Page 47 of Angel of Water & Shadow

My worn soles slipped on a loose pile of rocks and skidded out beneath me. The whiplash snapped me out of my spiral, almost doing the same to my neck as my limbs twisted awkwardly to keep me upright. I found my footing just as Shanley glanced over her shoulder and slowed so I could catch up. Her face, alight with excitement as she waited for me, only made me feel worse.

Alright, River, enough.

I agreed to do this. I was here. I would make the best of it.

Returning the grin, I scurried to her side, and we trekked through the brush and gritty outcrops. Shadows from the sheltered cove below rose past the limestone cliffs. We neared the bottom as the thickest part of the overgrowth tapered out, and found the party gathered around a raging bonfire in the middle of the sand.

Fire spinners burned circles into the night that remained on the inside of my eyelids long after I walked away. Couples fled into the natural grottoes, tending to their own budding flames. Some sprawled on the circumference and drew tribal patterns across each other’s chests.

An artist beckoned me over. “Can I paint you?” She was lathered in a palette of reddish clay, the dried texture staining her skin and the tips of her dreads. My eyes traced the moon cycles over her abdomen. A yes ghosted my lips, but as I turned to my host, I realized she wasn’t next to me.

“No thanks,” I quickly said. I trudged around the red Solo cups littering the shore, careful not to let Shanley escape into the sea of bobbing heads—until one of those heads jumped into my path, crouched like a panther, and I lost sight of her anyways.

He broke out in a capricious roar, russet drawings branding his exposed pecs: a motif of animals and crescents. Perspiration beaded the back of my neck, as the swollen muscles in front of me trembled and flexed…just like they had after taking me upstairs at the last party we were at together.

I closed my eyes to escape the visual, but the ale on his breath smelled too much like his vodka aftertaste had. And the salt in the air felt too much like the tears that had streamed down my face, during and after.

When I opened my eyes, the memory faded, but he was unfortunately still standing there.

“We welcome the moon!” Chet Jennings declared.

“Please tell me you’re not a regular here.” He’d already killed the vibe; I didn’t need him taking out my new friendship, too.

“Maybe not, but can’t I appreciate the full moon for what it is?” He stepped closer. “A big, influential mass with a gravitational pull that even you can’t seem to resist.”

Gross, now he was penning metaphors about his dick.

Without a single nod of appreciation to the “lunar” bulge in his pants, I moved to go around his arched silhouette. Brute strength pinned me in place, and his dilated stare pierced me with a feral hunger that morphed his boxy face into a grimace. I wriggled against his grip, but he twisted my arm when I fought.

“What are you doing?” Anger plated my voice. “Let go.”

He sniffed my collarbone. “You look delicious tonight, River.”

His disgusting attempt at flattery snuffed out the confidence I’d built up, and I suddenly felt way too bare in my makeshift crop top. “Don’t touch me.” I used my free hand to push him off, but it had the opposite effect, and he wrenched me closer.

Flush against his rock-hard body, I couldn’t look away as he mocked me with a broad grin. Saliva collected at the corners of his mouth. Frothy, foamy. Gross. “One school away, it’s as far as we’ve always been. And lucky for you, it’s as far as we’ll ever be.” He waved towards the mountains separating us from the valley. “I’ll be at a private university over the hill starting in August. Just one. School. Away.”

“What are you even talking about? You make zero sense.” I tugged to break out of his grasp, but he held my wrists and curved them towards his chest.

“C’mon, let’s kiss and make up.”

“You are sick.” I’d rip those lips off with my own damn teeth before submitting to him. Would have the first time if the shots hadn’t left me nearly immobile, too far gone to say yes or no or slow down or stop. I might’ve even unbuttoned my pants myself—but deep down I knew I hadn’t wanted it. By the time that realization surpassed a slurry rush of emotions, I’d already felt the lubricated condom.

The spacious clearing suddenly felt too tight, like the rock walls were caving in. The sky hung too low, like night was just a painted ceiling and the stars would combust on top of me. I had to get out. There were too many nooks and crannies here, too many sea caves he could pull me into. Where the hell did my plus-one go?

As Shanley’s name left my lips, the grip ripped from my arm and a blurry mass bowled into the party. Sending people scattering as it neared, it knocked already swaying bystanders to their asses like bowling pins.

The wind rustled my lungs. It had all happened so fast. But at least my arm was free, and my captor was huffing on the ground.

Shanley pointed to the whimpering heap in the sand. “Don’t come near her again!”

Chet hissed, swatting at those naïve enough to try and help him to his feet.

I crossed my arms, unable to hide the tremble in my voice. “A little late.”

“I’m so sorry.” Shanley tapped my elbow. “I thought you were right behind me.”

“I was, until I got caught in a drunken mousetrap—” I broke off to duck from a sailing champagne cork. “Clearly we have different meanings for bonfire.” My fingers found their way to my mouth. I chewed nervously. “Out of all the beaches on this sprawling coastline, why does Chet Jennings have to be at this one?!”

---