by Mia Hoddell
A part of me has always envied and wished I could do what they are: to let my body move so freely, to flirt carelessly, and let go of my inhibitions. I want to know what it feels like to not care what people think of you. However, every time I try a wall slams down in my mind, paranoia seizing control of my body. It’s like hundreds of eyes are staring at me, waiting for me to slip up so they can laugh. No matter how much I tell myself they aren’t and no one cares, my body refuses to relax and cooperate. In the end I make a bigger fool of myself by being unable to move.
I’m so caught up in my thoughts that when a powerful grip lands on my shoulder, squeezing it, I let out a small shriek of panic. Regardless, the hand doesn’t move. Instead the arm it’s connected to comes into my eye line and a man sits beside me with a cocky smirk on his face.
“Didn’t mean to scare you, beauty.” From the way he slurs his unwelcome name for me I know he’s drunk. Slowly, I reach up to remove his hand, but the one not on my shoulder closes around mine tightly. “Come on, beauty, let’s go dance.” His gaze lingers on the front of my dress, attempting to peer down the top when he forcefully pulls me up.
Irritation washes over me, causing me to yank my hand from his grip. “I’m okay here, thanks,” I say dryly, hoping he’ll get bored of my reluctance and move on to his next unsuspecting target. If anything though, my attitude seems to make him even more determined as he takes my hand again.
Scooting closer to me, so that he’s perched on the edge of his stool, he lets out a laugh and his face moves towards mine. “Mmm … that sounds like an even better idea.” He’s so close his hot breath sweeps across my neck. It causes a shiver to run down my spine in disgust; the alcohol on his breath so strong I almost gag. Nerves are starting to spread through me, realising this guy has no intention of leaving me alone. “I’ll go get us some drinks, be back in a second.”
I exhale in relief when he puts some distance between us and heads over to the bar. Immediately, I scan the crowd for Cece, and her vivid red dress captures my attention.
Locking eyes with each other, I try to signal that I need her to come over, but she only responds with a look of confusion. I point at her and then at the table, and she smiles at me knowingly. She points at the guy who had been next to me seconds ago and then at me, giving me a thumbs up before she returns her attention to the guy grinding against her.
Scowling, I curse her mentally for leaving me hanging. For a second I take my eyes off her to check on drunk guy’s progress—he’s still at the bar—and when I look back, Cece has once again melted into the crowd and is nowhere in sight. Having ignored me, I decide she can fend for herself. If you combine it with what she said to me earlier, I’m not too bothered about ditching her. I’ll just send a text once I’m outside. All I know is that I don’t want to be stuck at this table when drunk guy returns. Everything about him makes my skin crawl.
Standing, I reach into my clutch and pull out my phone while I move to leave. I only make it three steps before the same strong grip lands on my shoulder, causing me to jump before my body stiffens.
“You’re not leaving, are you, beauty?” His tone makes it clear he isn’t asking me a question, rather implying that I shouldn’t take another step. Ice cold fear starts to surge through my veins, being pushed faster by my pounding heart as my brain struggles to come up with a way out of the situation.
I don’t want to let him touch me, and I definitely don’t want to head back over to the darkened table with him. But I’m not strong enough to fight his grip. I think about causing a scene, kicking up a fuss to attract attention. However, when his fingers flex and emphasise the power within him my mouth refuses to open. I don’t know what this guy is capable of.
“You’ll stay put this time?” He stares at me, obviously waiting for a response, but I can’t give him what he desires. When he notices the stubborn resolve in my eyes, he gestures to another guy by the bar. They exchange a meaningful look and then his friend joins me, blocking my exit to box me in between the table, wall, and his body.
Briefly, I consider pushing him away and making a run for it, but drunk guy’s eyes never leave mine. They’re almost black as I watch him order a couple of drinks, swiping his greasy, black hair that has flopped over his eyes back. Running is only going to anger him.
Think, Neve! You’re not going to just sit here and take what this creep wants to dish out. My hands tighten into fists, but my right hand refuses to close all of the way. The cold metal in my palm being pushed into my skin finally registers among the panic while my heart races faster than the music.
I glance across at drunk guy, noticing he’s distracted by someone at the bar and my bodyguard has his back to me, so I switch on my phone. The screen is glaring in the dim light of the club, but I put up with the stabs of pain. Quickly bringing up my messages, I type a frantic text to Blake. I know I’ll end up ruining his date, but I don’t have another alternative.
As drunk guy approaches with two beers, I switch off my screen, hoping he didn’t see and praying that Blake checks his phone before this guy tries anything. I won’t go down without a fight if he attempts anything other than talking, but I’d rather not be front page news if it can be avoided. I get that’s a strange thing to worry about, but I really hate confrontations. Mum would also blame me for attracting the ‘wrong’ kind of attention.
Please be somewhere close, Blake, I think as a bottle is pushed towards me and the guy moves his stool so close that when he sits down his leg is pressed right against mine.
CHAPTER FOUR
Blake
I know it’s rude, yet I’m itching to check my mobile that has just gone off in my back pocket. My attention should be focused solely on Amber. She’s sitting across the table from me and trying to engage me in a conversation about … well, I don’t really know what she’s been saying because my mind is focused on whether or not I should check the damn phone.
