Hellion, a New Adult Romance Novel(87)

 

I bang on the door over and over, giving it a couple good punches too while I’m at it. All it does is shake in its frame. I’m still stuck. Powerless. Trapped.

 

I look down at the floor. The space under the door beckons. I chew on my bottom lip as I survey the situation. If I squeeze myself pretty flat, I could probably get under it.

 

“Oh, God, oh, God, oh God.” I really don’t want to do this. The floor is beyond dirty. I don’t even know what color the tiles are supposed to be, but they’re gray right now. There are smears. There are things. I don’t even know what things, but there are things. Viruses for sure. Germs. Things worse than germs. Smells … ugh. I can’t. I can’t.

 

Laughter comes through the door. I picture the girl in the mini-skirt dropping her head back to laugh at something witty Mick has said and him leaning forward and kissing her throat.

 

“Wait! Mick! Don’t do it! I’m coming!” I yell, just before I drop down onto my knees in the stall.

 

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

 

 

 

 

 

I’M HALFWAY OUT OF THE stall on my belly, feeling like a total dirty toilet-snake slithering around, when the bathroom door opens and the loud sounds of the crowd and the music come blasting in.

 

I look up at an amazonian woman wearing heels and jeans standing not very far from my face. She looks familiar, and I’m pretty sure it’s because she’s a supermodel who dates George Clooney.

 

“Uhhh …” I try to play off the fact that I’m wallowing in strip club toilet stink at her feet. “Heh, heh. Hi.”

 

She lifts an eyebrow and stares at me. I’m immediately impressed with her skills. And I thought I was awesome at speaking without talking. She’s like an eyebrow ninja or something. I wonder if they taught her that in supermodel school.

 

“Do you need some help?” she asks, coming a step closer.

 

“Yeah,” I say, pressing my palms into the floor. I’m going to sterilize them with fire later. “The lock broke while I was inside.”

 

She bends in half and puts her hand down where I can reach it.

 

I cringe. “I’m not sure you want to touch my hand right now,” I say, hesitating as I lift my fingers off the floor a little.

 

“Trust me, everything washes off with a little soap and water.”

 

I lean on her strength and work my way the rest of the distance past the door and stand. I let her go when I’m sure I won’t fall. We walk over to the sinks together and turn the water on side-by-side.

 

“Thanks,” I say. “That was very cool of you.”

 

“Don’t mention it.” She loads up with soap from the dispenser and washes her hands as she looks in the mirror.

 

“It’s flawless,” I say, smiling as I take in her reflection. “No need to worry.”

 

She glances at me before going back to her hands. “What’s flawless?”

 

“Your face. Your hair. Everything.” Okay, I’m fan-girling right now and I don’t even know who she is. I’ve never been around someone this pretty before, though, so I can’t be blamed for my stupidity. If she wants to date me, I might say yes. She has that much power. I’m just not sure how I’m going to get around her girl parts, though. Those will be a problem.

 

She gets a sour look on her face and goes back to the water without responding.

 

“Did I say something wrong?” I ask, shutting off the faucet in front of me. I’ve left a layer of skin in the sink with all my scrubbing, but I’m not complaining. I’ll have to burn my clothes later.

 

“No, it’s fine. Thanks.”

 

“Do you not like it when people say nice things to you?” I’m standing there, kind of stunned by the idea of hating compliments. I could take a bath in them and never get tired of it.

 

She sighs heavily and then leans on the sink, drying her hands with a paper towel. “I hear it all the time. It gets old. I’d rather people just ignore it and me sometimes.”

 

Recognition dawns when she faces me more fully. “You’re the stripper!” I point at her, like she’s a freak animal at the zoo. I can’t help it. “You were awesome!”

 

Her smile isn’t very happy. “Yes. I’m the stripper.”

 

My face falls. “I’m sorry. That was shitty. I’m an asshole.” I look at the door. Escape looks pretty good about now.

 

“Don’t worry about it. Thanks for coming to the show.” She turns around to leave and I follow behind, hoping I can ease some of the sting of my earlier words.