She craned her head to look for Amy, but she was having no luck. It felt like more and more people were being crushed into the space. How was this in line with the fire code? Surely, the place would be shutdown soon.
Walking in the direction of the bar, Devon tried to find Amy in the crowd. Seriously, it was getting harder and harder to maneuver through the room, and she had to elbow people out of the way. This wasn’t okay, and it wasn’t fun. They shouldn’t let any more people in. Things could get out of control.
Devon looked up over the heads of people in front of her and sighed. It felt like she was never going to reach the bar. There was a huge line anyway. She thought maybe the restroom would be a better alternative. At least there, she would have some privacy.
She turned to walk the other direction and slammed right into a meaty guy who glared at her as she lost her balance and tumbled to the floor. Someone stepped on her hand as she tried to get up. Devon swore and hissed, pulling her hand away from the ground so no one else could do the same thing. She stood as best as she could, cradling her aching hand. Pushing through people with one hand pressed between her br**sts to keep someone else from smashing into it wasn’t easy. All it did was cause people to unknowingly smash into other parts of her. She hadn’t made it more than a few feet toward the restroom, and she had already been elbowed in the arm, gotten her foot stepped on, and been drunkenly body slammed, knocking the breath out of her. The club was getting dangerous.
As a space opened in the crowd, she took advantage, rushing forward through the throng of people. It got her closer to the restroom but not close enough.
Then, she felt it—eyes on the back of her head. She didn’t even know how it was possible. Hundreds of people were in the place. No one could be focusing that intently on her, but she could swear that someone was watching her. The feeling crept up her spine, forcing her to move faster. She didn’t know where Amy was, but getting away from this place felt like it made more sense than looking around for her.
Finally bursting off the dance floor, she rushed past the huge line of people waiting for the restroom. They all cussed at her as she passed them by and walked to the front.
“Just checking my hair.” Devon looked over her shoulder and rushed into the restroom before someone could say anything further.
As soon as she walked through the doors, she felt water underneath her heels. As she slid across the floor, she tried to right her balance, but instead, she crashed down on her hands and knees. Devon cried out as pain shot up her arms and legs. Shock hit her like a tidal wave. Her right knee had taken most of the impact, and it was on fire. She was sure that she had broken the skin. Tears rushed to her eyes as the pain hit her full-on.
How can I be so clumsy? she wondered.
Devon wondered if anyone would help her. She wasn’t sure if she could stand by herself. When she dragged her eyes up from the floor, she noticed that she wasn’t in the restroom of the club. She was in a beautiful all white bathroom with a Jacuzzi tub and a walk-in shower. Her heart raced as she took in her surroundings.
“Aww, what did you do to yourself?” the all-too-familiar voice asked.
Her body rattled, Devon slowly stood, using the bathtub as leverage to hoist her up. She felt the blood from her knee trickle down her leg, but she wasn’t going to let that stop her. Without another thought, she sprinted as fast as she could toward her pursuer.
He chuckled and moved out of the way. Then, he approached her and pushed her back with just enough force to send her stumbling toward the snowy white bed. She could have avoided the bed if he hadn’t been at her side. He grasped her wrist, swung her arm behind her back, and pushed her into the bedspread.
She tried to scream through her tears as he all but pulled her arm out of its socket. The pain in her shoulder was so blinding that she bent easily at the waist, forgetting about her hurt knees.
“Let go. Let go. Let go,” she muttered, trying to ease the pain off her shoulder. “Please. Let go.”
“Isn’t this what you want?” the voice asked.
With a chill running through her, she softly said, “Please let go.” She didn’t even know if he could hear her.
A hand came up and fisted in her ponytail, yanking her head back roughly. As he pulled her off the bed by her hair, she squeaked as he tugged some of the strands out. He released some of the tension on her shoulder, but he tightened his grip on her wrist. She was already starting to lose blood circulation in her fingers.
He brought her head back toward him but kept her facing the wall. He whispered in her ear, “You don’t really want me to let go. Do you?” His voice was gruff but seductive.
She felt some her shoulders loosen, but her heart was still racing.
“I don’t want to let go, so I don’t see how you would want me to.”
Devon trembled in his twisted embrace. She tried to clear her mind. She needed to go blank. She needed to forget since she couldn’t stop it or fix it.
This is my fault. Why did I think I could run away? I brought this on myself, she thought.
He lifted her skirt and pushed her back over the bed.
DEVON AWOKE WITH a start as someone shook her shoulder.
“Dev, wake up,” Garrett said, shaking her again.
“I’m awake,” she said hoarsely.
