****WARNING**** This chapter may be triggering for some as it contains talk of sexual abuse/harassment/assault. Feel free to skip over those parts and enjoy the rest of the chapter. Sorry in advance to anyone affected.

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"I thought you were taking me to Dylan's party?" I say between sips of vodka that we've been passing back and forth. "This doesn't look like Dylan's house, maybe we shouldn't have let you drive," I hiccup and chuckle.

"I specifically remember telling you that I was taking you to a party, I never said which one," Tommy laughs, taking the bottle from my hands and downing the last bit in one big gulp. He tosses the bottle in the back seat turns to face me.

"What about all our friends? They're expecting us," I pout.

"Sara Tover if you think I ever believed that you were at those parties for the social interaction then you're an idiot. You hate people," he laughs.

"I do not! You don't know anything about me Tommy Graymore," I say his full name because he said mine and I liked the way it sounded, but I'm not supposed to.

"That's where you're wrong, baby. We've known each other since we were three and if I remember correctly we were friends once upon a time. I know everything about you."

"That was a long time ago. Maybe I've changed." I shrug. The alcohol is coursing through me, giving me more confidence than I have, and even though I know I've put myself in a bad situation, I'm determined to do better this time. I have to prove to myself that I can outsmart him.

He stares at me, his blue eyes illuminated by the light above us so that his irises look like they're dancing. The small smile on his face makes me forget how vile of a person he is and my mind instead replaces him with the sweet, lanky boy I used to love. Pre-high school Tommy, who didn't have the confidence to look at a girl, let alone flirt with one. The boy who used to give me a bag of M&M's every Valentine's Day, flowers every birthday and a mixed CD every Christmas. The boy who volunteered his time at the Senior Centre playing games and making arts & crafts. The boy I used to feel totally at ease with, free to be unapologetically myself, safe.

But that boy got his heart broken by a mother who didn't love him enough to take him with her when she fled his abusive, drunk of a father, who wouldn't tolerate having a weak, skinny boy for a son. It was only a matter of time before sweet little Tommy turned into this muscular-football-playing-kickboxing-champion man, with looks that would make even the gods jealous. As the muscles got bigger, so did the confidence and the popularity followed. Though I could never-would never- use this sob story as an excuse for any of his actions, I can't say that I don't understand it. But understanding and forgiving and two very different things. I think it's that ghost of a boy that I miss that let me get in the car in the first place, no matter how back of an idea it was.

The truth is he probably knows me very well, just as I do him, and that scares me more than anything. So when he finally opens his mouth to speak, I brace myself.

"You have changed. That was never a question, but you're still you. And I know you, Sara." He brings his hand up slowly and tucks a strand of hair behind my ears. Maybe it's the alcohol or the version of the old him still playing in my head, but I let him. "I know that crowds make you anxious, so you hide in the outskirts, a proper wallflower. You love your family more than anything and you're 10x more protective than Evan but you show it more subtly. Which is why you'd rather be at home spending time with them than ever be at a stupid party."

"Hmm. So why do I even bother going to parties then?"

"That's easy; to get drunk enough to forget that when you go home tonight your Dad won't be there waiting up to make sure you made it home safe and the fact that your mom no longer cares enough to take over that role."

"Shut up."

He raises his hands in surrender and moves back just the slightest. "Hey, you've got no judgement coming from me. We're the same, you and me. We don't drink to have fun, but sometimes I think you forget that the reasons we drink are much more dangerous, Sare-Bear."

"Don't fucking call me that," I seethe.

"C'mon, we've got a party to go to. It's a frat party, you'll love it."

With that, he exits the car and before I have the chance to change my mind, he's opening my door and pulling me out.

"I don't know about this, Tommy. I don't know anyone here," I say, shrinking back from the house looming in front of us. The ground is littered with cups and half-empty drinks, I can practically see the house shaking from the bass of the music that's blasting somewhere inside.

"That's the whole fucking point, Sara! They don't know you either, so you can be whoever you want to be tonight. Just you and me," he reaches out his hand, a wicked smile on his face but there's something like hope in his eyes.

