Page 9 of Wreckage of My Life
“Will I do?” he smirks at me.
I shake my head in complete confusion. I wonder if he’s mistaking me for someone else. “What are you talking about?”
“Am I good enough for you to fuck?”
The breath catches in my chest, and I press a hand above my breasts to alleviate the pressure. That just seems to bring his eyes to my breasts now, too.
“Who says I want to fuck?” I try to regroup and act tougher than I feel.
“I heard you and your friend talking. You’re here to hook up,” he shrugs like it’s no big deal. “No need to be embarrassed about it,” he grins when he notices the blush taking over my neck and up onto my face. “Fucking is a natural process.”
“Thank you for your blessing on that,” I roll my eyes at him, and he grins again. I am momentarily taken aback by how white and straight his teeth are. That seems to be very unusual given that most of the population here doesn’t have a full mouth of teeth between them.
“So, will I do? Or are you still looking?”
“For your information, mister,” I stick a finger and almost poke him in the chest with it. “I am not here to fuck, as you crudely put it. I don’t want to fuckyouor anybody else here.” I look around with disgust, trying to figure out how to get the hell out of here now that Lena completely ditched me.
“Interesting,” he murmurs in a low tone. “Looks like you’re trying to escape. I’ll walk you to your car,” he stands up from the barstool. My eyes go huge on my face when I see the actual size of him. He did not look this tall and massive when he was sitting down. Now he looks intimidating, and I am a little scared.
“I, uh,” I stutter, unsure of how to get out of this awkward situation. Besides, I don’t have a car to be walked to. Lena wanted to take an Uber, and now I am stuck until she’s done, or I just leave her here and call an Uber myself.
“I won’t hurt you,” his eyes soften up a bit. “If that’s what’s worrying you,” he adds, almost as a second thought.
“Uh, I don’t have a car here. I need to call an Uber. I’m not sure what the address here is.” I start looking around in confusion, like I’m expecting to see the address of this dive plastered on the walls.
“I’ll take you home,” he grabs me by the hand and starts dragging me toward the door.
“What? No!” I pull my hand away from his and am surprised when he actually does let go. “I can’t let you do that. I don’t even know your name. What if you kill me? Or worse?”
“The name’s Wrecker,” he drops back down on the barstool, which puts us more at eye level, and grins. “Does that make you feel better? Can I drive you home now that you know it? Also, what’s worse than being dead?”
“What?” I cross my arms over my chest, and they land right under my breasts, pushing them up a bit. I see this guy’s eyes going right there, and I wish I was flat chested.
“You said I could kill you,or worse. What’s worse?” He’s basically talking to my boobs now. I uncross my arms and pull on my shirt, trying to make it look not as form fitted.
“I don’t know,” I shrug and roll my eyes. “Wouldn’t I be stupid to just leave a dive bar with a sketchy guy I just met? And who names their kid Wrecker? That’s just terrible,” I snort, then realize what I just said. I look at him, but he’s just smiling really big.
“What? You’ve never met a baby Wrecker before?” He is teasing me, and I have a hard time not to smile.
“Can’t say that I have,” I shove my hands in the back pockets of my jean shorts and look at the floor. It really is so gross, I think to myself again. It’s even worse now that I am looking directly at it.
“So, now that you have, do you want me to take you home or not?”
Wrecker’s voice sounds impatient now. He is done with me, and I decide that he really was just trying to be nice. My eyes go around the room, trying to locate Lena. I cringe when I see her wrapped around one of the greasy looking guys she pointed to me earlier, with the other one fondling her from behind. She doesn’t seem to be having any problem with any of it.
“I’m thirty minutes away. Is that okay?” With my mind made up, I look at Wrecker, hoping that his offer is still on the table.
“Sure thing,” he picks up the shot glass that the bartender, slash waitress, had placed in front of him. After he throws it back, he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, and finally stands back up. “Ready? You need to use the bathroom before we go?”
“That’s very considerate, but no.” I am actually shocked that he even thought to ask. On the other hand, I’m sure he knows his way around women, so he’s most likely learned from past experiences.
He grabs my hand again, and I don’t pull it back this time as I let him drag me out of this shothole. I am in awe at how the crowd just parts for him to pass through, with most of the guys nodding hello, and a lot of the women throwing daggers at me. What did I do?
We are finally outside. I pull in a big breath of fresh air, happy that I can feel it again in my lungs.
“Oh, come on, it wasn’t that bad in there,” Wrecker teases me when he notices what I’m doing.
“Do you know how bad that is for your health?” I throw my hand over my shoulder to make a point. “It could kill you.”
