60. Chapter 60
Chapter 60
Charlotte
‘ H ello, Charlie.’
I stared as a familiar blonde head of hair emerged from the shadows.
‘Charlotte,’ I corrected, habitually. ‘What are you doing back here, Ben?’
‘Me?’ He straightened from where he’d been leaning against the wall. ‘I was just waiting for someone.’
I nodded and took a step to the right, making to step past him, but Ben mirrored my movements, blocking me off. I let out a huff of annoyance; one I immediately regretted as my next inhalation was tinged with a slick spicy-sweetness. My nose crinkled in distaste as I stepped backwards, away from the rum-scented cloud that surrounded the man in front of me.
‘How are you, Ben?’ I hoped that whomever he was waiting for would appear soon and that I could slip past, but until then, I’d probably need to be civil.
‘Me?’ Ben held a hand to his chest, looking around in a way that if sober, could have been seen as playfully endearing, but the alcohol that he’d had with dinner must’ve caught up with him, because when he swivelled his head to look for whoever else I could be referring to, his whole body swung. ‘Oh, I’m fine, Charlie.’ He widened his stance, finding his balance on his widely spread feet. ‘Surprised to see you here, is all.’
‘Why?’ I forced an unaffected tone, folding my arms in front of my chest and raising a brow. ‘It’s a firm event, after all.’
Ben let out a low chuckle, one that had a panicked pulse thrumming below the surface of my skin, but when he took a step towards me and realised he had to look up to meet my gaze—my choice in heels tonight had given me a few inches on him—that glimmer of amusement that had flickered in his eyes died.
‘You’ve never come to one before.’
‘I don’t think that drinks at The White Horse qualify as firm events, Ben.’ I looked back towards the restroom doors, searching in vain for anyone else who could draw his attention.
‘I dunno, Charlie.’ His voice grew louder as he stepped closer. ‘Karl seems to think they’re important.’
My head snapped back around.
‘You spoke to Karl about it,’ I whispered, more to myself than to him.
‘Might have mentioned it.’ Ben shrugged, the corners of his mouth tipping upwards in a self-satisfied smirk.
‘Why? Why would you do that?’ I asked incredulously, raking a hand through my hair. ‘You know what he’s like.’
‘Where’s your boyfriend, Charlie?’
‘What?’ I frowned.
‘Your boyfriend .’ Ben drew out the word, moving closer to me as he spoke. ‘Where’s Aiden?’ he sneered.
‘Not here.’ I asked, taking another small step backwards.
‘Why not?’ Ben asked, his lips twisted into a smile and his head quirked to one side as he took another step towards me.
I cowered away from that smile, feeling suddenly like a mouse in a trap. My eyes darted along the corridor and the unsettled feeling in my stomach begged me to move and get out of here.
‘Have a drink with me, Charlie,’ Ben purred, raising the back of his hand as if he were going to lift it to my face.
Flinching, I jerked out of his reach.
‘I think you’ve had enough to drink, don’t you?’ I winced at the tremor in my voice but forced my spine straight as I tightened the grip on my clutch.
‘Have a drink with me,’ he crooned, ‘and I’ll let Karl know what a team player you are.’
‘No.’
‘Go on, Charlie, you may as well,’ he taunted. ‘Or who knows what I’ll tell him?’
‘Excuse me?’ I blinked, my mouth gaping.
This could not be happening.
‘You heard me.’
I watched in horror as Ben’s wet, pink tongue slipped out of his mouth and glided across his upper teeth.
‘Enough,’ I said sharply, all trace of the tremor driven from my voice by my growing disgust for the man in front of me.
But it was like he hadn’t heard me. He just continued towards me; his gaze so focused on my body that he missed the way my lip curled in disdain.
Enough of this—I was done being polite.
Refusing to allow him to back me into a corner, I stepped out of his path and turned toward the party. I’d barely taken my eyes off him when I felt his fingers latch on to my wrist, holding onto me in a punishing grip.
