Like Gravity(27)

“Calm down, baby, I’m just messing with you. I know how skittish you can be.” Abruptly, the hands released their hold on me and I fell several feet to the ground, losing my balance and nearly landing face-first on the sticky club floor. One massive hand shot out and caught my arm just in time, halting my descent and hauling me face to face with my assaulter – Gordon O’Brien.

Gordon had been a mistake, one induced by too many tequila shots at a frat party last spring. He was a football player here, supposedly a good one, but I couldn't be sure considering I’d never actually attended a game. One of those guys you could tell had been raised with money and bred to believe in his own superiority, he was good looking in a clean-cut, Ralph Lauren model kind of way. The attraction stopped there.

Gordon was the quintessential jock from every high school movie I’d ever watched and rolled my eyes at – always the first to make fun of the nonconformists who refused to bow down to his clique of followers. If there’d been lockers at college, he would’ve been the one stuffing freshman into them.

He also seemed to have a problem with rejection. After our drunken hookup, I’d fled the scene as quickly as possible. Though he’d tried to contact me numerous times since, I’d always turned down his offers for a repeat performance. Four impossibly long minutes of a sweaty behemoth grunting on top of me had been enough Gordon to last a lifetime, thank you very much. There wasn’t enough tequila in the world to convince me otherwise.

“Aren’t you gonna give me a proper hello?” He said, lips pursed in a seductive expression I’m sure he’d practiced in the mirror.

“Hello, Gordon. Goodbye, Gordon,” I said, spinning around to face a wide-eyed Lexi and my table. I heard the band launch into their first song, a Bon Iver cover I loved.

“Not so fast, Brooklyn.” His hands wrapped around my upper arms tighter this time, with enough force that I knew I’d likely have twin bruises tomorrow. He gradually increased the pressure as he pulled me back against his chest once more, causing my eyes to water in pain. Lexi, recognizing that this situation was more than I could handle, hopped off her stool and made a beeline for the door, no doubt in search of Billy the bouncer.

“Let go of me, *,” I demanded through clenched teeth. My arms were aching and my breaths were getting shallow. I didn’t like to be casually touched by anyone unless I was in control of the situation, and this was far more than I could handle.

“Brooklyn,” he whispered, his mouth in my ear and his rapid breathing hot against my neck. He was excited by this, by hurting me; he was sicker than I’d originally given him credit for. “Why can’t you be nice to me, baby? You were so nice last spring. Don’t you remember?” He shifted suddenly, and I could feel his erection pressing against my lower back.

I looked desperately for Lexi, but didn’t see her anywhere among the crowd. Everyone else in my vicinity seemed conveniently occupied – either too intoxicated, scared, or self-absorbed to get involved. Finn’s voice filled the air around me, singing lyrics about running home and former lovers. I tried to focus on it but all the sounds from the club were quickly dimming. Everything seemed somehow distant now, blurred around the edges. Gordon continued to whisper to me, but it was no longer his voice I heard in my ear. It was another voice, a voice I’d tried to forget for fourteen years.

I’ll f*ckin’ kill her. Don’t you f*ckin’ come any closer or she’s dead.

A gun pressed against my temple. A grip so tight I couldn't breathe. Blood, so much blood. Yelling police officers. Wailing sirens.

Put down your f*ckin’ guns or she’s dead.

I couldn't get a breath into my lungs. Gordon was still talking, but I was long past hearing. My eyes squeezed shut as I tried to make it all go away. Distantly, I thought I heard the abrupt sound of the music cutting off, but I wasn’t sure of anything at that point. My head was spinning from a lack of oxygen.

Then, as suddenly as it had taken hold, Gordon’s grip was simply gone. I crumpled to the floor and didn’t even attempt to stand up this time, knowing I was out of commission. Hearing the unmistakable sound of fists meeting flesh, I lifted my head enough to see Finn straddling Gordon, repeatedly punching his face.

“Don’t you ever f*cking lay your hands on her again.” Finn snarled. Gone was his normally playful grin; he was feral, his brutality fully unleashed on the writhing linebacker beneath him. Though Gordon was bigger by at least thirty pounds, Finn was clearly faster and more skilled.

“You hear me, f*cker? If you so much as think about talking to her again, I swear it’ll be the last thing you ever do.”

Gordon moaned in response, unable to form words.

Abruptly, Finn stopped raining down punches and the rage cleared from his face. He leapt off Gordon, who didn’t look like he’d be getting to his feet anytime soon, and was at my side faster than I’d have thought possible.

His arms hooked beneath my knees and around my shoulders as he scooped me into his arms, not unlike he’d done the first day we met. I immediately turned my head into his shoulder, blocking out the rest of the world as he carried me out of the club.

When we reached a truck in the parking lot, he opened the door and climbed up onto the front bench seat without ever loosening his hold on me. When the door shut behind us, he continued to cradle me in his arms, his mouth pressed into my hair. It was silent except for his occasionally murmurs.