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“Whoa!” Delilah wraps an arm around Skylar’s shoulders. “Easy now.” With measured steps, they head toward the door. “The car should be here in a few minutes.” Delilah glances over her shoulder, her eyes more sober than I feel. “You good?”
“Yeah.” I nod. “Probably leave in twenty.”
“See you at home,” she says, then disappears in the thickening crowd.
Dalton’s is always the place to be in Stone Bay, especially on Friday and Saturday nights. Though it’s busy once the sun sets, the real crowd doesn’t show until after ten. Between ten and two, Dalton’s is packed with townies and tourists alike and definitely hits max capacity.
I down the last of my water and return to the dance floor. Closing my eyes, I move to the music and get lost in the sea of bodies. As the current song fades out and the next starts, I open my eyes and feel momentarily unsteady. Heat blankets me as someone presses against my backside. Sweat slicks my skin and trails down my neck to my cleavage and shirt. My breaths come in short, shaky bursts.
Winding through the crowd, goose bumps erupt on my skin when I hit cooler air. The momentary reprieve alleviates some of the dizziness, but not all. I scan the pub in search of a familiar face, someone I trust. Half the town is here, but no one I know well enough to ask for help.
Slow and steady, I walk to the nearest abandoned table. Dragging out the stool, I slide onto the seat, rest my hands on the cool wood, and take a deep breath. As I pull my phone from my pocket, a man sits on the stool next to me.
“Your friends abandon you already?” His gravelly voice isn’t familiar as his words fuse together in an underwater bubble.
My face tightens, my brows and eyes and lips squashing together. “No,” I say as I look up at him.
Why does my head feel so heavy?
I study his somewhat blurry face. Roam over his messy, dirty blond hair. Stare into his dark eyes for a beat. Squint and search for familiar features to tell me who this man is, but come up empty.
“Who are you?” The question comes out in a garble.
He lays a hand on mine and chuckles. “Just a guy trying to enjoy a night out.”
I yank my hand back, but it barely moves. Every muscle in my body slows, grows heavier with each new breath. “What the hell?” I mutter.
“Come on.” The man stands and reaches for my elbow. “Let me get you a ride home. Looks like you’re done for the night.” His voice is softer, gentler, a lullaby to my ears.
Gripping the edge of the table, I slowly rise to my feet. “Okay.” I stow my phone in my pocket. “Thank you.”
The closer we get to the front door, the heavier my eyes feel, the more the room starts to spin. And when the damp bay air sweeps across my face as we step outside, I close my eyes and inhale deeply. Everything muddles together as I become weightless.
I try, and fail, to open my eyes. My legs dangle in the air, nausea crawling up my throat as we move much quicker. Metal creaks a moment before I’m seated and strapped in. I beg my mouth to open. Implore my voice to form words and ask what is happening.
But I don’t get the chance.
The scent of bacon grease and pancakes stirs me from sleep. I roll over and groan as pain radiates from every inch of my body.
“Never again,” I croak out, my voice scratchy and almost inaudible.
Cracking one eye open, I squint at the faint rays of sunlight slipping through the blinds.Ugh, I forgot to close the curtains. I pat the nightstand in search of my phone, locating it after a moment. Bringing it close to my face, I note it’s just after eleven and my phone is minutes from dying.
“What the hell?” I never sleep in this late. Ever. Let alone forget to charge my phone.
Throwing back the covers, I hiss as I sit up. I stare down at my body and narrow my eyes in confusion. Scan the cotton covering almost every inch of my skin.I don’t sleep fully clothed.No matter how much I drink, I never go to bed in full pajamas. I only have those for company.
I strip off the pants and gasp when my eyes hit the inside of my thighs.
What. The. Actual. Fuck?
Spreading my legs wider, I wince as pain radiates from my thighs. The source? Massive purple bruises and a plethora of small, surface-level cuts crusted in dry blood.
“Oh my god,” I whisper as my vision blurs. I reach out a tentative finger and graze the bruised skin. Inch by slow inch, I trail my finger toward one of the cuts, flinching when I reach the edge.
Grabbing the blanket at the foot of the bed, I wrap it around myself and close my eyes. I think over last night and try to remember how the hell this happened. Whatexactlyhappened.
Drinks. Lots of drinks. Too many drinks. The guys we brushed off. Dancing. Skylar and Delilah calling it a night. More dancing.
