Page 8 of See You Maybe

“It’s gone.”

The group exchanged glances. “How about we’ll have someone call you a cab?”

But Olivia’s moment of lucidity was sliding away again, and her stomach rolled. Was she going to throw up?

“Where are you staying?” a woman with a turquoise bob and heavy eyeliner asked.

Olivia pulled her room key out of her purse and held it up in front of her. Someone took it from her, and she felt the cold plastic of the card against her skin as someone tucked it past her high neckline and into her bra.

“Found your phone, luv.” The woman laughed, and Olivia reached up to pat her chest.

Yes, that’s right. She put her phone in her bra. “What’s your room number?” The voice was no nonsense, and Olivia responded without conscious thought.

“303.” Something cool brushed over her arm.

“What’s your name, doll?”

“Olivia Rose.” She gagged, the words slurring before she got her last name out. Why did she give them her full name?

The stroking on her arm moved faster before the hand holding her forearm let go. “There you go, Rose.”

“Excuse me,” Olivia sprinted for the bathrooms, the line thankfully gone.

After getting sick, Olivia splashed water on her face, holding her cheeks and trying to make her face come into focus in the tiny mirror. She slumped against the wall and closed her eyes. Thumping on the outer door roused her.

What are you doing, Olivia? Don’t you dare black out in a foreign country. You need to get back to your hotel. Find everyone tomorrow.

Olivia yanked the door open to the angry face of a young woman, who shoved her out of the way and headed for a stall. “Can’t lock everyone else out,” the woman groused.

Thankfully Olivia spotted a chair tucked into an alcove at the back of the hallway.

I’ll just sit for a few minutes, sober up, and then I’ll get a cab, she told herself, sinking down and hooking her purse on the back of the chair.

Someone kicked her chair, waking her.

“You’re alive. Thought ya might be dead.” The young man laughed. Another man behind the first slapped him on the shoulder. The only detail she could discern, as the large male figures loomed over her, was that they both wore striped, long-sleeved polo shirts.

“C’mon. We’ll buy you a drink.”

“No. I’m good, thanks.” Olivia wasn’t sure if the words were clear enough.

They laughed, and then firm hands pulled her to her feet practically carrying her to the bar. Her feet refused to obey her brain’s commands. When the two men ordered shots, Olivia shook her head and tried to step away, but one stood close behind her, pressing her up against the bar. He reeked of whiskey, and her stomach rolled.

Oh god, she was going to be sick again. Olivia put her hands on the bar and tried to push back to free herself, but a hand came to her hip, biting in as she heard the man argue with the bartender.

“Nah, mate. She’s fine. We’re friends.”

The bartender continued to argue with them, but Olivia was more concerned that she was about to throw up on the bar. “Gonna be sick.”

“Fuck off, mate. She’s done,” the bartender barked.

“Wanker,” the man pinning her said, and then hands were spinning her, which didn’t help her stomach.

“Is that your hotel room?” Someone pulled at her, and fingers brushed against the skin of her inner forearm. “Don’t worry, we’ll get you home.” The hand that held her upright slid lower, and then slipped under her skirt brushing against her ass.

“No!” Olivia twisted away, but somehow they were at the door. Through the haze, her instincts screamed at her to get away.

“You’re all goo—” The words cut off, and he was ripped away, causing her to stumble backward. He flew to the side, and Olivia saw his friend step forward and throw a punch. Then it felt like all hell broke loose, as several of the men nearby were all too willing to jump into a fight after a night of drinking.

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