I weigh my options for a minute. I have no way of getting home unless I call an UBER or my brother, neither of which are options that I'm willing to choose. I don't know where I am so I can't exactly walk. If I call Tessa she'll freak out about the fact that I'm even at a party, let alone with Tommy, which I don't have the energy to deal with right now. And then there's the promise of a night of no expectations, of getting drunk with no judgement. It's more than what I was hoping to do tonight and I have to admit it sounds very appealing. So with great reluctance, I take his outstretched hand and let him guide me into the house.

The second we walk in we're immediately greeted by various college boys, all coming up to Tommy and slapping him on the back and eyeing me up and down, lingering on my chest. Most of them just greet him as "T" or "T-dog", and I raise my eyebrow at him in question but he just shrugs and gives me an innocent smile.

"Yo T! You made it," A floppy blond haired-boy with the most amazing green eyes I've ever seen comes over with a cup in each hand, impressively not spilling on his white shirt as he pushes through the crowd. Once he reaches us he hands one of the cups to Tommy and greets him with a side hug. "Just when I thought this party was going to be lame, you show up and prove me right."

"You wound me, Kyle," Tommy laughs. His hand is still locked in mine and when I try to pull away he tightens his grip, which makes my stomach churn. I need a drink.

The boy, Kyle chooses this moment to acknowledge my presence, his eyes doing a double-take, before lingering on my exposed skin. "Shit T, you gonna introduce me to this gorgeous lady you're hiding or do I have to do it myself?"

"Eyes up you dick," Tommy glares and Kyle places his hands in the air feigning innocence. "This is Sara, the love of my life."

I nearly choke on my own saliva and whip my head to look at him so fast I'm surprised I don't get whiplash. When he winks at me in return, I remember that we're supposed to be different people, but this is not the part I wanted to play.

"Well shit dude, you got it bad. Nice to meet you, Sara, I'm Kyle, president of this frat, anything you need, just let me know. The keg is for party-goers, hard liquor and bottled beers are for frat members only, but since you're Tommy's girl you can drink whatever you like."

With that he backs into the crowd, disappearing in an instant and I look at Tommy waiting for him to explain.

"They have an underground fight club. One of the organizers saw a kickboxing match of mine and invited me to come to watch a couple of fights. Then watching turned into fighting, which ended up with me being undefeated. That title gets you things around here," he says it so nonchalantly, like being champion of an illegal fight club at the local college is no big deal and I'm trying to wrap my head around it.

"I need a drink. A strong one." I say and he leads me in the direction of the alcohol. Off to the side, lined up behind an actual bar is a variety of liquors ranging in brand and price.

"Take your pick," he says and boosts me over the counter so that I'm behind the bar. I stare at the options in front of me for a minute before deciding on a bottle of whiskey that's not exactly cheap, but not too expensive either.

"What do you think you're doing?" a voice calls from off to the side.

When I turn around I see a girl in a skimpy black dress that barely covers her breasts and definitely doesn't cover her butt fully. I raise an eyebrow at her, "What?"

She gestures to the bottle in my hand, "That belongs to the frat, the keg is for guests."

"Is that what they told you? Ouch," I say with just the right amount of sweetness and bitchiness in my voice.

"I told her to grab it," Tommy pipes up from behind me, placing a hand on my lower back and looking at the girl with total disinterest.

"Oh, Tommy hi. I didn't know you were here," she says trying to fix her hair and placing a sultry look on her face.

"Well now you do," he says dismissively and turns to look at me, "ready to go, baby?"

