What Her Dad Doesn't Know(5)
I turn around and see the guy from earlier. I thought he’d left, but I guess Steve can only show people the door. And the guy decided he was going to stick around and wait for me. I swallow hard. In the dark his features take on a ghoulish appearance, the shadows hiding his eyes and twisting his sneer. This is bad. Alarm bells are ringing in my head and every muscle in my body is twitching to run. I eye the distance between us, wondering if there’s enough for me to escape. I’m good at sprinting, but this guy’s legs are longer than mine. He’d catch up in no time.
“Get lost.” I try to make my voice cold and hard as his, to let him know I’m not afraid. But it’s really no use. He’s tall and heavy, probably from beer and hard living, but it’s still more than I could take on. I pull nervously on my denim shorts, but there was no way I could cover myself up in that scrap. He sees something he likes, and he looks like he’s going to take it one way or another.
“No way. It’s my night off and I want to have a good time.”
His eyes rake over me, letting me know exactly what he meant by ‘good time’. Even though I didn’t want to, I take a step back up against the concrete wall. My hands are shaking, and I clench them in a fist in case I need to throw a punch. I wish I could get into my purse where my phone is, but it’s one of those huge bucket bags that jumble everything together. And there’s no way I’m going to take my eyes off this jerk.
“I don’t.”
“So why are you dressed like a little slut?”
I didn’t have an answer for that. Not one that would stop this guy anyways. He lunges forward and grabs my wrist faster than I can move it, twisting it in his sweaty grip. I can feel something pull in my shoulder, but I don’t care.
“Come on. No one dresses like that who isn’t asking for it,” he says, pushing his face close to mine. I can smell the sour smell of beer. His other hand reaches out and cops a feel, squeezing my ass out of those damn short shorts. “And I can tell you were asking for it, the way you kept bending over at the bar for me.”
I turn my head away, tears springing unwillingly to my eyes.
“Stop it,” I plead.
“Oh come on.” His face looms closer, his lips puckered up in an grotesque way.
I can’t take it anymore. I have to do something. I turn back towards him and spit at his face, the gooey liquid landing across his face.
Smack!
My head whips to the side. Pain blooms across my cheek, hot and humiliating and my ear rings. I lift a hand up to my face, shocked more than anything. I’d never been hit before in my life, and I have no clue what to do. I’m stuck in the back of the restaurant, and who knows how long it will be before someone comes to find me. The guy presses closer, the rank smell of sweat overpowering my nose.
“Hel-”
Smack! He hits me again, cutting off my scream. It’s harder this time, and my head knocks against the concrete, making me see stars. I know where this is going, and my heart starts thumping right out of my chest. I’m scared. My breath catches in my throat and my vision blurs with my tears. I can’t believe this is happening to me. I was always careful about these things. I kept an eye on my drink at parties, and I never walked home alone. Why was it, now that I’d renounced all that, that this was happening? I squeeze my eyes shut, hoping to just block it all out.
And then, suddenly, he’s gone, pulled back by something even stronger than he is. I collapse with relief, sliding down the wall onto the dirty ground. There’s grime and grease all over, and dirty cigarette butts, but I don’t care. I hear the sickening sound of flesh meeting flesh, and then it happens again.
“Get your ugly mug out of here before I make it unrecognizable.” Whoever it is is speaking with deadly precision. The words aren’t a threat, they’re a promise.
Andrew! His voice is low and dark, the anger swimming beneath the surface like a shark. The other guy’s whimpering, clutching at his nose as he scrambles back onto his feet. Now that there’s someone his size around, he’s running. I can almost see the tail tucked between his legs, and I manage a weak smile. Andrew turns toward me, and for a second his eyes are almost black with rage, but just as quickly it’s gone, and he’s dropped down on one knee by my side.
“Noelle, are you okay?” he asks. His voice is gentle and quiet. All of a sudden the fear and adrenaline I’d tried to keep in check break loose, and I lean into his chest, sobbing. I don’t want to act like this, like a crybaby, but I can’t help it. His presence is so protective and reassuring and safe that I let everything out.