Chapter 15
JAMIE
I wake up with a yawn, and promptly gasp at the unexpected jolt of pain that follows. My head is throbbing, my face feeling like someone smashed it against a wall.
Panic squeezes my chest.
Someone had smashed it against a wall. A brick wall. The brick wall in the dirty alley behind the club where Connor tried to—
A wounded sound rises to my throat, as does bile. Afraid I’m gonna be sick, I try to push myself up. Only to find I can’t.
I peel my eyes open, and my heart slams against my sternum.
“Tyler?” I whisper, my brain uselessly trying to comprehend the situation.
The situation being that I’m in Tyler’s room, in Tyler’s bed, in Tyler’s arms. And until a few seconds ago, I must’ve been sleeping on his chest too.
Everything clicks at once, the memories flowing in. Shame slams into me like an avalanche.
Fuck. I called him. And he came. He came for me.
Which means he saw the state I was in as I was hiding in the filthy bathroom of the club.
It took me ages to snap myself out of the shock for long enough to dial Tyler’s number.
I didn’t want him to see me like that, pitiful and disgusting, but I didn’t know who else to call.
I couldn’t imagine forcing my legs to move, let alone to go outside and wait for a cab.
Not when I couldn’t be sure that Connor and his friends wouldn’t be waiting there for me.
I bury my face in Tyler’s chest as the fear settles in my bones.
God, I was so reckless. And so stupid. I knew in my gut something was wrong, but I ignored it. All because I was desperately clinging onto the hope that maybe, just maybe, one stupid date could override everything I felt for Tyler.
Instead, it made it worse. Because when I felt lost and scared, Tyler was the first, the only, person on my mind.
I don’t know if it’s the sound I make, or that I cling onto him too hard, but Tyler stirs. With a groan, he runs a hand over his face before his eyes flutter open. They instantly fix on me, filled with concern.
“Jamie? You’re awake. Are you okay? How are you feeling?”
With each question, he pushes me further onto my back, until I’m flat on the mattress and he’s caging me in, propped on his forearms on either side of me.
Even while seeing the intense worry in his face, all I can think about is how much I love this, this position, being enveloped by him.
I just wish it was under different circumstances.
“I’m okay. Just a little sore.” Especially when I start to talk. My face must be a mess. I reflexively bring my hand to it, brushing against my bottom lip where it feels swollen and tender.
Tyler catches my wrist, expression disapproving. “Don’t. It only stopped bleeding a short while ago.”
“Oh.” I flick my tongue over the spot, tasting sour copper. It doesn’t feel gross or crusty, though. That means…Tyler cleaned me up.
I look down, only now realizing I’m shirtless. “Um…”
“Yeah, sorry about that,” Tyler says, clearing his throat. “Your shirt was torn, and I was worried you might be injured, so I took it off to check.” His gaze returns to my face, and I can see the anger bubbling underneath. “But he mainly went for your face.”
I swallow. I didn’t plan on keeping what happened from him, but now it’s obvious it wouldn’t work even if I tried.
“They.”
He blinks. “What?”
“There were three of them,” I say, calmer than I feel.
Next to my head, Tyler’s hands clench into fists. “Who are they? Do you know their names?” He starts to rise up. “I’m gonna fucking kill them.”
Ignoring the fluttery feeling in my chest—so not the time!—my hand shoots out to grab the front of his shirt.
“Stay. Just…stay with me. Please.”
Tyler’s face goes through about a dozen conflicting emotions, but he eventually relents. He lies down next to me on his side, and I twist to face him.
“Can you tell me what happened? Did they—” His throat works, but he never finishes the sentence. Doesn’t need to.
“No,” I choke out, curling in on myself. There’s a loose thread on one of the pillows, and I pull on it. “I managed to run away.”
Tyler gives a long, shuddering exhale. Slowly, one of his arms winds around my waist, fingers splayed on the small of my back. I gasp at the unexpected contact, but my body arches into it, so starved for touch.
Have I ever been held like this? I can’t remember.
“Tell me,” he prompts again.