"Definitely."

~~~~~~~

College parties are fucking awesome. When Tommy and I returned to the living room, the bottle of whiskey in hand, one of the boys bet me $20 that I wouldn't take a shot straight from the bottle without chasing it with something else. I took three shots: one to win the bet, one to prove a point, and one because it was good fucking whiskey. Easiest $20 I ever made. When Tommy and I became the reigning beer pong champs, many of the boys professed their undying love for me and were subsequently threatened by Tommy if they even laid a hand on me. If he was any other guy, I would've been swooning over him, but his protectiveness is starting to feel possessive and every time he touches me, no matter how innocent the gesture, my skin burns.

We're sitting on a stained leather couch that if I were sober I'd probably stay 10 feet away from, but right now it's comfy and I'm content. Tommy shifts close to me, one arm draped across my shoulders, the other fiddling with the tops of my boots. I move to scoot away from him but I'm already at the end. So my eyes travel around the room, desperate to meet the eyes of someone, anyone, who will understand my discomfort and rescue me. No such luck.

Across the room, my eyes spot a boy who seems simultaneously out of place and totally in his element. It's such a strange paradox that I can't even begin to explain it. He's leaning against the wall, obviously not wanting to be a part of the large party but he seems so relaxed talking to a couple of other guys. He's got floppy black hair that's not exactly curly, but I wouldn't call it straight. Kind of messy but styled that way on purpose. Every now and then he'll shift his head in a way that lets the light reflect off the tiny black stud in his eyebrow. There's a sleeve of tattoos all the way down his left arm but only a single one on his right. The all-black outfit he sports makes him blend into the background and I don't know what it is about him, but I have to know him. His eyes flicker towards mine, meeting them for just a second before he goes back to his conversation, and I cast my eyes down in disappointment, but every once in a while his gaze floats over to me.

Tommy's hand has started moving back and forth over the small stretch of skin between the top of my boots and the bottom of my dress, the feeling makes me physically ill and my mind starts flashing back to that last party. To him on top of me, of me being helpless, his hands moving hungrily up my body as if he owns me. It finally hits me that I've made a huge mistake. I should never have come here with him, I should never have gone within 50 feet of him. I should've reported him that night. I don't know who I'm trying to fool by pretending it didn't happen, but I need to face reality and I need to get the hell away from here.

I grasp his wandering hand in mine to still it and then remove it from my leg altogether placing it in his own lap. I move to stand but his arm around me halts me in place.

"Where do you think you're going baby?" he says and I want to throw up.

"I'm not your baby and I'm thinking it's time for me to go. I've had enough pretending for one night."

"I thought you were having fun?"

"I was and now I'm tired and I'd like to go home."

"We could have some more fun." his voice drops low, trying to sound seductive and his hand starts moving towards my leg again.

"Don't touch me."

"C'mon Sara, don't be a tease."

His hand makes its way between my thighs, his lips trailing sloppy kisses down my neck and I am desperate, pleading for someone to see this. My prayers are met when the paradox boy from earlier meets my eyes and then travels to where I'm gripping Tommy's hand to stop it from travelling any further than it already has. My other hand is still holding a drink but I'm shaking so hard it's a miracle nothing spills out. His expression darkens and he makes his way over.

"Tommy stop." I plead but he ignores me.

"Hey dick, the lady asked you to stop."

At the sound of the stranger's voice Tommy looks up but he doesn't release me from his grip. If anything he holds tighter and I wince hoping it doesn't bruise.

"Mind your own business, man," Tommy says, his voice tinged with irritation.

"No, I don't think I will. She asked you to stop and she's clearly uncomfortable so why don't you let her go?" Paradox boy says calmly.

"Don't tell me how my girlfriend is feeling. She's fine, everything's fine here." he turns to face me, a devilish grin spreads across his face, "Let's go have some fun, it'll be just like last time."

His words are what finally cause me to explode, my rage from earlier in the day finally breaking through the surface. "No, it won't be like last time. Last time I was too drunk to fight you off and I'm never making that mistake again. So let me make myself fucking clear. Let me go before you do something you'll regret." I throw my drink in his face for good measure which causes him to release me and I immediately jump up, scooting behind my rescuer.

Tommy jumps up too, wiping the whisky from his eyes and he looks at me with a murderous glare. "You're a little bitch Sara, just like your mother."

"C'mon." Paradox boy nods his head and leads me outside the house.

The cold air hits me like a truck and I realize just how drunk I really am. The world is spinning slightly and my head feels heavy. I want to throw up but I think that has more to do with what just happened more than the alcohol. I take a couple of deep breaths but the air feels too heavy like I can't get a full breath. I'm an idiot for putting myself in that situation, knowing full well what he was capable of. I wasn't asking for it the first time, but this time I might as well have been. I take a seat on the cool grass and put my head in my hands.

"Are you alright?" My rescuer asks, taking a seat next to me.

"Yeah. Thank you for saving me. He's an ass."

"Definitely. Is he really your boyfriend?"

"Oh god no. No, we used to be friends. Truthfully I don't even know why I was with him tonight." I lift my head to meet his eyes and I allow myself a minute to get lost in them before focusing on our conversation. From far away you wouldn't notice it, but up close I can see that his eyes are 2 different shades of brown. His left eye is a dark chocolate type, solid, while his right eye is much lighter with a thin ring of darkness at the very outer edge. It's mesmerizing.

"I haven't had a single drink tonight, I swear on my parents' lives, so I could give you a ride home if you need. Or I could wait here while we call someone to come get you?"

I almost smile at his kindness when I remember that the only person I really have to call is Evan, and if he sees me like this or learns what happened it'll just be one more burden for him to carry. Despite my best efforts, the tears come spilling down my face. The boy gets a startled look on his face and I scramble to explain that it's not his fault.

"I can't call anyone, my brother can not see me like this. I've caused him enough problems already."

"Hey no it's alright, we can just hang out for a bit then."

"God I'm such an idiot I didn't mean to cry."

"Don't apologize truly, it's all good. C'mon, let's go sober you up. I know a good coffee place."

He stands and reaches his hand out to help me up which I take gratefully. "Thanks. Hey, it just occurred to me that I never asked your name."

"It's Sebastian, but you can call me Baz."

