6. PARIS
VANESSA
I walk out of the crowded bar and take a deep breath of the cool evening air. It’s the end of the August, and finally summer has begun to lose its grip on the weather. I’m a fall girl through and through.
I hoped Ryan wouldn’t follow me, but he comes right out.
“So, that’s it. You’re just going to walk away from me,” he says.
“That was the idea, but it seems you won’t let me do that either.”
“Excuse me for not wanting my girlfriend to spend the weekend in Vegas with a bunch of hoes.”
I whip my face to his. “Hoes? So my cousins and my sister are whores to you?”
Ryan sneers, turning his beautiful-in-a-preppy-way face into an ugly mask. “I’ve seen the way they dress.”
“Unbelievable. You know what, Ryan? I don’t give a fuck what you think. We’re done.”
I stride away, fuming. I can’t believe I wasted six months of my life with this asshole. That’s what I get for breaking my rules about dating. I always swore I wouldn’t date a frat boy because, in my book, they’re all fuckers. Ryan proved me right.
“Don’t you dare walk away from me.”
“Watch me.” Without looking back, I raise my hand and flip him off.
He drove, which sucks, but the bar isn’t far from my place, so I’m fine with walking. I hear Ryan run after me, which I ignore. That is, until he grabs my arm and yanks me back.
“I told you to not walk away from me,” he grits out.
“Let me go!” I try to break free from his grasp, but he sinks his fingers deeper into my arm.
“I don’t think so, sugar. You see, I’m the one who decides when this relationship ends, and I’m not done with you yet.”
He pulls me toward him, snaking his free arm around my waist, and then forces his mouth on me.
I clamp my lips shut as I try to push him off.
I can’t budge him, and that makes me even madder.
I’m not a helpless chick—I should be able to fight him off.
He pushes me against the side of a random car and nudges my legs apart with one thigh.
Fucking hell. Is he seriously assaulting me?
Adrenaline shoots through my veins. I refuse to be the victim. He’s stronger than I am, so I use the only weapon at my disposal. My teeth. I bite his lower lip until I taste blood.
He pulls his head back, touching the cut. “You bit me,” he says, as if he’s surprised.
His body is still blocking me, but there’s a gap between us now, so I use that to my advantage. I shove him back with my free hand, hoping he’ll release me. No such luck. His eyes turn murderous, and in the next second, his hand is wrapped around my neck and he’s choking me.
“You fucking bitch. Who do you think you are?”
“I may be a bitch, but not your bitch, asshole.”
“We’ll see about that.” He squeezes my throat tighter, and then traps my arm between our bodies before he releases my wrist and thrusts his hand up my skirt.
Angry tears gather in my eyes. I can’t scream, and I can’t free my arm to punch the side of his face.
His fingers are already inside of me, rough and invasive.
But the most concerning part is that I can’t breathe, and black dots are forming in my vision.
He’s going to kill me before he has the chance to rape me.
Or maybe that’s his goal—to fuck my corpse.
“Get off her!” someone yells.
Ryan is yanked back in the next second, and as I gasp for air, I see that my savior is none other than Paris.
Ryan staggers back and then tries to punch Paris, but he’s no match for the Rebels’ linebacker. Paris blocks his punch and delivers one of his own, sending Ryan to the ground.
“You asshole! You broke my nose,” Ryan whines a moment later.
“Oh, I plan to break way more than that, motherfucker.” He steps toward him, but I finally snap out of my paralysis and grab the back of Paris’s jacket.
“No. He’s not worth it.” My voice sounds hoarse.
He looks over his shoulder, confusion etched on his face. “He assaulted you.”
His words feel like a punch to my throat. I know what Ryan did, but hearing it out loud gives it more meaning, more weight.
“And he’s going to get what he deserves, but not from you.”
“Say goodbye to football, fucker. I’ll make sure you never play again,” Ryan retorts, already back on his feet.
The fact that he thinks he can issue threats after what he did to me makes my blood boil. I walk around Paris, and before Ryan knows what’s coming for him, I kick his family jewels with all my strength.
He howls, bending forward while he cradles his junk. “You crazy bitch,” he wheezes.
Paris gets between Ryan and me and asks, “Are you okay?”
“I’m shaken, but okay.”
He keeps staring at me as if he wants to peer into my thoughts and check if I’m telling the truth. Finally, he asks, “Do you want to call the cops?”
I’m still riding the anger and adrenaline, yet the idea of rehashing what happened with a bunch of strangers makes me queasy.
Hell, and what about my parents? If the police get involved, they’ll know, and then my entire family will know.
The story will follow me for the rest of my life.
I’ll cease to be Vanessa, the kickass soccer player, and become the Castro girl who was almost raped by her douche ex.
“No,” I say. “Hopefully, I ended his ability to procreate tonight.”
Paris narrows his eyes and clenches his jaw so hard, I can almost hear his teeth grinding together. He’s judging my decision, like he always does. I shouldn’t expect any less from him.
The sound of a car peeling out of the parking lot draws my attention to where Ryan had been a minute ago. The weasel took advantage of our moment of distraction and ran away.
Paris curses under his breath, aggravating me further.
“Why are you upset? I’m the one who was attacked.”
He opens and shuts his mouth without saying a word, and then shakes his head. “I’m not upset, I’m angry as fuck.”
“Me too.” I cross my arms, feeling cold and vulnerable.
It seems the effects of the adrenaline are gone and the reality of what happened tonight has finally sunk in fully.
“I’ll take you home,” he says softly, which only makes matters worse.
I’m on the verge of crying now, but hell if I’ll let the tears fall in front of him. He saved me from a horrible situation tonight, but that hasn’t erased all the occasions he acted like a jerk toward me.
I follow him to his truck in silence, and the nonverbal streak continues all the way to my place.
Only when he parks in front of my house does it dawn on me that I never gave him my address.
I live near campus in a rental my parents got for Heather and me after our freshman year.
Quite a few students rent in this neighborhood, but there are also young families.
Our house isn’t new, and we’ve had a few plumbing issues, but I love that the neighborhood is quiet and safe.
“How do you know where I live?”
“I’ve been here before.”
My brows arch. “You have? When?”
“I don’t know. Last year? Heather threw a party when you were at an away game.”
That information should make me angry again. Heather never told me about any party. We have a deal that parties need to be agreed upon by both of us beforehand. But I’ve spent all my rage, and all that’s left is sadness.
“Well, thanks for giving me a ride home.” I reach for the door handle.
“Are you going to be okay? Is your sister home?”
“I don’t think she’s home, but I’ll be fine,” I lie.
Paris, being the nosy person he is, doesn’t buy my bullshit. “I’ll wait with you until she gets home. You shouldn’t be alone.”
I’d fight him, because he’s not the boss of me, but the truth is, he’s right. I could call Sadie, or any of my other teammates, but then I’d have to tell them what’s wrong, and I don’t want anyone to know. I suppose Paris will have to do.
“Okay. You can come in.”
Tilting his head, he stares at me. “Good. I was expecting you to be difficult.”
“No. I’ve run out of sass.” I get out of the car and don’t wait for Paris to follow me.
By the time I reach the front door, tears are rolling down my cheeks, and I pray he doesn’t see them.