Page 15 of My Undead Heart
“Stay back,” Jared says and pushes me behind another group of men. “Not lookin’ for trouble, man.”
“You don’t belong here. Faggot. You don’t deserve to breathe the same air.”
Gasps from the crowd spread a quietness in an otherwise deafening setting. People look on, waiting for what’s to happen next, but no one butts in or pulls the asshole away. Jared holds the man’s gaze, not backing down, but I know my friend. He’s not a fighter.
“Let’s go,” I say, losing my thirst for a drink. Inserting myself between Jared and the man, I turn to face my friend. “Jared. He’s not worth it.”
“Fine.” Jared takes a step back, but when I go to follow I’m stopped in my tracks.
My skin prickles with alarm and I’m temporarily held immobile with a mixture of shock and fear. I’m familiar with the leers and come-ons from strangers who feel it’s acceptable to objectify a woman they don’t know simply because she’ssexy. As if that characteristic is an open invitation for forwardness and inappropriate words. But I’ve never been touched before. Not in a sexual manner in a crowded bar. This alone causes my brain to glitch before I can process how to react.
The rough grip of a hand as it shoves further under the back of my skirt and painfully squeezes my ass cheek fills my gut with panic. “That’s right. Walk away,” the jackass says but it’s his fingers grazing the center of my panties that jolts me out of my haze.
I whirl around to tell the man off but Jared must read the anger in my gaze because he steps forward too, shoving the man’s hand out from the back of my skirt.
“Keep your fucking hands off her!”
“I thought you were a gay fuck. But you don’t like it when I do this?” the man shouts and reaches for my body again, but Jared charges forward and shoves him in the chest.
“You wanna fucking go?” the man shouts.
“Jared!” I shout out a warning, but it doesn’t take long for all hell to break loose.
