The music is playing, the sun has gone down and I am standing at the rail of Chris' second-floor deck, hoping to keep out of the center of activity. Having kept this spot for over an hour, sipping my drink, I feel certain I can manage to stay here for the remainder of the night.
Their open flirtation, hip gyrating and spit swapping is enough to drive me crazy. I've never been with people like this, people so... Hollywood cliché. I feel like I'm in a nighttime soap opera, the OC or some other ridiculous series.
Chris sidles up next to Ashley, drapes his arm across her shoulders and swallows her whole. Jeez. Get a room. He releases her and wraps his arms around one of the single girls, nuzzling into her neck. My eyes go straight to Ashley, and I'm surprised to discover she has moved on too. Then again... no, I'm not surprised. It's just what I expected. It's exactly what I was worried about, coming here.
Having my theory confirmed, I look around for some distraction, something that will help me escape when 'my turn' comes around, since I know I can't really keep out of it all night. I spot a pitcher of water sitting on the table across the deck. Every time the group shifts towards me, I contemplate making a move - away. What am I doing here?
Chris loosens his grip on the girl, and a sick feeling comes over me. I can feel it. I'm next. It occurs to me that he's been waiting all night – weeks maybe – to make his move. I head straight for the water, turning my back to the group to hide my apprehension, my breath hitched in my throat.
Chris' body presses into my back and, instantly, his warm, wet mouth is gently sucking my neck, just below my ear. The cup slips from my hand, clinking as it crashes to the table and spills.
“Oh my god, I'm sorry!” I say, flustered, not sure why I'm apologizing. I twist around, push him away and head for the door to get a towel ...to escape.
“It's okay. It's just water,” Chris says, stopping me with his hand on my upper arm.
I turn around to meet his smiling face, drink in one hand, me in the other.
“Relax,” he says, pulling me closer.
I free myself, glance at the others over his shoulder then back at him. “I should go.”
“Don't be stupid. It's still early.” He steps towards me again, reaching for my waist.
I side-step him and back into the table. He grabs my forearm and tugs me forcefully towards him, a bit of irritation showing on his face. The feel of his hand around my arm, the force of his pull, sends me back to my living room, Bosley's hand on my arm, a gun in my face. My heart pounds furiously as fear surges through me. I shove Chris hard. He fumbles backwards into his friends and I make a run for the stairs, heading down to the sand. I keep running a few hundred yards towards the water, sobbing, afraid and embarrassed.
I drop down at the edge of the dry sand and bury my face in my hands, still crying. The last few days I spent at home with Bosley come whirling through my mind like a tornado. For the first time since it happened, I am gripped with fear, shaking internally. The gun in my face, Bosley's forcefulness, imprisoned in my own house, followed to Wethersfield... Denial has vanished. Reality is set in. I am on the run for my life.
“Hey,” Chris says, walking up next to where I sit. I hadn't heard him approach over the sound of the waves, and, being on edge, I'm startled to my feet.
Backing away, I wipe the tears from my face. I wish he would just leave me alone.
“Relax,” he says, holding up his hands. “I won't touch you.”
This is awful. I don't want him to see me like this. I don't want him to know me like this. I turn away and cry silently while trying to regain my composure.
“I didn't know,” Chris said from very close behind me.
I stiffen up, then turn to face him. “You didn't know what?”
“I didn't know you'd react like that. I was just ...kissing you.”
I scowl in confusion, Bosley still on my mind. Then I realize he knows nothing about Bosley. He's here about the kiss.
“Everyone here is like this,” he explains.
“Cheaters?” I say.
“It was just a kiss.”
“You're married.”
“So?” He turns toward the water and sits down, propping his beer up in the sand next to him.
I remain standing, looking down at him, brows still deep in a scowl.
“Look, Mollie, -” He looks up at me and sighs. “Will you sit down for a minute?”
I do, facing him to keep a distance between us and to keep my eye on him.
“Ashley and I are confident in our marriage. We just like to have a little fun.”
I sit quietly though my heart is still pounding. I don't have time for this. I have a new life to figure out. And, thinking back to Damian and Myra, I know for sure I never would have ...traded. I loved Bosley too much to risk it, even if I was confident he felt the same about me.
A breeze picks up, forming goose bumps on my arms. I dare not rub them or Chris might get closer.
“Haven't you ever kissed anyone besides your husband?” he says, looking sideways at me.
“No.” Not of my own will anyway.
“Are you serious?”
I stare at him. Is he serious?
He stares back for a moment, his brain working on ...something. “Where is your husband anyway?” he says.
What? My pulse explodes once again. Rising tension threatens to blow me to bits. My body stands up of its own accord. I hear myself speak but don't know where it's coming from. “I need to go. It's late.”
The sand seems to fall away from my feet, making it impossible to walk away. I can't get away fast enough. I feel like he knows, like he's aware of my past, knows my real name, knows my husband is after me. My chest tightens, my face tingles and I begin to sink, gasping for air. I'm aware of Chris' hands on me, holding me up at first, then fully supporting me, carrying me in fact. All I can do is hang on.
Beyond the blur, when the world stops spinning, I see Ashley going in and out of silhouette, the kitchen light bright behind her. My face is wet and she's shifting a cloth over my forehead. I feel heavy.
“Are you okay?” she says, squatting down next to me.
I realize I'm on the living room sofa.
“Chris?” Ashley yells towards the hallway. Chris enters a moment later.
“Feeling better?” he says, standing over me. “I've never seen anyone go so pail before.”
“What happened?” I manage to say, realizing my throat is extremely dry.
“I was going to ask you that,” Chris says. “You scared the crap out of me.”
I've never experienced anything like it. I swing my legs to one side and attempt to sit up. My head feels like there's an elephant sitting on it. It wobbles on my neck until I slouch back, falling to one side.
“Whoa,” Ashley says, grabbing my shoulders to steady me.
“Just lay down,” Chris says, placing my feet back up on the sofa. “Ashley, get her a pillow from the spare room and a blanket.” He looks back at me, one hand on my thigh. “You're not going anywhere.”
What? No. I can't stay here. I can't. Adrenaline kicks in and I'm upright again in an instant.
“I need to go,” I say, though I'm certain I can't ride my bike like this.
“No, you need to lay down,” Chris says, pressing my shoulders to keep me from standing up.
“No, really, Chris. I need to go.” My pulse is racing again, face tingling like it did before. My eyes can't seem to focus on anything. I'm so weak but I must get out! I feel trapped.
“Mollie, relax. You're not going anywhere.”
~~ Should Ana/Mollie stay the night or press him to bring her home? ~~
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