“It’s so stupid.” I feel ashamed just talking about it. “I arrived at the restaurant, and it was closed. For renovation, or something. Connor said he’d just got there and found out, said he was sorry for not checking beforehand, and suggested we go somewhere else.”
“Okay…” Tyler says when I trail off. He doesn’t push me, giving me time to gather my thoughts.
“I thought we’d just go to a different restaurant.
” I let out a humorless laugh. “But he pulled up at the club, of all places.” I got so nervous and twitchy.
The only reason I’d gone to clubs before was to…
suck off strangers. I didn’t wanna be reminded of everything I’d done in desperation, not on a freaking date.
On my first real date, no less. “I should’ve said no.
I didn’t really wanna go in, but he pushed, saying it’d be fun, that we could dance and…
” I don’t say that I let myself be swayed, because the idea that someone wasn’t ashamed to be seen with me appealed to me.
“Anyway, we went inside and it was…okay, I guess.”
It was loud, with too many people and smells and flashing lights, and the shot he made me take settled unpleasantly in my empty stomach, but then we danced.
His hands were on me, on my hips, my belly, my chest. At one point, he squeezed me through my pants, and it felt a little scary and rushed.
But it also felt nice to be touched so freely, not avoided like I carried a disease.
When he tipped my head back and kissed me, it wasn’t as mind-blowing as I’d hoped. He tasted of alcohol and cigarettes, and he thrust his tongue in my mouth without care, but…he was kissing me. In front of a crowd of people. I liked that, so I kissed back.
I hesitate before continuing the story. Tyler already knows that I’m clearly careless and stupid, but does he need to know the rest?
“We danced, and I had a bit to drink, and then he…he suggested we get out of there.” I can’t look at him as I say it. “I thought we’d go to his place or a motel or something.”
The truth is, I never planned on having sex on the first date, despite the ambiguous answer I gave Tyler before I left. This was my first real date, I wanted it to mean something. I didn’t want to rush it.
But after being touched like that at the club, and after desperately trying to forget my silly feelings, I figured it might not be the worst idea. Except...
“He pulled me into the alley behind the club.” I let out a watery chuckle.
“I told him I didn’t wanna do it there. He insisted it was more fun and exciting, even though I kept saying no.
” A part of me almost considered it. It’s been so long since I felt full…
really full. But I didn’t want it to happen like that.
“And then, two other guys showed up. His friends.”
The pain in my cheek and lip flares up as I remember being back-handed, then slammed into the wall, face first. How Connor kept me in place with a hand to my neck. How the sound of multiple belts being unbuckled echoed through the alley. And the laughter, mocking and sinister.
“I don’t know what happened exactly; I think someone must’ve come into the alley, because they freaked out, got distracted.
I guess it helped that they all sounded pretty drunk.
So, uh, I managed to kick Connor off and run.
The club seemed like the best choice, because it was full of people and…
yeah. I hid in the bathroom and called you. And you came.”
I force myself to finally look at Tyler, prepared for anything. Judgment, disgust, disbelief.
I’m still not prepared for what I see.
His face has gone hard in a way I’ve never seen before; jaw clenched, eyes dark and furious like a storm breaking just beneath his skin.
There’s raw anger there, but it’s threaded with something that makes my chest ache.
He looks wrecked by what I’ve told him, his eyes uncharacteristically shiny, as though the idea of someone touching me without consent has cut straight through him.
Underneath it all, there’s something fiercely protective, almost feral, as if part of him is already calculating how to keep me safe, how to make sure nothing like that ever happens again.
He looks like someone who wants to tear the world apart because it dared to hurt me.
I should get into dangerous situations more often, I think hysterically.
It’s such a stupid, insensitive thought, but I can’t help it.
Tyler’s been there for me every time I got stuck between a rock and a hard place.
Offering me the room when I had nowhere to go, no one to turn to.
Helping me move when I’ve always done everything on my own.
Waiting for me to give me a ride, so I don’t have to walk in the rain.