I shouldn’t worry, but I have this nagging feeling it’s Neve. And knowing where she’s been dragged to I have a horrible feeling that she needs me. There’s no logical thought behind jumping to this conclusion, just the fact she’s been on my mind all night. My attention should be focused on the cute redhead—yes her parents were cruel with her name—but I can’t. Even the little things that usually capture my attention on a date, hair twirling around her finger or her foot grazing my leg every now and then, aren’t working. Pangs of guilt gnaw at me for being so caught up in my own mind. Nonetheless, when my phone goes off for a second time with a reminder I have an unread message it dampens the feeling and sends my thoughts straight back to Neve.
The small sigh from across the table causes me to look up at Amber. “Just check it, Blake, it’s obviously bugging you. I don’t mind.”
Sending her a small smile of thanks, I reach into my pocket and bring up the message, my heartbeat increasing when I see that the text is from Neve.
As I scan the words, my eyes almost bulge from my head. The rapid thumping of my heart pushes anger through me so it’s a struggle to see anything but red. I check the words again, slowly this time to make sure I was reading things correctly.
Neve: Help! Trapped with random guy, won’t let leave club. Scared.
The disjointed phrases are unusual for Neve. Her messages are usually clearer and I’ve seen her read and re-read texts before sending them to make sure things are correct. She’s clearly written the message in a hurry. The thought of her with some stranger, scared and trapped, makes my blood boil. I should have convinced her not to go out.
“Sorry, Amber, I have to go. Someone needs me.” I try not to let on that it’s Neve as my dates never seem to approve of another girl being with me even when I say we’re only friends. They never believe me, and by the narrow slits of Amber’s eyes I’m not going to get away with my answer on this occasion either.
“What can be so important at this time of night?”
“I’ll make it up to you on the weekend … promise.” I’m
already out of my seat, hurriedly pulling enough notes to cover everything from my wallet. When she refuses to take them from my hand, I drop them on the table in irritation, aggravated that she’s delaying me.
“Blake, don’t you dare walk out on me,” she hisses, trying not to draw peoples’ gazes towards us. Her forehead is creased with lines as she glowers at me.
“I’m sorry, I have to.” I kiss her cheek, genuinely contrite. However, Neve has always come first and she needs me, so pulling away from Amber I rush out of the door before she has time to react.
* * *
My fury has built on the drive over. Before it was simmering, but now I’ve reached the club and it’s bubbling over. I’m sure I broke every law about driving on my way over and gone through several red lights, but all I can think about is getting to Neve … about not being too late. The only images that have been in my head since leaving Amber are of Neve’s frightened stare as assholes force themselves upon her in various situations.
Parking the car, I don’t even bother to check it’s locked before rushing to the entrance. My eyes dart frantically to the queue and to the bouncers on the door, trying to figure out how I can get into the club this minute. The thought of standing in line, waiting and not knowing if I’m too late, has me jogging over to the bouncers.
I push past the few people at the front, causing a couple of women to shout at me, but I ignore them. The noises, however, do alert the bouncers to my presence.
“I need to get in there, please. My friend’s trapped with some guy who’s refusing to let her leave,” I blurt out when I realise I’m not going to be able to force my way past two of them.
“This is an exclusive event.” His response is bored but stern.
“Please, she texted me. She needs my help.” I move to try and step into the club, but his arm blocks me, his hand finding my chest and guiding me firmly back.
“Where is she? I’ll get someone to go and check on her.” He pulls out a radio to call someone inside the building but it only causes me to groan in frustration.
“I don’t know. Look, this is all she sent me, and that’s not something she usually does. Please just let me in.” I pull out my phone, the screen opening on to the text from Neve I hadn’t bothered to close. His eyes scan the message, yet he doesn’t seem interested.
“I’m sorry, but this is a private event. You don’t get in unless you’re on the guest list.”
Raising my hands to my hair, I pull at it as I let out a strangled noise. I’m not stupid enough to think I can take on two men, but the thought of some guy touching Neve is forcing me to consider some crazy ideas. Damn Cece to hell for this. Since when did they hold private events anyway?
“Don’t try it, mate. I believe you, but there’s nothing I can—”
I stop listening to him when I see the side door open and a couple leave. The woman is wearing a tight-fitting black dress that I’m positive I’ve seen Neve wearing before. She’s glancing around like she’s wary of something, her head turning in the crook of the man’s arm, and her legs are trembling. I’m surprised by the amount of detail I’m able to pick up in my heightened state. It doesn’t look like she’s resisting the man as he guides her towards the taxis, but it’s definitely her.
“Neve!”
She tries to turn at my voice, but the man keeps her moving in the direction of the taxis. His hand finds the small of her back as he opens the door to the nearest car. I break out into a run. There is no way in hell she is getting in a car with that asshole.
I reach her in a few strides. Tearing her away from him, I push her behind me and turn my attention back to the slimy creep who’s trying to look threatening.
