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He got them off despite my confused attempts to stop him, and as his rough hand grabbed my naked hip to position me underneath him, the panic set in.
It couldn’t be happening, but it was.
My heart raced as his weight crushed me. If I didn’t get him off me and get out of that room, he was going to…
I fought him, and when I scratched his face, he was surprised enough that I managed to kick him off me and roll off the bed. I lunged for the door, ripped it open, and ran. My legs felt about as sturdy as two sticks of jelly as I fumbled with my purse, trying to get my phone out to call my mom just in case he came after me.
He didn’t.
Not that night, anyway.
I didn’t tell Mom or anyone else about what had happened. I felt so stupid, and I didn’t even know how to process it myself, honestly. He’d invited me to that party just to attack me?
I kept my distance from him after that.
He never stopped being aware of me, and he never quit picking on me in front of his friends, but after that brush with him alone, I made sure he never got me alone again. I even went to the trouble of going to the office and transferring out of the only class we had together that year. Then, junior year, I was very hands-on in ensuring the school faculty knew I didn’t want to be in any classes with him.
He never got me alone again until the end of summer when he broke into my house while my mom was out with his dad.
He chased me to my bedroom and trapped me inside. I sank to the floor with my back against the door, shaking with intensifying fear every time he slammed his hand against the wood and I felt the reverberations on the other side. I was terrified the door wouldn’t hold, terrified of what he would do to me if it gave way.
From the moment he walked through the door, I feared he was there to finish what he had started that night at the party, but this time he wasn’t silent, so I didn’t have to wonder about his intentions.
This time, he told me exactly what he wanted to do to me when he got into my bedroom, so I knew I was right to be afraid.
I called the cops. It was the only thing to do.
I hadn’t wanted things to escalate to that point, but he left me with little choice.
I was so angry and afraid by the time it was all over. I’d reached my limit making excuses for him and going out of my way to avoid him when I hadn’t done a damn thing wrong. If jail was the only way I could assure I was safe from him, then jail was where he needed to be.
But his father is Hayden Atwater, the best criminal defense attorney in Baymont, probably in the whole state of California.
He knows all the right people, and he assured me that even if I pressed charges, he would make sure his son got out of it with no more than a slap on the wrist.
Kids in this town have gotten away with far more, so I knew he wasn’t lying.
Hayden convinced me that it would be the most beneficial if Landon believed I chose not to press charges against him. He thought it might buy me a little good will. Certainly more than if I insisted on pressing charges and lost.
He also offered to pay off my mom’s house as a “thank you” gift, but that was before he decided to hell with it and just proposed to her.
He’s a bit impulsive, but I really like Hayden despite everything. I understand wanting to protect Landon even when he doesn’t deserve it. I’ve battled the same impulse, and I’m not even related to him.
I could have never foreseen my mom falling for his dad. It would be amazing if Hayden were literally anyone else in the world.
But, unfortunately, he is Landon’s father.
Landon is the landmine built beneath their relationship, and I have to spend the rest of the year standing on it so it doesn’t explode and destroy everything.
I’m not feeling great that we’re not even a week in and Landon has already had to go stay with his cousin for a couple of days. Earlier at dinner, Mom was quiet, and I could tell she wasn’t, either.
A whisper of a memory replays in my head as I look at the three dresses laid out across my new bed. I remember helping Mom get ready for her first date with Hayden in her bedroom at our old house. I didn’t know it was with him, but I could feel her excitement, and I hadn’t felt it in so long. Mom is amazing, but she set her love life completely aside to focus on raising me, so I couldn’t remember another time I’d seen her sparkle the way Hayden made her sparkle.
He loves her so fucking well, and she deserves that. They both do.
I grab the middle dress off the bed and march to the bathroom with renewed will.
It’s just a party. Who cares?
