A Night to Forget (16 page)

***

Later that night, I met Mike downstairs at the hotel bar. His eyes lit up when he saw me. I had on a simple top and jeans. He looked the same as I last saw him, yet he seemed like a stranger to me. We hugged and found a quiet table at the far end of the bar.

“Emma, you look amazing!” he exclaimed.

“Thanks, Mike.”

“So, how are you? How’s living in San Francisco?”

“I’m really good, and SF has been a lot of fun.”

“Yeah, I love that city. I was thinking of visiting next month for a long weekend. I’ve love to see you when I’m there,” he said as he gave me his most charming smile.

I wasn’t sure how to respond. I’m not sure why, but I knew that I didn’t want Mike in my new life after college. Luckily, before I could respond, a waitress arrived at her table to take our drink orders.

“So how’s D.C.?” I asked as the waitress left, diverting the conversation away from his potential visit.

“It’s been pretty awesome. I’ve been working on several important bills that will be introduced to Congress in next couple of months, and have been meeting a lot of influential people every day.”

For the next hour, Mike excitedly summed up everything that he’s been doing in D.C. and everyone he has met through his internship. I sat there quietly and nodded, grateful that I didn’t have to speak.

Finally, after several drinks, Mike stopped his monolog and looked at me. “So are you dating anyone?”

His question caught me off guard. I didn’t expect him to stop talking about himself, and certainty didn’t expect him to ask me that question. “I—I—No, I’m not,” I finally stammered out.

Then I saw a devious gleam in his eyes and he smiled at me. “So, you’re still a virgin then.” He said it as a statement and not a question.

“Um,” I paused, unsure of what to say. I couldn’t very well say “yes,” but I also wasn’t prepared to tell him that I had slept with someone else a week after we broke me.

Even through his intoxicated haze, Mike caught my hesitation. “You’re
not
a virgin?” Anger and outrage glinted in his eyes, and for a second I felt my body tense up in fear.
Emma, calm down. You’ve known Mike for over a year. It makes sense that he’s upset, but there’s nothing to worry about. It’s Mike.

I shook my head lightly to answer his question.

“When? Who?” he asked.

“It’s not important,” I said, trying avoid the question.

“The hell it’s not,” he snapped. “We had been going out over a year and we only broke up six months ago?”

“Eight,” I corrected him.

“Whatever. My point is, you jumped into bed with another person in less time than I had waited patiently for you. And, shit, you’re single, so you’re not even with that lucky fucker.”

I remained silent and looked at my drink.

“How could you?” he asked and I heard the indignation in his voice.

“I’m sorry,” I managed to say.

There was a long period of silence.

“Mike,” I began. “I’m sorry, but I’m getting tired. It’s been a really long day and I have an early flight to catch.” I got up to go, but Mike stopped me.

“Emma, stop. I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Please sit my back down. I don’t know what came over me.”

I slowly sat back down, wishing that I was anywhere but here.

“I guess I’m just shocked. You can understand that right?”

I said nothing.

“I mean, we were together for so long and we were perfect together. And I respected your need to wait before having sex. So to hear that you slept with someone else that isn’t even your boyfriend—I’m sorry, I just flipped out a little. I’m sorry.” Mike grabbed my hands with his, “Please forgive me,” he plead.

“Okay,” I said softly. “But I really should go to bed.”

“Sure, let me close out our tab.”

Chapter
14

Mike walked me back to my room after our drinks. I could tell he had drank a little more than he should have because by the time we got to my room, he had his arms around me. I sighed in relief when we finally got to the door of my room and that I could call it a night.

“And here’s my room,” I motioned as we stopped at my hotel room door. I fished out my keycard, slid it through the cardkey slot, and opened my door. I walked through my door before turning back to Mike.

“Mike, I had a nice time catching up. Thanks for reaching out. Have a good—”

“Babe, I’m not ready to say goodnight yet,” Mike slurred, interrupting me. He moved forward and turned the door latch over so that the door would not close against the frame completely. Instinctively, I felt my body stiffen and pinpricks of panic began to creep its way through my body.

“I know, but I’m really tired, Mike,” I tried to reason.

Mike leaned against the door frame and blocked me from closing the door on him. “I still want to hang out a little. I’m not sure when I’ll see you again.” Then Mike walked through the door, pushing me inside and allowing the door to swing shut behind him. Before I could protest, he grabbed me and began to kiss me violently.

“Mike,” I cried, “Mike, please
stop.”

He didn’t stop. His lips and tongue moved against my lips with force and desperation. He shuffled me down the hallway and onto my bed, pinning me down against the bed.

I felt tears roll down my face as fear paralyzed me from fighting back. I felt his hands frantically rubbing against my blouse and down behind my thighs. I felt his fingers against my jeans, pushing up between my inner thighs. My body screamed against his touch.

“Mike,” I choked out, “What—what are you doing? What are you doing?”

“What do you think, baby,” Mike murmured against my ears. I could feel his hot breath against my cheeks and smell the strong stench of alcohol from his breath. “Now that you’re no longer a virgin, I’m going to show you a good time, and make you cry out my name and beg for more.”

“Don’t do this, Mike. You’re just drunk! You don’t want to do this,” I begged. My mind was hysterically screaming at myself to fight back. Finally, I felt my body break out of the initial paralyzing shock and I tried to push Mike off me. “Stop Mike! Please stop! You don’t want to do this!,” I cried through my tears.

“But I do want to do this, Emma. I’ve wanted to fuck you since the day I met you, and you know what they say, ‘good things come to those who wait,’ and we both know how very long I’ve waited for this moment.”