“What the hell, man?” he cries, his fists balling at his sides while bringing himself to his full height. Even straining his neck he’s shorter than me. I don’t want to throw the first punch, but I’m not opposed to the idea if provoked.
“You stay away from her. She’s not going anywhere with you.” I can feel Neve hovering behind me, keeping close to my side.
“Blake—”
“Not now, Neve.”
“But you’ve got the wrong guy,” she cries again, breaking through my anger and deep breaths. Regardless, I don’t take my eyes from him.
“Listen, man, I was only helping her. Some asshole in there had her cornered. I was going to put her in a taxi and be on my way.”
He seems genuine enough so I allow my posture to relax marginally. When my shoulders lose their tension, his do the same. “Thanks for helping her.”
He nods at me. “You okay with me leaving you with him?” He’s looking straight past me to Neve. Instant hate fills me at the fact he thinks I would hurt her.
“I’m fine. Thanks for the help,” she says and collapses against my side when he walks back off in the direction of the club. I give her a subtle once over while she’s not looking, checking to make sure she’s okay, then pull her under my arm.
“Thanks for coming. I’m sorry it was a pointless trip,” she murmurs into my chest and I’m about to respond when a greasy-haired man steps in front of us, blocking the path.
“I’d be careful with that bitch if I were you. A right tease. You’ll get nothing out of her.” The sneer in his words, the way he leers at Neve, and how she recoils further into my side causes something to snap inside of me. Turning so Neve is shielded behind me, I let my fist fly. I don’t need Neve to confirm he’s the slimy fucker who had her trapped. Within a split second the sickening sound of bones crunching beneath my hand is followed by a howl of pain as his hands fly up to cradle his nose. Grabbing him by the neck, I turn to face Neve, keeping myself between them. I’m panting hard from rage and I can see her fighting the tears building in her eyes. The sight makes me want to pull her into my arms, to reassure her, but I need to deal with the situation first.
“Do you want to make a complaint against him?”
“For what? We were going to have some fun, weren’t we, beauty?”
I throw him forward forcefully, not letting go of his neck. The movement causes his hand to hit his broken nose and rips another shriek from him, tears welling from the pain.
“Neve?” I know what she’s going to say, but I have to hear it. If the decision is left up to me, I’ll march him back to the club and get him arrested, but I can see the last thing Neve wants is to deal with the cops. She confirms my thought with a shake of her head, and even though it pains me to let the asshole get away with it, I release him.
Shoving him hard, he stumbles away from us both. “Get out of here before I break something else.”
He shoots me a glare over his shoulder, looking even more sinister with blood now running down across his lip, but thankfully he staggers off with a drunken sway. The pain will be much worse when the alcohol leaves his system. It’s the only reassurance I have that he’s not totally getting away with everything.
When he’s at a distance I deem safe enough, I stop watching him and turn to Neve. Opening my arms, I don’t say anything as I draw her into me, wrapping my arms around her body tightly while resting my head on top of hers. She clutches back just as hard and that’s when I realise she’s shaking. It’s barely noticeable at first, but soon it can’t be missed while she grips on to me like she’s fighting for her life.
“You’re okay, Stripes. You’re safe,” I whisper into her hair, using her nickname and running my hands up and down her spine to try and get her tense, rigid body to relax against me. “He’s gone; it’s just you and me. I’ve got you, okay? He’s not going to come back.” I keep murmuring reassuring words. I don’t know if they’re helping, but I can’t think of what else to do except give her the time she needs to pull herself back together. Evidently the shock of everything has claimed her body.
Ever so slowly her shakes begin to subside. The tension in her grip begins to ease and her breathing becomes steadier. I loosen my hold, feeling she wants to pull back.
“Thank you.” Her voice comes out in
a hoarse whisper and she gazes up at me, her face tear-stained and blotchy with red marks.
“Are you okay? He didn’t hurt you, did he?” My mind is praying she tells me he didn’t do anything. If she says the opposite I won’t be able to stop myself from going after him.
“He … No, he only restrained me. He was trying to get me to leave with him when that other guy interrupted us. I don’t know what would have happened if he hadn’t stopped him from pulling me from the club … well, I do but I don’t want to think about it.” She shivers, the idea physically scaring her, and I pull her back so her face is pressed against my chest. My fingers run through her hair from root to tip soothingly, but the gesture is mostly to distract and calm myself. Just like Neve, I don’t even want to contemplate what would have happened if the random stranger hadn’t been there for her. My imagination is throwing all kinds of images at me, and not one of them was something I want to picture.
“I’m sorry for ruining your night. I knew I shouldn’t have come here, but I just couldn’t turn Cece down.”
I sigh. It’s typical Neve to feel she’s putting someone out, even though things could have ended much worse than they had. “Don’t be stupid. You did the right thing texting me and you didn’t ruin anything.”
She pulls back to watch me, studying my expression, yet she must have not found what she wanted because she says, “But you were on a date. I spoiled your night.”
“You didn’t ruin anything,” I reassure her, and it’s the truth. I would rather be where I am now, knowing she’s safe in my arms, than finding the text too late because I was in a restaurant.