With a forceful tug on my arm, he pulled me back and, tripping over my heels, I fell back against the wall. Ben wasted no time in flattening his body against mine, his sweaty hand fisting in my hair as he jerked my head down and rammed his mouth against mine, his tongue running against the seam of my lips, fighting for entry.
Twisting away from him, I shoved at his chest.
‘Get off me!’
My throat constricted, bile and panic rising in my chest as he slathered my neck with wet, sloppy kisses. Eyes wide and desperate, I searched the hallway for someone or something to help me.
My fingers fluttered at the sight of the empty hallway, and it was only my long dormant reflexes that stopped me from dropping my purse. My purse!
Screwing my eyes shut, I raised the clutch in my hand and brought it down forcefully on Ben’s shoulder, beating the back of his head with the tiny beaded bag. Ben staggered back in surprise. But that was all I needed to regain my footing and smash the shell of the clutch against his jaw.
‘You fucking tease!’ Ben stumbled backwards, clutching at his now bleeding lip, glaring at me.
‘Get the hell away from me,’ I gasped, not daring to take my eyes off him as I felt behind my back for the handle of the bathroom door. Once my fingers encircled the cool metal knob, I twisted it and ran inside. I scurried into one of the stalls, locking it behind me and resting against the closed door, my heart hammering against my chest.
I heaved a shuddering breath as the adrenaline receded and was replaced by an all too familiar sense of panic. Sinking down to my haunches, I hugged my knees to my chest and let my head thud back against the bathroom door. I needed to get out. I needed to go home.
I reached out a hand, hoping to steady myself to stand, but when my eyes followed the path of my palm, I saw how my fingers trembled in the air and eventually against the wall. My soft curse of frustration was swallowed by the silence of the bathroom.
I bit down on my lip, wincing at the pain but quietly grateful when I tasted the metallic tang of blood. A strange sort of coolness had settled over my neck, and I lifted a hand to touch the spot, my stomach roiling when I felt the damp traces of saliva that marked my skin. Heaving, I lunged for the toilet, flipping the lid just in time for my meagre dinner to force its way up my throat.
Eyes streaming, I clutched the toilet seat until my stomach stopped spasming. And then, sinking to the floor, I pulled at the toilet paper dispenser, scrubbing at my skin until a dry rawness replaced the sensation of his touch.
I tried to focus, to control my panicked breathing as I trembled in my spot on the floor. But panic spread throughout my body, tightening its hold on my chest and restricting my heartbeats. I opened my mouth, attempting to gulp in lungfuls of air, but all that I could manage were short, panting gasps.
It wasn’t working.
Instead of breaking through the surface of my anxiety, I only seemed to be pulled deeper into its black waters. I screwed my eyes shut and took a shallow breath. Three counts in. Five counts out.
Not working. Not working. Not working.
My eyes darted frantically around the small cubicle as I struggled to catch my breath. I lifted a trembling hand and laid it flat against the wooden door, ignoring the sound of my own ragged breathing as I tried to focus on what I could feel.
Wood. Tile. Shoes too tight. Scratch of my dresses’ label on my ribs. Stubby, sweating fingers on my wrist—Stop it. I screwed my eyes shut and smacked the heel of my hand against my forehead.
Not working. Not working. Not working.
Trembling, I dropped my head into my hands as I tried to focus on my breathing. I couldn’t hear any noise coming from beyond the bathroom. My world was silent. I could only hear myself. My breathing. My panic.
Too quiet. Too quiet.
Pressing my palms to my eyes, I was surprised and disappointed to feel the wetness on my cheeks.
I’d ruined my makeup.
A strangled laugh clawed its way up my throat, and I took a ragged breath, the small dose of oxygen stuttering through my lungs.
Feeling my thoughts spiral, I jerked my hands away from my face, splaying my fingers palm up in my lap. My eyes burned, and I tilted my head backwards, refusing to ruin my makeup any more than I had already.
They won’t notice. No one will notice.
‘It’s fine,’ I whispered softly. ‘You’re fine.’ Lies.
I raised a trembling hand to cover my mouth as my eyes fluttered closed, as a single tear tracked a mark down my cheek.