~~~~~~~

"I didn't know this place was open this late."

It's nearly 1 am and we're sitting in a quiet corner of Deja Brew, a steaming cup of coffee warming my freezing hands. Going to my brother's place of work while avoiding him; the irony is not lost on me. Baz is quiet, sitting across from me and I can't tell if that's for my benefit or if that's just how he is.

"Only on Fridays, to sober up drunk college kids and teenage damsels in distress," he jokes.

"How'd you know I was a teenager?" I raise my eyebrows at him.

In response he just pointed to my phone lying facedown on the tabletop, the case displaying the infamous logo of my high school and I blush flooded with embarrassment.

"I was joking by the way."

"About what?"

"The whole damsel in distress thing. You can clearly take care of yourself, evident by the perfectly executed drink in the face. Well done, by the way, that was badass"

I just smile shyly in response. "So why Baz for a nickname?"

"When I was a kid I was terribly shy. Like, hide behind your mom's legs shy. She used to joke that Bashful must be my favourite of the Seven Dwarfs and then people just started calling me Bashful as a joke since the sound "bash" is literally in my name and then as I got older it turned into Baz. I don't know, I like it." he gives me a wistful smile, fiddling with the handle of his coffee mug.

"I think I quite like Bash better," I tease.

"Oh really?"

"Yeah, it sounds more charming."

"Fine then. You can call me Bash, but I swear to god you're the only one." He gives me a stern look and I can't help but laugh.

"I'm honoured."

We sit in silence a while longer, finishing our coffees. I can't tell what he's thinking and it's driving me crazy.

"Can I ask you something?" he says, not quite looking at me.

"I guess so."

"You don't have to answer."

"Well jeez, now I'm nervous." I chuckle.

"That guy at the party. You said last time you were too drunk to fight him off. Does that mean what I think it means?"

I feel as if the air is being sucked out of the room. I look directly at him, willing him to look me in the eyes, but they blur at the edge with tears that are fighting to spill over. I take a breath and clasp my hands on the table in front of me. He finally meets my eyes.

"Umm..." I start but it's shaky.

"I'm sorry I shouldn't have asked." He retreats.