Mike grabbed both of my hands and pinned them
against my chest with one hand while his other hand ripped the blouse off me to reveal my bra. He then unbuttoned and unzipped my jeans and pulled them down to my ankles. I tried to kick him and wiggle my body away from him, but he was too strong. He successfully pinned me down with his hands as I felt his fingers move down my body—first circling my exposed breast and then down between my inner thighs. I felt his fingers run down between my inner thighs against my panties and I heard myself scream in agony.
This couldn’t be happening. Please let me die before this happens
, I begged silently. I closed my eyes, feeling myself giving up the fight.

Then, I felt as if a weight was lifted off me, and for a second, I thought my prayers were answered and I did die. But then, I heard his voice through the thick fog that surrounded my thoughts. “Emma?” he said. “Emma? Can you hear me? Please open your eyes. I need you to be okay.”
Was that him? Was it really possible that it was him?

It was.
My eyes fluttered open and Brandon’s gorgeous face stared down at me. I started crying again the second I realized it was him. He covered me with a towel and held me close to him as I heard him call the front desk. I saw Mike’s body unconscious on the floor with blood on his face, and the sight of him made me flinch.

The next 30 minutes passed in a blur. Two police officers showed up and took Mike away after Brandon told them what he saw. He convinced them that I was not in a state to give my statement tonight and that
he’d bring me in tomorrow morning to give it.

After the police left, Brandon carried me in my towel to his room when I told him that I didn’t want to stay in my room. He gently sat me against the head of the bed and sat down next to me, holding me against his chest.

“Everything will be okay, Emma. I won’t let anything bad happen to you. Ever again.” I felt him hold me tighter against him and I felt a sense of relief wash through me. Brandon made me feel safe and protected.

“Please don’t leave me,” I begged.

“I won’t,” he whispered softly in my ear. “I don’t know what I would have done if he—if I didn’t get there when I did. I’m just sorry I didn’t get there sooner.”

“How—how did you get in?” I asked in confusion.

“The door latch had the door ajar, and I heard you screaming from my room.”

“This feels like
de ja vu
,” I muttered to myself.

“What do you mean
by that?” Brandon asked. I looked up at him and concern filled his eyes.

I paused before answering, trying to decide if I should tell him.
Emma, this is your chance. He just saved you from being raped, he deserved to know
.

“Can I tell you something, Brandon?” I asked hesitantly as I looked up at him.

“Yes, of course. You can tell me anything,” he said as he held me closer.

“Well, remember
when I mentioned during our lunch that I started volunteering at SFWAR?”

“Yes,” Brandon said.

“Well I volunteer there because … because, in many ways, the cause is personal to me.” I paused. There was silence, and I looked up at him. I saw his eyes flicker from confusion to understanding as he realized what I was suggesting.

“Were you raped before this, Emma?” There was a sharp undertone of anger in Brandon’s concerned voice. “Was it that guy tonight?”

“No, no it’s not like that,” I cut in. “And no, It wasn’t him and I wasn’t raped. Well, it almost happened, but—”

I paused and thought about what I wanted to say next. I decided not to tell Brandon about my mom, and only told him the story of what happened to me almost four years ago that night during freshman year. The memory of that night would always stay vivid in mind as one of my worst nights of my life. That was the night John—my then boyfriend—forced himself on top of me, broke my jaw, and almost raped me.

I met John at a frat party freshman year. He was a charmer and all the girls seemed to want him. I was impressionable then and was flattered when John noticed me that night and asked me out. After two weeks of dating, I trusted him and thought he was a nice guy. Then at a house party one night, he pulled me into one of the bedrooms to make out. He was drunk and high on ecstasy. After a few minutes, he started to get really rough on me. He had ripped my clothes off, and I begged him to stop. But instead of stopping, He forced his hands all over me—on my breasts, in between my inner thighs, and inside me. I remembered crying and screaming for him to stop. But he didn’t listen. Instead, he tried to shut me up and he punched me several times in my face and knocked me unconscious. When I came to, I was in a hospital room with a broken jaw, five stitches, and a number of severe bruises. Luckily for me, someone had walked in on us and saw me covered in blood, passed out, and naked while John was undressing himself. They had immediately called 911. John was arrested and charged with assault and attempted rape, and I was hospitalized for a week.

During my entire story, Brandon remaine
d quiet and focused, showing a mixture of concern and rage in his eyes. By the time I finished, I realized that my whole body was shaking and tears were rolling down my face. Brandon pulled me closer to him and held me with both arms as I cried in his embrace.

“I’m sorry.” I finally said, wiping the tears from my eyes.

“Why are you apologizing?”

“It’s just been four years since that night, and I should be over it.”

“
Emma, that was a traumatic experience, and you just had to almost go through that again. That’s not something you can easily get over. You have every right to still be upset over it. I just wish I could make that pain go away. I wish that had never happened to you.”

Brandon’s hand brushed through my wavy, blonde locks as he held my face against his chest. We stayed in that position
for a long period of time, and I felt my body slowly relaxing.

Finally, I looked up at him and whispered, “Thank you for being you.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, thank you for listening to me and understanding. I haven’t always received this kind of understanding from men.”

He kissed me on my forehead—his lips were firm and soft against my skin. “Thank you for sharing that story with me,” he whispered back. “I’m sure it wasn’t an easy one to tell, and I feel honored that you could trust me with that piece of your past.”

I looked up to meet his eyes.
“Thank you for saving me tonight.” Impulsively, I leaned up towards him and kissed him. He kissed me back. Our kiss was soft, sweet, and emotional.

After a few minutes, I pulled away, wanting to honor his request to take things slow. “Thank you for being a good friend.”