Page 33 of Fighting the Forbidden

I keep my gaze focused on the wall in front of me, not wanting to lead him on. “Yeah?”

“You wanna go upstairs?” he asks. “You can show me Hayden’s pink bedroom.”

A mental red flag pops up at the unnatural emphasis he puts on bed. “Uh…I don’t know if Hayden would like me giving tours of her room.”

He stares at the ceiling for a second. “Yeah, but we could be alone.” His thumb scratches over my shoulder again. “Maybe you could give me head?”

What?

My jaw drops and I stare at him.

Did he just say what I think he said?

Each word of our limited conversation replays in my mind.

What did I say that translated into I want to suck your dick in his addled brain?

“No.”

“But we have such good chemistry.” He grabs my hand and tries to push it against his crotch. “Look how hard I am for you.”

That’s supposed to impress me?

I yank my hand away before I encounter any “hardness” and shoot him a glare that I wish had the power to make his dick shrivel to the size of a rotten banana stem. “Guys get an erection if a stiff breeze tickles them. It’s not exactly an accomplishment.” I tilt my head. “Or a compliment.”

He snort-laughs, then stops and frowns. “What?”

“I have a boyfriend.”

“No you don’t. Hayden said you’re single.” He lifts his chin. “You don’t gotta swallow.” He drops his gaze. “I can come on your tits.”

Revulsion washes over me. “Charming,” I scoff, and turn away.

A stiff grip encircles my arm, clamping down and yanking hard enough that seltzer bubbles and fizzes out of the top of the can in my other hand.

“You don’t have to be such a bitch about it,” he says.

“Get. Off. Me.” My brother and his friends have been teaching me how to defend myself since I was the smallest kid on the playground getting picked on by the class bullies. Instead of following my natural instinct to yank my arm away, I push forward, twist, and pull down until I’m free.

He grunts in surprise.

An image of kneeing him in the nuts flashes in front of my eyes, but I don’t want to escalate the situation.

Run.

Get away.

I bolt down the hallway in search of anyone at this dumb party that I trust. My arm stings from where he grabbed me, and I press the cool can of seltzer over the spot.

The music’s so loud my head throbs. My panicked gaze pings around the house. The kitchen and dining room are crowded. A guy who’s in my physics class is trying to execute a headstand on top of a keg. Apparently he learned nothing about the distribution of weight with respect to gravitational force. He lands on his back with a thud that shakes the floor. Beer pools around him and his friends howl with laughter.

“You okay?” I shout while his buddies continue to mock him.

He giggles and rolls onto his side. “Yeah. You want next?”

Idiots.

“Nope. I’m good.” I just want to go home.

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