Page 57 of Stone Rules

The closer we get to the dance floor, the less I hear of their conversation. Which is fine. Because it was already getting boring.

We work our way into the center of the floor. There are several circles of girls all dancing together, and some other co-ed groups like ours, with a few men and women hanging out on the floor doing what seems more like socializing than anything else. Then there are the couples who are doing more dirty than dancing.

We dance to a few songs as a group, and I’m all too aware of how Zach keeps inching closer to me. Before long, he has his hands on my hips, still standing a respectable distance away, but making it known he’d like to remedy that.

He leans in closer to speak in my ear. “So, Charlie, is that short for Charlene?”

Really? He’s so original.“Nope, it’s just Charlie.”

“I like it. It’s different. Your last name isn’t Brown, is it?” He laughs at his own joke.

Yeah. Never heard that one either.“No. Not Brown.”

“Well, what is it then?”

I stop moving and pull back to look him in the eye. “It’s just Charlie. And I should tell you right now that I’ve no intention of seeing you after tonight, so last names really don’t matter all that much, do they?”

He smiles. “Well, Charlie, with no last name, I like your style. Does that mean you’re interested in seeing more of metonight?”

I guffaw. “Hardly. Dancing is the only thing you’re getting out of that drink.”

He pulls me closer. “Well then, I’d better make the most of it.” He smiles. It’s mildly charming. I let him hold our bodies together and sway me to the music.

“Let’s slow it down a bit,” the D.J. says. “Let you crazy kids cool down for a minute, shall we?”

Piper motions to me that she’s heading back to the table. I nod my head in understanding. Kevin shakes her hand and walks back over to another table. I can’t imagine what that must be like. The two of them, being so secure in a relationship that they can dance with another person without it meaning anything.

The song starts and I freeze. Chills run up and down my sweaty back as Zach crushes his body to mine. I’m transported back in time, to the concert I attended last weekend. To when Adam Stuart dedicated this song to me. To when I was in the arms of another man.

I turn around to escape Zach’s arms, but he pulls me back to him, caging me to him in the same way Ethan caged me against him that night. I get pulled into the song. Adam’s voice caresses me with his words of love and longing. Emotion floods through me like a tsunami. I stop pulling away. I let his hips roll against mine. I let his body control our movements. I let his erection press against me. I let my mind pretend it’s still that night and the man behind me is the only man I’ve ever let myself need.

“You feel so good,” I hear a strange voice say behind me. My eyes fly open. Those aren’t Ethan’s words. It’s not Ethan’s voice.

My head is clouded with alcohol. My eyes are clouded with tears. I rip myself away from him and run towards the bathroom, passing by our vacant table, and noticing Piper vying for position at the bar.

I make my way down the hallway only to find a long line of women waiting to enter the bathroom before me. I turn the corner and see another door, hoping it leads to the outside because I need to escape this place so desperately I can’t even breathe. I open it and find myself in a storage room, surrounded by cartons of toilet paper and straws. I shouldn’t be in here. I spin around to leave only to find that Zach has followed me in.

He shuts the door behind him. Then he grabs me, pulling me towards him. He tries to kiss me, but I turn my head away and his lips meet my neck instead. He sucks and laves and licks the tender flesh beneath my ear. His hot breath flows over me as the ministrations of his mouth hypnotize me. His hands come up to grab my breasts. When I don’t push him away, he moans excitedly and lowers a hand to raise the hem of my short skirt.

In seconds, his fingers are inside my panties, working my clit, entering my body. He rips my underwear in his haste to remove them. Then he unbuttons his jeans and pulls himself out, rubbing his erection along my slit.

“Hold on,” he says, his raspy voice causing my eyes to snap open to catch him reaching down to his fallen jeans to get a condom. “Give me a sec.” His voice grates in my head like fingernails on a chalkboard.

I look down to see a head of dark hair. I don’t want to hear that voice. I don’t want to see this hair. I don’t want to be with this man.

Then, as I feel him push himself inside me, I close my eyes again and wish it all away. I conjure up a picture in my head. The mural on the wall I used to stare at when I was young. The painted unicorn that I begged to protect me for all those years.

But this time is different. I led him on. I let him touch me. I didn’t ask him to stop. Unicorns don’t protect those who bring it on themselves.

“Uhhhhhhh,” he cries into my chest, achieving precisely what he came for.

As soon as he pulls out of me, I pull down my skirt and plow through the door, not even caring that my panties are in a shredded ball on the storeroom floor. I race down the hall to the bathroom, pushing several women aside to get in. A lady is exiting the handicap stall and I jump ahead of the line and lock myself in to the yells of a dozen inebriated girls.

I collapse on the floor and heave all of tonight’s drinks into the toilet. Then I wet a paper towel and run it over my face as I look at myself in the old, cracked mirror. I stare at the woman’s distorted reflection. Her hair is mussed up, her eyeliner smeared, her spirit broken.

And I’m totally sure of the person who is staring back at me.

Hello again.