Page 94 of Boyfriend
“Fuck you,” he sneers. Then he lunges.
I leap forward, almost getting clear of him. But he catches me by the wrist.
As soon as I feel his thick fingers close tightly around my arm, fear washes through me. Bile climbs up my throat. I’ve really done it now.
He shoves me against my clean white wall, both his hands on my arms. “Now I’ve got you where I want you.”
“Where’s D-Dalton?” I stammer. “He’ll be w-waiting for you.”
“Let ’im wait. I’m busy here.” Price releases one of my arms, only to put his meaty hand around my throat.
It’s not tight, but I’ve never been so scared. The threat is there. I open my mouth to scream, but I gag instead.
And he laughs.
That’s what snaps me out of my inaction—anger. This fucker doesn’t actually want me. He just wants to be terrifying. We’re standing so close together that I don’t have much room to move.
Still, it’s enough. I lift one foot off the ground and knee him between the legs.
It’s not a direct hit, but he still lets out a shout of surprise. “FUCK, Abbi. You fucking CUNT!”
I lift the other foot, preparing to try again, when I hear a crash in the doorway—the sound of a box of books being dropped too quickly onto a wood floor. “What the hell are you doing?”
Dalton. My God, I have never been so happy to see anyone in my life.
Price has already released me. “Nothing. Just fucking around.”
This is the moment when I should start yelling. I should let both of these men know how bad it really is, and how I’m not going to take it anymore.
Instead, I put both my hands around my throat and start shaking like a paint mixer at the hardware store. A sob escapes from my throat.
“Oh God. Abbi,” Dalton says in a hushed voice. “Oh God.”
I sink slowly to the floor. I’m fine now, right? How come I can’t even hold myself up?
“Hey guys!” Weston’s voice says from the doorway, and I lift my head from my hands, like a seedling toward the sun. “Whoa. What the fuck is he doing here? Abbi?” Weston crosses the room in a flash, lowering himself to his knees in front of me. “Abbi, hey, what happened?”
I’m pulled against his chest in gentle arms, and I take my first real breath in ages.
“Get out,” Dalton barks, presumably to Price. “Get out of my sight.”
“Call the police,” Weston says. “Not joking.”
My apartment door slams, which is probably Price’s doing. And a moment later Dalton is also kneeling on the floor in front of me. I let out a terrified sob, and it echoes in the empty room.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Dalton pleads.
“She tried,” Weston says through clenched teeth. “You brushed her off.”
I look up at Dalton, whose mouth is opening and closing like a fish. “She said he pestered her, but I never…” His mouth flops around some more.
The thing is, I don’t know exactly what I said to Dalton. I don’t remember the precise words I used. “It was him or me,” I whisper, knowing that I’m not making a lot of sense right now.
“She thought you’d take your new wife’s side,” Weston says. “Can you really blame her? It’s not like she has a lot of family to spare.”
“Shit.” I don’t even know if I’ve ever heard Dalton curse before now. “Abbi, I’m sorry. You should have—” He swallows. “I should have asked you more questions.”
“You know he’s a troll,” I bite out. “Can’t finish a sentence. Can’t hold down a job. So you just hired him after he got fired again?” My voice is shaking.
