Chapter 16
SIXTEEN
ANNIKA
Grange is your run-of-the-mill hipster bar.
Dark wood bar-top and metal stools. Pictures of black and white photos of farm animals cover the walls.
I spot Aimee and a few of her other friends at a bar top when I walk in.
They are already all sipping pink, bubbly drinks, and casually talking.
Grange is the go-to place to start bar hopping because it’s on the quieter side, and the drinks are cheaper than other bars.
So we usually get a few drinks here and then pop around to other places.
I head to the bar and quickly flash my fake ID.
Matching pink, bubbly drink in hand, I head over to the table, ready to forget everything that happened this afternoon.
After two drinks, I realize why Chloe and I always say no to Aimee’s invites to bar hopping.
Her roommate and best friend Carly is such a brag.
Even though we shared a dorm with them during Freshman year, I’ve never seemed to warm up to her.
She can’t stop talking about herself. Every time someone talks about a concert or place they went to, Carly is first to jump in with, “Oh, I’ve been there too!
” I find myself rolling my eyes at the sixth long-winded story she tells and nearly planting a kiss on Aimee when she interrupts, suggesting we move on to the next bar.
Carly suggests we hit up Zano next—a dance club.
Of course she does. We get in successfully with our fakes and grab drinks at the bar.
I don’t even know what Aimee ordered me, but it’s electric blue and tastes like four different liquors mixed with pineapple juice.
The music is loud techno music that vibrates my brain with each bass drop.
Carly yells to the group, “Let’s dance, bitches!”
I smile and shake my head, shouting back, “I’ll hang at the bar with our drinks!”
Carly rolls her eyes at me in return and retreats to the middle of the dance floor, where she immediately finds a poor man to gyrate against.
I sip my drink but find myself almost halfway through.
The pineapple juice is scarily good at concealing the bitter alcohol taste.
I take a moment to look around the club.
It is packed with people. I wouldn’t be shocked if the entire population of San Diego was here.
I turn my attention back to the bar and try not to get lightheaded from the music pounding my head.
Or is that this drink that’s making my head throb?
I slip a bit on my stool and adjust so I have one foot on the ground.
I feel a hand on my low back and a hot breath against my neck. I look to my side and see icy eyes glaring down at me.
Trey Roberts
“Hey, you, still falling over me. Look at you, hot as ever.” He snakes his hand so the fingertips dip under my skirt waistband, and I jump.
He laughs at my move and takes it as an invitation to stand closer to me.
How does he manage to swoop at the worst times?
I came here to have a distraction. And that distraction should not be Trey Roberts.
But my tipsy brain is making my weariness blur, and the way his body heat feels against the right side of my body is oddly comforting.
Against my better judgment, I lean over towards him and give him an evil smile.
“I’m surprised you aren’t in jail yet.” I take a long sip from my drink, which only makes the lightness of my head more severe.
He tilts his head back in a laugh and squeezes my hip. “You’ve always been my little pain in the ass, haven’t you?”
He reaches down and caresses my ass before squeezing it a little too hard and leans down to nuzzle my neck.
I can smell whiskey on his breath. I close my eyes as he starts kissing the crook of my neck, reaching his other hand to my waist, pulling me so I’m zipped against his body.
My mind goes blank. I picture I’m elsewhere. Not in a bar, not making out with Trey.
I picture myself on my bed instead, and someone else is kissing my neck.
Someone with warm, green eyes who smells like pine trees.
Trey reaches his hand up from my waist to my hair and pulls my head back abruptly, ripping me out of my fantasy.
He tilts my head so I’m looking at him directly in his eyes.
His eyes terrify me, nothing but evil, and if I stare too long, I’ll be under some spell.
“I’ve wanted you for so long,” he says against my lips, and I feel my soul leave my body.
I’m no longer in control, just floating along.
The alcohol is seeping into my veins, making the room look fuzzy.
It feels like I’m not actually experiencing this but watching from the side.
I’m watching him crash his mouth into mine and jam his tongue against mine.