Coming to get me at the club even though I’d spent weeks avoiding him. Even though I went and did the exact thing he’d warned me about.
“I’m so sorry, Jamie.” His hand trails up and slides into my hair, stroking it. “I should’ve never let you go alone.”
That gets a small laugh out of me. “What, you gonna be my chaperone from now on? That could get weird.”
Something dangerous flashes across his face. He reaches over to the nightstand and holds his phone out to me.
“Show me his profile.”
Wrong; it’s my phone. I open it and tap on the icon. The app opens, but when I try to access our chat history, it’s not there.
“He deleted it.” Of course he did. Connor is probably not his real name either. I’m not even surprised.
Judging by Tyler’s expression, neither is he. But he’s still very pissed.
“You remember his face, right? We can still report him.”
I let out a sigh, putting the phone aside. “No one will care.”
“Jamie—”
“Tyler,” I stop him. “I get what you’re trying to do.
But it’s not that easy. The police hardly give a fuck when something like this happens to a woman.
They won’t give a shit about a gay guy. Definitely not when I left the club with him willingly.
Which is exactly what the witnesses would tell them, if anyone even noticed us, that is.
They’d tell them they saw us leaving together, after dancing and…
other stuff. There’s no proof.” It sucks, it’s not fair, but it’s the reality.
I don’t have any illusions about where I stand.
Tyler’s outright fuming. I can tell it takes him a lot of effort not to snap. I understand his frustration more than he could ever know.
“He can’t just keep doing this. They can’t keep doing this,” he says.
“I know. There are some forums on Reddit, and other sites. I could post about what happened, make sure other people are aware. And smarter about it than me.”
“This wasn’t your fault,” he’s quick to say, like there’s no doubt about it.
I give another of those strained laughs. “I’m pretty sure it was me who followed him to the club, and then outside.”
“Jamie.” He pulls on my hair. It’s not painful, but it’s unyielding, forcing eye contact.
“This. Wasn’t. Your. Fault.” Each word is deliberate, sharp.
As if he’s trying to imprint them on me.
“Making different choices wouldn’t have changed the fact that he lied to you, didn’t respect it when you said no, and forced you.
That’s not on you. That’s on him, being a disgusting, evil human being. ”
I know he’s talking about Connor and about what happened at the club, but it feels deeper than that. It’s like he’s talking about my whole life, every poor decision I’ve ever made. Every person who made me believe I was the problem.
Something in me finally breaks, the pressure I’ve been carrying for years cracking all at once.
The sound that tears out of me is ugly and helpless and completely beyond my control.
I don’t even realize I’m crying until my vision blurs and my breath stutters.
I’m shaking like my body has decided to betray me too.
Tyler doesn’t hesitate.
He pulls me to him, firm and certain, one arm locked around my shoulders, the other cradling the back of my head. My face presses into his chest, inhaling his scent that has become so familiar. That has become my source of comfort.
My throat burns with everything I’ve never been allowed to say out loud. Shame. Fear. The awful, ingrained certainty that I should have known better, been smarter, stronger.
Tyler holds me through all of it.
He doesn’t tell me to calm down or breathe or stop. I can feel his heart pounding beneath my cheek, fast and furious, like it’s beating for both of us.
“It’s not your fault. None of it is.”
I cry harder at that, because I so badly want it to be true. At the same time, I’m terrified of what it means if it’s true. What if I was never the problem? What if I was never broken? How am I supposed to redefine everything I’ve believed about myself?
I don’t know how long Tyler holds me. It’s long enough for the storm inside me to quiet just enough that I can think again. Long enough that the words he said start to sink in, not sharp anymore, but heavy and real.
When I finally pull back, my face is wet and swollen and my chest aches, but Tyler’s still there, hands steady, eyes soft and fierce at once. And entirely focused on me, like I’m the center of his world.
It’s just wishful thinking, but I want to pretend, just for this moment, that it’s true. That I am the center of his world. That’s okay, right? Pretending for a little bit won’t hurt anyone. Apart from me and my stupid heart, but what’s new?
Yeah, let’s just pretend for a moment.