She was having a hard time thinking or even breathing right now. Garrett was hovering over her bed, and he reeked of alcohol. She was glad he had awoken her, but after that dream, the smell of alcohol was the last thing she wanted to wake up to. The nightmares had never gotten that far before. As the reality of what had happened sank into her, she realized she had always woken up terrified before, but now, she wasn’t sweaty or crying or shaky. She felt numb. This whole time, she had been letting her walls crumble all around her, but with the memories of that dream, she had tightly locked it all up again.
“Have you been drinking?” she asked just so he would stop staring at her in the darkness. She needed to compose herself.
“Yeah. It’s the Fourth of July…well, it’s the fifth now,” he said, sitting heavily on the bed.
The covers fell down past her br**sts, which were only covered by her thin nightshirt. His eyes followed the movement, and for once, Devon was glad for the cover of darkness.
She pulled up the sheet. “Why are you back already?” She yawned as she read the clock. Midnight. “Aren’t you supposed to be out with your parents or something?”
“Change of plans.”
She could tell something was wrong by the set of his shoulders. Her brain hadn’t caught up with her body. She had crashed as soon as she had gotten home. Waking up in the middle of the night made her groggy. She couldn’t figure out why he would be home or what could be wrong.
“And you woke me—”
“Come drink with me.” He grabbed her hand and tugged lightly, prodding her out of bed.
Devon yawned. “I’m really not up for a drink.”
“You’re never tired this early.”
“I worked my ass off all day.”
“You can sleep in tomorrow. Come have a drink with me. I brought a bottle back,” he said with a boyish grin, his hand running back through his hair.
Devon sighed and nodded. He wouldn’t be asking if something wasn’t wrong. “Alright. It better not be tequila.”
“Would I do that to you?” He chuckled.
“Only if you hated me.”
“Which I don’t. So, let’s go.” He stood and padded out of the room.
When he left, Devon kicked out her feet from the bed and stood shakily. She couldn’t believe that she was actually going to get out of bed to have a drink right now, and she didn’t want to face why she was doing it. All of it hurt too much.
How long could a person go without sleeping? She would do that if she never had to dream again. Alcohol sounded like a better option than closing her eyes and living that dream all over again.
Still in her nightshirt and sleeping shorts, she slung a cardigan on and walked out into the living room. Crashing down on the couch, she cuddled up with the throw pillow and tried to hold back her yawn.
Garrett walked out of the kitchen with two full shot glasses. He set them on the table next to Devon. She stared at them warily as he walked back into the kitchen. He returned a second time with two whiskey glasses full of a dark brown liquid.
“You weren’t joking,” Devon said.
“Did I sound like I was?” he asked, staring at her.
“Guess not. I’m going to get f**ked up.”
“That’s the point.” He handed her a shot of bourbon.
Garrett held out his glass, and Devon raised hers to meet his.
“To living the life,” he said.
Devon cracked up, thinking how far from that she felt, but when she looked up to his face, she could see the feeling was mutual.
“To living the life,” she repeated, taking the shot back. It burned like a bitch, but she was from Tennessee. She would have gotten nowhere if she didn’t know how to take down a good shot of bourbon.
Garrett slammed the shot glass down on the table. “Fuck that.” He returned to the kitchen and reappeared a second later with an expensive-looking bottle of liquor.
Devon’s eyes widened when she saw the label. She had seen people drink it, but it was usually served neat out of a fancy crystal decanter.
Who did shots off of a two-thousand dollar bottle of scotch? Apparently, they did.
Not being able to help herself, she asked, “Where the f**k did you get that?”
“I told you. I got a bottle.”
“From who?”
“My parents,” he said with a shrug.
“Should we be drinking this?”
“That’s what it’s meant for.” He poured another shot and handed it to her.
She stared at the liquid with a newfound sense of appreciation. Her shot alone was probably worth a couple hundred bucks. As the liquid slid down her throat again, she was glad that she hadn’t choked on it the first time. Were people allowed to choke on really expensive scotch?
When Garrett started pouring another, Devon shook her head.
“No more for me unless you want me throwing up. I need to stagger.” Her head already felt heavy.
He shrugged and took the shot without her.
“So, why are you home?” she asked.
“Got into a fight with my dad,” he admitted. The alcohol was clearly loosening him up some more.
Devon sat up as his head lolled backward.
“Tell me about it.”
“He hates Hadley. He thinks she’s a waste of time and a waste of space. He thinks I can do better. He thinks I stay in the job that he helped me get with no ambition and no motivation to move up in the company. He refuses to see that I hate the job and would do anything to get out of it. But the thought of disappointing him any further kills me,” he said in a rush. “He’s just a selfish bastard who hates his only son.”
Devon didn’t know what to say to that last part. Her parents had expectations for her life. How could they not? But everything they did was out of love. They would never push her so hard that they pushed her away. Even now, when she was lying to them on a daily basis, she never thought that they would try to force her into anything.