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I nod, letting him steer me over to one of the more private booths. It feels different here, the shadows and low lighting swallowing us as he slips in beside me.
“You are so beautiful,” he rasps, stroking a hand along my neck, pushing my hair off my face, clearly feeling bolder now that we’re secreted away.
“Oh, to be young again.” Laughter crinkles his eyes. “You know I used to be quite the catch in college.”
“I’m sure you were.” I sip my cocktail, forcing myself to stay in the moment. To play the game.
Before, back in Brewton, it had been second nature. Vaughn had manipulated me and moulded me into the perfect trap. And part of me—the part desperate to be loved—craved his approval, his satisfaction.
I knew it was wrong, the things he made me do. But I told myself that it was a way to show him I was loyal and that I loved him.
Vaughn didn’t love me though, he exploited me. He used me. And then he hung me out to dry.
In some ways, I guess he did me a favour leaving me to take the fall that night everything went to shit. Because if he hadn’t, I would have had no bargaining chip with the police and things could have ended very definitely for me.
“Had all the girls clamouring to date me.” Stanley goes on. “I played for the Saints rugby team. I was one of their best players.”
“Amazing.” I flash him a bright smile, draining the rest of my drink.
“Another?” he asks.
“I should probably switch to water.”
“How about I order you another cocktail and a water?”
“Okay.”
He flags the waiter down and gives him our order.
“Would you like any to eat?” the waiter asks.
“Not for me, thank you.”
“Just the drinks please,” Stanley says.
“I might get room service later,” I add.
“Room service?”
“Oh, I’m staying here for the night.”
“You are?” His eyes widen.
“Once I realised I’d been stood up, I booked myself a room for the night. I figured I could get room service and treat myself.”
“I see. Well, at least you have company now.”
“I do.” I smile.
Something simmers in his eyes. A subtle hunger. It’s the same way he’d looked at me at the party. But I was nothing more than a fleeting notion then.
Now, I’m a possibility.
A dream that might come true.
God, men are such fickle creatures.
Not all men. But the ones I’ve had the pleasure of knowing all my life. Men so eager and willing to defile young girls. To bury their sense of right and wrong for a chance to fuck a teenager.
