My whole body goes stiff. I grab his wrist. “Stop.”
“Fuck,” he mumbles, his face buried in my hair. He’s hard as a rock underneath me, almost rolling his hips into me. This is bad. He’s too far gone to say no right now, and if we were doing this at my apartment, I might have to go along with it. But we’re not in my apartment. We’re in the back of the club. As much as I’m trained to avoid conflict, I can’t let him undress me in public.
“Shane, I mean it. Stop that.”
“Why should he stop?” Rick says, his voice taunting. “It’s nothing he hasn’t done before, right?”
Oh no, this is bad. I figured Shane wouldn’t tell anyone that we haven’t had sex yet. It might make people question his virility. Maybe it sounds weird, but I’m fine with everyone assuming I’ve put out even if I haven’t. Except the way Rick’s eyes have lit up, he must know we haven’t.
Shane’s body tenses, his fingers tightening on my ass and on my breast. “Shut the fuck up.”
Maybe I should be glad my boyfriend is finally sticking up for me, even though I know it’s more about himself. But my conditioning kicks in. I stroke his arm, trying to soothe. “Don’t worry about him. Let’s get out of here. Let’s just go.”
He’s still taut with anger, with frustration. “Why do you fucking do this to me?” he says, bitter and sharp. For a moment I think he knows how toxic we are together.
I think he hates it too.
“Too fucking uptight to spread your legs,” he adds, and my hope withers.
“We’ll go back to my place,” I say, placating. This feels like a pot boiling over, and I’m desperate to remove the heat. So what if I have to sleep with my boyfriend to do it. Girls do that all the time. At least that’s what I tell myself.
He rocks his erection into me, and I know it’s working.
I close my eyes for a moment. This is how it will be, the throbbing rhythm, the darkness. With my eyes closed I can pretend he’s someone else. Best of all, I can pretend I’m someone else.
“You’ve waited this long, man,” Rick says, breaking into my fantasy. “Why stop now?”
I feel the heat go up a couple of degrees. “Let’s go,” I say, pleading.
“You got some magic pussy, is that it? Some fucking unicorn tits under that dress? Because I’ve seen my share of tits. Not sure why you’re hiding yours like they’re something special.”
Shane shoves off his chair, and I tumble off his lap. The ground hits my knees hard, my palms harder. I shudder out a breath. God, this is messed up. And I don’t even care. I don’t want a great relationship with a nice boy. I don’t want Shane either. But I can’t have what I want, so this is where I end up, on my hands and knees in a dirty club.
I turn in time to see Shane haul Rick out of his chair.
Rick is either too drunk or too stupid to care. He laughs, loud and cocky. “Her sister is a fucking stripper. And your girl won’t even let you touch her.”
Oh, that’s too damn far. I’ll do almost anything to avoid confrontation, but I draw the line where my sister is concerned. She’s not a stripper—not anymore—and when she was, she did it to protect me.
I don’t get a chance to defend her honor, though, because Shane tackles him. They fly into the table behind us, knocking it over. People scatter, forming a circle to lock us in. Making this into a circus act.
My stomach turns over, and I push myself unsteadily to my feet. People don’t move out of the way for me like they did for Shane and Rick, but I shove myself between them, blind, sick, heading sideways until I see red lights that spell EXIT.
Humid air wraps its fingers around my throat. The rain seems to have stopped, leaving every surface glittering. I lean against the damp brick wall, sucking in moist air that’s surprisingly fresh for an alley. My head falls back, and I stare up at a heavy blanket of dark clouds.
There are no stars. There are never any stars.
A harsh metal sound warns me that Shane’s not done with me tonight.
“Clara!” He barrels into the alley like he’s still spoiling for a fight. A bruise darkens the side of his face. And judging from the glint in his eyes, he blames me.
My heart leaps into my throat. “You’re scaring me.”
He pushes right into my face, hands flat against the brick on either side of me. His hot breath blows across my cheek. “You’ve been leading me around by my dick since we met.”
“That’s not true.” We met at a coffee cart outside the art building. He was in his third year, taking a basic art class to satisfy his business degree requirement. He was ahead of me in line after class, and when I stepped forward to order, I discovered he’d paid for my drink. After I got my coffee, he introduced himself, using the charming smile that made everyone fall in line—even me.