Page 52 of Life of the Party

“Who was?”

“My friends. At the restaurant. They said you were bad, but I didn’t believe them. You’re way too…sweet-looking.”

“Well, my friend, I guess looks can be deceiving.”

“Yeah, I guess.” He shrugged. “But if they were right about that, maybe they were right about the other thing, too.”

“I think your friends gossip too much.” I laughed. “Why? What else did they say?”

Brad shrugged again, taking a step toward me so he was standing between my legs. With a grin, he rested his hands on my knees.

“They said you were easy.” His voice was low now, amused. “A sure thing.”

“They said…what?” The smile faded slowly from my face. And then, suddenly, all of it made sense. Brad’s unexpected interest in me, the real reason for his sudden attraction even despite all our obvious differences.

He didn’t really like me; he didn’t want to be my friend. He just wanted to get laid.

It stung. I blinked at him stupidly for a moment, trying to recover from this shock. All night I’d been revelling in the thought of a new friend, and the whole time he’d just seen me as a means to an end. It was harsh, a brutal realization.

I crossed my arms. “Sorry to disappoint you.” I glared.

“Don’t be.” He smiled wickedly. “You won’t.”

Then, suddenly, so quickly I couldn’t move to stop him, Brad grabbed me by the shoulders and tried to grasp me in a kiss. I struggled for a moment to get a grip, and then—either because I was coke-strong and angry or because he was so drunk—I managed to push him off me, hard. Brad staggered backwards and fell in an unruly heap on the ground. I slid quickly off the tailgate and ran as fast as I could for the approach way. I’d go all the way down the road until I found Charlie, if I had to.

I saw headlights approaching, but they were faint and off in the distance. I prayed they were from Charlie’s car. Brad was tough, and drunk or not, I knew it wouldn’t take him long to recuperate and come looking for me. I hoped my rejection had been enough to turn him off for good, but somehow, with a thrill of terror, I knew that wouldn’t be the case.

It wasn’t. Even as I ran away, Brad caught up, silently, in a full run, and tackled me to the earth. It happened so quickly and unexpectedly that I hadn’t even time to prepare myself. The full weight of him hit me running; his two-hundred-pound body slammed my little frame down onto the grass. My head hit the hard, cold ground with a sickening thump; his weight crushed me.

I was aware of an odd, high-pitched ringing sound as my vision slowly restored, the edges of my sight crackling white until the disruption faded, dissolving into the black sky of night, stretching above me, dotted with bright stars. My breath was harsh, gasping loudly in my ears as I struggled for consciousness.

There was weight on me. I couldn’t breathe. Somewhere in the dim corners of my mind, I could hear the jangling of my belt as it was ripped open. The noise shook me, and I realized sluggishly what was happening, what was about to happen if I couldn’t stop Brad. I could feel his hot, sticky, thick hands on my skin. Weakly, I lifted my arms, but there was no strength in me; the blow when he knocked me down had robbed me of any might. Feebly, I tried to stop him from undoing my jeans.

There was another noise then. New, and totally foreign, but near. The sound of car tires crunching on gravel, an engine shuddering into silence.

Charlie. Charlie was there. Charlie could help me.

“Shhh.” Brad stopped suddenly, as aware of the car as I was. He pressed his heavy hand over my mouth. I breathed desperately through my nose. In the dim flicker of the yard light, Brad’s face looked eerie, crazy. He was breathing fast.

“Do you see her? She said she’d be at the entrance. Mackenzie?” I could hear Charlie’s voice calling to me. Her shoes stepped onto the road. “Mac?”

I wanted to answer her. I needed to answer her. I tried to shriek as best I could with Brad’s hand over my mouth. The noise was a muffled, strangled cry.

“Shhhh,” Brad warned, pressing harder. Black spots danced before my eyes.

“I don’t see her.” Another voice, distinctly male. Zack. “Maybe she’s at the fire.”

“Maybe.” Charlie’s voice sounded doubtful. “But she said she’d be here.”

“She’s probably totally wasted by now. Let’s go see.”

I could hear their shoes passing by on the gravel and knew it was my last chance. They’d be too late to help me on their way back. I fought then; I had no strength, but I fought. I squirmed and writhed and tried desperately for any way to free any part of me from Brad’s deathly heavy grip. I screamed into his palm; I tried to bite his flesh. Somehow I managed to wind my hand up between his arms, my fingers searching the contours of his face, my breath almost spent when I found what I was looking for. Roughly, I shoved my fingertips into his eye sockets and pressed as hard as I could.

It worked. It was just enough to make him instinctively protect his face, to remove his hand from my mouth. I drew a hasty ragged breath and screamed as loudly as I was able with the few seconds I had.

“What the hell—”

“Did you hear that?”

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