloud of alcohol fumes. “Thought I’d keep ya company.”
I wrinkle my nose. “‘Oh, that’s nice of you. I’m fine, though. But thanks!”
If he understands the implied goodbye, he doesn’t show it. He steps closer, his belly pressing against me. “Who are you with?”
“My boyfriend,” I lie reflexively. “He’s getting me a drink right now.”
He hesitates for a second and then cackles. “Bullshit.”
That throws me for a loop, mostly because he’s so certain. “I don’t—I mean—How would you even know?”
“Because you’re here to meethim. Just like the rest of them.” He says it with more of that same finality. Like he knows something I don’t.
I have lots of questions, but none I want to sit and discuss with this charming fellow. I try to edge past him. “I’m just going to—”
“He isn’t that great, you know.” He shifts with me, blocking my path. “Everyone is here for Ivan, but I’ll show you what a real man can do for you. There’s no line to get to me.”
“Gee, I wonder why,” I mutter to myself. To him, I say, “I have literally no idea what you are talking about. You probably don’t, either. You’re drunk. So if you could just let me go—”
Suddenly, his sweaty, meaty hand slaps my ass.
Distantly, I hear threads of my dress popping. But it’s like paying attention to a dripping faucet when your house is on fire. I have bigger fish to fry.
Anyone who’s ever worked in the food service industry knows that customers do jaw-dropping things. Married men leave their phone numbers on the receipt; friendly-looking grandpas pinch your ass; their wives hiss that you’re a slut beneath their breaths.
And anyone who’s ever beenstuckworking in the food service industry, even when they’re so sick of all those things, knows that there are two choices: you can take it all on the chin and keep your job—or you can live out the fantasy of every server ever and show the motherfuckers who crossed the line that they messed with the wrong person.
Today, I’m the wrong person.
And this is the motherfucker who crossed the line.
2
IVAN
I’m bored out of my fucking mind.