"No it's fine, I just haven't really talked about it to anyone. Like ever." I take a second to compose myself, to choose my words carefully enough that I won't break. "A couple of months ago, there was a party at his house, and I shouldn't have gone, but my dad had just died and I was having a hard time. I just wanted to forget for a night as stupid as that sounds." He reaches over to grasp my clasped hands, not saying anything but reassuring me that he was listening. "I had a lot to drink, too much, and Tommy and I used to be really good friends, so I thought that maybe for one night we could pretend that nothing had changed. So we drank and drank and when he started leading me up the stairs to his room I didn't even realize what was happening. And when I did put it together, I froze. I couldn't find the strength to tell him no or to even scream. When it was over he just threw my clothes back at me and told me to join him back down at the party."

I didn't. I got dressed and I ran home as fast as I could but no one was there. Evan was still living in the dorms, Josh was at Ben's and even if mom was home she probably would've been just as drunk. I had no one to tell, so I got in the shower and cried, letting the water burn away any trace of that night. I threw my clothes in the trash and I cried for days but everyone just assumed it was due to the grief of losing my father. No one knew, and I never talked.

"I was so afraid of him. So afraid that I changed my class schedule to avoid him, and I hated that he made me feel powerless. I just wanted to prove to myself that I could be in control. That's why I went with him tonight. To prove to myself that he couldn't hurt me. Instead, I basically opened the door for him to do it again. I'm so stupid." The tears are flowing down my cheeks in rivers now, but I make no move to wipe them away.

"You're not stupid Sara. That night wasn't your fault, and tonight wasn't your fault either. Sure maybe you made a dumb decision, but that doesn't give him permission to be a fucking predator. I'm so sorry that happened to you."

I turn my hand over so that it's holding his and I've never been more grateful to have someone touch me at this moment. "You're the first person I've ever told. Not my mom or my friends. Definitely not my older brother."

"Sometimes telling a stranger is easier. We don't know you well enough to judge." he shrugs.

"Thanks, Bash," I say and his eyes narrow a bit at the nickname. The clock on the wall says it's almost 2 am and I didn't realize how late it'd gotten but now I can feel the exhaustion wash over me. "It's late. I should text my brother to come to get me."

"Probably a good idea," he chuckles.

I pull out my phone and send Evan a few quick messages telling him where I am and asking politely for a ride. I'm hoping he's awake and not too pissed that I went to a college party and that he has to pick me up from his place of work. I snort at the thought.

"What?" Bash says.

"Sorry. It's just that my brother works here, so he'll probably not be too thrilled that he has to come here to get me."

He jerks up a little, recognition in his eyes. "Evan's your brother?"

"Yeah, you know him?"

"Yeah. I work here too. Now that you've said it I totally see it. You two could be twins."

"I know," I sigh, a little disappointed that Bash probably knows a lot more about me if he's friends with Evan.

"Oh fuck," Bash says suddenly.

"What?" I say alarmed.

"Evan's your brother," his face pales a bit. "He's going to kill me when he finds me with his little sister at 2 in the morning after I met her at a college party."

I can't help but laugh and it feels really good. He's not wrong either. Evan is totally an overprotective brother trope. I kind of feel bad for dragging Bash into my mess now. Then something else hits me. "Please don't tell Evan about Tommy. Not about what happened tonight and especially not about what happened months ago. Please."

"Nooooo I'm the worst at keeping secrets, Sara! I won't be able to look him in the eyes."

"Just for a little while. Just until I can tell him myself. I just have to find the right time. Please." I beg, grabbing his hand and squeezing it with all my strength. "Please Bash."

He looks at me for a while and finally relents. "Fine. Only for you."

I release a breath and let the tension flow out of my body. I'm exhausted and all I want is to crawl into bed and sleep the whole weekend away. It's been 20 minutes and Evan hasn't responded to my messages but I'm going to pass out right here at this table. Across from me, Bash yawns, looking as tired as I feel.

"I don't think he's awake. Why don't you crash on my couch and I'll keep trying your brother so that when he does wake up he doesn't completely lose his mind."

"That sounds perfect."