In Between the Lines

Chapter 7: Rules and Revelations

I opened the door and turned on the lights to find an empty bathroom, but I decided to savor the privacy for a moment and shut the door behind me anyway. I took a deep breath as I checked my reflection in the mirror, wondering what the hell was so different about tonight. I looked the same as I usually did, if not worse, tired. My hair was flat and my make-up smudged from the heat of running around the house. Even my clothes were plain, bordering on boring—a pair of loose-fitting jeans and a simple long sleeve.

As I walked out of the bathroom, I bumped into another figure who appeared to be on his way in. I looked up—and this time, I recognized who it was. For once, it wasn't someone from the baseball team but just another person from school. Evan Hamilton.

I only knew him because we had a few classes together, but before he opened his mouth, I already found myself stepping a step back—into the bathroom. He reeked of alcohol and his gaze was glassy, unfocused. Blood-shot.

"Hey, beautiful." Even his smile was distorted, wrong.

"Excuse me." I tried to shove past him, but he held out an arm against the door, blocking my path. He was big, not exactly muscular—but bulky, as if all his muscle was hidden beneath a mild layer of fat.

"Evan, please move."

"Not until you kiss me."

I paused, cocking my head to the side, not entirely surprised by his request—and did something that surprised even me.

I laughed.

As in gut-wrenching, tear-jerking, couldn't-get-any-air-in-my-lungs laughter.

Evan scowled in response.

"Are you kidding me?" I said, wiping at my eyes once my hysteria died off. "What is wrong with everyone tonight?"

"Come on, don't be so mean. Just one kiss, Leee-ruhhhh." He leaned in as he said my name slowly, my name rolling off his tongue in a way that made my knuckles itch to connect with his jaw.

"No. I said move, Evan."

But he didn't. Instead he reache his hand out to grip my hip—and I pivoted just in time. He fell over, losing his already sloppy footing, and hit the wall. I took that opening to pass him and get through the door.

But not before he grabbed onto the back of my shirt and pulled me back.

"What the hell! Let go of me!" I tried to slam him back against the door but he was too big—too strong. His grip on me was like steel. Even when I kicked against him, he didn't seem to be affected, whether it was due to the numbing alcohol or the fact that he'd been built with extra layers. 

Bile rose in my throat as I realized which one of us was going to win this fight.

I felt his nose at my neck, inhaling, breathing me in. "You smell even better than I imagined." One of his hands moved to my waist, pulling me back against him.

Scream. My gut told me to scream, despite the music, despite the loudness of the crowd outside. I had to try. I opened my mouth—

"You have three seconds to get your hands off her, Evan."

Evan froze.

And that voice. That cold, quiet voice—

I turned my head, and there stood Dez, his fists clenched at his sides like unholy weapons. His chest rose and fell slowly, with every forced even breath he took. And his face . . .

My breath caught in my throat.

He didn't just look pissed. No, pissed would have been an understatement.