I try to tell myself to relax and enjoy myself.
An uncomfortably tall, arguably hot man is making out with me.
But I can’t shake the feeling that I shouldn’t be here at all.
And yet I’m not pushing him away because this affection feels better than the lack thereof I’ve experienced for the past year and a half.
I hear Carly in the distance whistle and yell, “Yeah, you go, girl!”
Trey peels himself away from me, and I feel too hot. He whispers in my ear, “Come follow me, sweetheart.”
I don’t remember when I finished my drink, but it’s officially taken over control of my judgment because I push up off the stool and take his hand.
He weaves us through the crowd and into the hall.
He pushes past a line of people and takes me into a bathroom just as someone leaves.
I hear the line of people shouting in a roar.
The bathroom echoes the music from the outside, and my ears are ringing.
I can barely register what Trey is saying to me, but he grabs me, pushes me against the wall, and continues mauling my mouth.
I think I can hear him muttering things like, “You’re so sexy.”
“I want you so badly.”
“I wanna fuck you so hard.”
Before I can react, he flips me around and bends me over the sink.
I hear him unzip his pants. He lifts up my skirt and pushes my thong aside in one quick motion while I feel the pressure between my legs as he stuffs himself into me.
A sharp pain stings through my abdomen as I clutch the sink.
He grabs the back of my hair and starts pounding into me.
It hurts and doesn’t feel right. I try to tell myself to breathe, I try to tell myself to enjoy this, but I just start looking at the stickers around the mirror, hoping he will stop before I read them all.
I reach down to rub myself hoping to stimulate myself, but he yanks my arms back while he plows harder into me.
He is pulling my arms back, using them as tethers to ram into me harder.
The pain is gone. I feel nothing now. I just feel numb.
I finish looking at the stickers and look in the mirror at Trey’s reflection.
His ice-blue eyes look evil as he’s looking down my back.
He squeezes and jackhammers into me, grunting and cursing under his breath.
I can’t meet my own eyes in the mirror, so instead, I look directly at the light above it.
Blinding my vision until I see black spots.
Maybe I’m hallucinating about this whole situation. When will I wake up?
After what feels like hours but was probably five minutes, I feel Trey pull out of me suddenly and grunt while I feel a hot stream hitting my thigh.
He mumbles something and then leaves the bathroom.
No goodbye kiss. Not checking if I finished.
No cleaning up the mess he made on me. He leaves me bent over some grimy bar sink with my skirt halfway up my torso and my thong stretched and torn around my legs.
It takes me a moment, but somehow I get up and wash my leg off and use the bathroom.
I feel like I’m on autopilot, steering myself outside of my body to just get out of the bathroom.
I pull out my phone and make a reminder to get Plan B and an STD test at the university clinic tomorrow.
There is still a line of people outside of the bathroom.
Some try to give me a high-five, while others just glare at me like I’m the nastiest thing they’ve ever seen.
I get to the main floor, and somehow the number of people in the club has doubled.
I don’t see Aimee and Carly anywhere. But I see Trey.
He’s at the bar, leaning into another girl’s neck like he didn’t just fuck me less than a minute ago and leave himself dripping down my leg.
I push my way through and reach the night air.
The cold air hits me like a punch to the gut.
I start walking. I pass people laughing and talking on the sidewalk all around me, but I’ve never felt more alone.
I feel wetness hit my chest and think it’s raining.
But when I look up at the clear night sky, I realize I’m crying.
I walk down the sidewalk, sobbing. All my insecurities ruminate in my mind.
Who am I? Where did I go? Why did I put myself in this situation?
I need better. I need anything better than this. How can I get better than this?
Well, figure it out. Reid’s last message echoes in my brain, and I lean against a wall crumbling in my tears. Well, figure it out, Annika. I need to figure it out.
I lower to a squat and press my phone to my ear. Chloe, can you come pick me up?...No, I’m not okay…I’m in North Park near Zano.---Please hurry. I can’t be alone right now.