RYAN’S POV

“Bro, youe finally,” Chris said the moment I stepped into the VIP room of his bar. The music was still bpounding /bfrom outside, but in here, it was just him, two girls, and a ridiculous amount of alcohol. The girls were all over him,ughing and kissing his neck, their boobs stered all over his face as if it was their full–time job. There was arge TV on the wall disying every corner of the bar, the cameras covering every spot, including

the dance floorb. /b

I shook his hand and sat beside him, pulling out my phone immediately and checking for any missed message from Anna. Nothing. I didn’t know why I expected one. I’d dropped the spare key exactly where I told her I would, right before I left the house in a hurry. I didn’t want to see her again. I couldn’t trust myself around her. But even now, hourster, I still couldn’t bring myself to go back bhome/b.

Chris had been pestering me to hang out. Said I needed a break. Needed to clear my bhead/bb. /bSo Ie. bThinking /bmaybe, just maybe, if I saw enough skin or flirted enough, something in me would forget how fucking badly 1

wanted her.

He pped his hands, and two girlse in, dressed or rather, barely dressed, in awfully tight lingerie outfits. Everything that was supposed to be covered was on full disy, from their boobs to their thighs. They strutted over to me slowly, swaying their hips, probably thinking they looked sexy, but all I could see was two frogs scratching their bodies, btrying /bto get close to me.

I shot Chris ba /blook. “Really?” I didn’t even bother hiding the bdisdain /bin my voice.

He sighed and told the girls to leave, their faces falling as if someone had dumped wine on them. A few more setse in, each trying to be sexier than thest, but I couldn’t even stare long enough to recognize their faces. To me, they were just like pigs desperate to be touched. All I could think was how wrong they were for even being here.

“Bro, you’re a goner,” Chris shook his head after the sixth group. “You’re bfucking /bhopeless. I’ve tried everything. I brought the cleanest, hottest girls in the whole bar. You couldn’t even bpick /bone. What do you want me to do,. make you a damn doll?”

The two girls with Chris started stripping, making soft noises, but Chris waved them off. “Go wait outside. I’ll bcall /byou when I need byou/b.”

They fixed their clothes and left, leaving Chris and I alone.

“Look, Ryan,” he said, pouring himself a shot. “I bknow /byou’re struggling. It’s written all over your face. You’re dying with blue balls or whatever, and I get it. I really do. But you’re bnot /beven helping yourself. These girls came to do their job and you wouldn’t even look their bway/b.”

“It’s not my fault,” I mumbled, rubbing my temple. “I see them and I feel sick. I can’t even pretend. My dick bwon’t /bget hard. Nothing. It’s like it knows it’s not herb./bb” /b

“Then think about her,” he shrugs. “Think about Anna. Picturing her, using her to get off, might be the only way you don’t go bmad/b. These girls don’t care. You can pretend they’re whoever you want. Use them. Let it out. You need it, bro. You fucking need it. You want me to call the best of them now?”

Before I could even reply, I caught something on the TV. A girl on the dance floor. The way she moved. Her body. Her hair. My heart stopped. It couldn’t be….

+25 bBONUS /b

“Chris,” I said, voice low. “Zoom in. That girl. That one. Zoom.”

“Seen someone you like?” He asked as he picked up the remote, pointed it, and zoomed.

My whole body went stiff.

“Shit, “I cussed. “That’s Anna.”

She was there. She was fucking there. And she didn’t look okay. She was struggling, trying to push some guy off

her.

Chris blinked. “What?”

“FUCK,” I bellowed, shoving the table out of the way as I rushed out of the VIP room. I didn’t care who I passed or if anyone saw me, I was going to kill whoeverid a hand on bher/b.

The second I got to the corner where he had taken her, I saw red.

That motherfucker had her pinned. His hand was up her dress. Her face was red, eyes wide with fear, her hands pushing, her body squirming, and the sick bastard still didn’t stop.

RAGE. Pure fucking rage took over me.

I yanked the bastard off her so hard he hit the bfloor/b. He tried to stand but I wasn’t going to let him. I went for him, punching, not even caring where. His face, his chest, his ribs, and anywhere I could fucking hit. My fist kept connecting, one punch after the other.

“HOW DARE YOU TOUCH HER?” I screamed. “YOU FUCKING TOUCH HER AND THINK YOU CAN WALK AWAYb?/bb” /b

I couldn’t stop. I didn’t want to. My entire body was burning, as if killing him was the only thing that would make the sick, boiling feeling in my chest go away. I didn’t give a damn who sow me or what they thought. Let them record it. Let them post it online. I didn’t care.

I kept punching, only seeing red.

“Ryanb!/b”

I didn’t stop.

“Ryan, STOP!”

Her voice.

I froze.

She jumped in front of me, grabbing bme/bb, /bpulling me back. Her hands were on my chest, her eyes shining with tears, and that was when I came back to my senses. The guy was on the floor, groaning, his face bleeding, barely conscious.

I breathed hard, my heart racing, still ready to fucking murder him, but her touch, her voice, it pulled me back.

My hands dropped.

I looked up at Anna. Her body was shaking. Her dress was messed up, her lip trembling, and all I could think was —this shouldn’t have happened.

I should’ve been there.

She never should’ve bbeen /btouched by another man.

This was my bfault/b.

This was my bfucking /bfault.