So I order another one and chug it down.
That’s when a man comes to sit next to me, smiling awkwardly as he orders a beer.
“Hey,” he says.
“Hi.”
“How you doing?”
“Fine.”
I try not to engage, but he keeps talking.
“You look like you’re having a shitty time,” he says.
“Uh-huh.”
“Let me order a drink for you.” He beckons the bartender. “Another appletini for the lady over here.”
The bartender pours me another one, and I thank him for it, as well as the man beside me, but really, I just want him to shut up.
“So where you from?” he asks.
“Sorry, but I’m here to just be alone for a while. No offense.”
“Oh, wow, settle down, girl. No need to get angry.”
I side-eye him. “I’m not angry. I just wanna be left alone. Thanks for the drink, though.”
“Sure.” He makes a face. “Take a drink from a man and then act like that. Classy.”
“I never said I was, and I never asked for a drink.” I scoot it across the bar to him. “Here, you drink it.”
“No thanks,” he says, shoving it back so hard, it spills on my shirt.
“Hey! Fuck,” I growl, swiping away the alcohol. “Goddammit.”
“Sorry. Maybe you should’ve just been nice,” he says, and I give him the stink-eye.
I hop off my stool and go into the bathroom to grab some tissues I can dry my shirt with, but it’s not much help. When I try to leave the bathroom, the guy’s suddenly in my face.
“Need some help with that?”
“No, I’m good.” I try to pass him, but he places his hand on the wall next to me, trapping me inside. “Please …”
“Please what? You know, it wouldn’t hurt you to be thankful for a drink.”
“A drink that you spilled all over my shirt? Gee, thanks.” I raise a brow at him. “Can you please move?”
“No, not until you tell me your name.”
“I don’t wanna tell you my name. I’m not interested. Do I have to spell it out for you?”
“Oh, c’mon …” He grabs my wrist, which is when I pull back.
“Don’t touch me.”
“What’s your problem?” He makes a face. “Stop acting like you’re not interested. I know you don’t have a boyfriend. Why else would you come to this bar alone?”
“That’s none of your fucking business. Now, let me through.” Each time I try to pass him, he shoves me back into the bathroom, until the door closes behind us and I’m left alone with a man twice my size.
“Get. Out,” I growl.
“Or what?” He laughs, stepping closer.
I quickly rummage through my purse and take out the pepper spray my mom told me to carry. “Or I’ll use this.”
“Ooh … and I’m supposed to be scared of that?” He shakes his head.
Out of fear that something will happen, I also grab my phone and speed-dial Thomas. It’s the first number I pass after …
“Come here.” The guy suddenly steps forward and reaches for my hand.
“Get off me!” I yell as we fight over the can of pepper spray.
Meanwhile, I hear Thomas’s voice shouting in the back. “Hailey? Hailey?”
“Thomas! Help!” I scream, and in the heat of the moment, I still somehow manage to tell him which bar I’m at. A second later, the guy shoves me so hard I fall to the ground.
“Bitch,” he says, spitting on the floor. “You want to use fucking pepper spray on me?”
“Stay away!” I say, crawling backward.
“Fuck that.” He throws the can far away in a corner, and his eyes zoom in on me. “I give you a nice cocktail for free, and this is the thanks I get? I should’ve earned a kiss at least, but with you acting like this … I earn way more than just that.”
“No!” I yell, kicking as he comes closer. I try to make him lose his balance, but when he has me by the throat, I’m no match. “C’mon then, a little kiss for the trouble and I might let you go.”
When his lips inch closer, I muster all my strength and punch him in the side, causing him to buck and heave.
“Fucking bitch.” He coughs, almost choking on his own breath. “You fucking punched me.”
I use the last bit of strength to kick him in the head, making him topple over on his back, and then I land another kick right to his balls.
He yowls like a fucking wolf, and I use the time he spends cupping his lady-bits to make a run for the door. Too bad he’s grabbed my foot halfway there.
“You’re not going anywhere.”
“Let me go!” I yell. “You fucking asshole!”
“Asshole? Me? You’re the asshole,” he growls, trying to pull me back.
I kick him again. “Do you always put your hands on girls without their permission?”
“If they’re asking for it, yeah.” He tries to crawl on top of me, but I keep kicking him, trying to fend him off. His nose is bleeding because of it, and the blood is pouring onto my pants.