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We rearrange things to make room for the food and plates. I’m thankful for the distraction. I turn away from the stranger and angle toward Addison as we talk and eat. She scoots her stool down a few inches when I confess that the guy next to me is making me uncomfortable. But he continues to press his shoulder into my back occasionally as he chats and drinks with his friends.
The restaurant is crowded, and the bar area is buzzing by the time we finish eating. Every stool is taken, and people are standing two and three deep behind our seats.
“I need to use the little girls’ room,” I say, leaning closer to Addison so she can hear me.
She nods while placing the remaining pizza slices into a to-go container.
I rise and weave my way through the people until I reach the restroom. I use the facilities after a small wait and open the door leading back into the hallway. It’s empty when I exit, but the guy who was sitting next to me at the bar rounds the corner before I’ve left the space.
“Hey,” he slurs, leering at me. His smile is slow and creepy.
“Excuse me,” I say, trying to sidestep him.
He mirrors my movements, stepping in front and cutting me off. The stranger is either terrible at reading body language, or too inebriated to care.
I glare up at him, unimpressed by his aggressiveness. “Let me by.”
He ignores me while crowding me against the wall with his bigger body. I can hear the noise of ambient conversations from the restaurant, but we’re alone in this space. When he reaches up to brush my hair back, I bristle, realizing I’m trapped and isolated.
I push against his chest, but he traps my hands there with one of his, pushing me further into the wall.
“You’re really pretty.”
His breath is stale against my cheek when I turn my face away. I glance at the women’s room, willing someone to come out.
“Let me go,” I plead, starting to panic when he moves even closer.
I tense and hold my breath. His chest is wide and solid. He’s like a brick wall leaning into me. His erection presses against my lower stomach.
Suddenly, I can breathe again as his body is ripped from mine. I see dirty-blond hair tumbling across a forehead before I register that Sam’s here. He tosses the man against the wall with a thud as I step away. Sam glares at the guy menacingly and pins his neck with his forearm.
“Did you not hear her say to let her go?” Sam growls.
But the guy can’t answer because his air is cut off. He’s choking.
“Learn to read body language, asshole.”
“Sam,” I say, touching his side, but he’s lost in a fog of rage. “Sam,” I repeat, louder this time, while gripping a piece of his shirt.
His nostrils are flaring, and his eyes are narrowed to slits. “If you touch her again against her will … I’ll end you.” It’s a threat and a promise.
After another second, Sam lowers his arm and steps back, his muscles still flexing in anticipation of retaliation. But the man hunches over while coughing, lowering his hands to his knees as he gasps for air.
Sam turns to me and grasps my forearm as he pulls me forward. “Let’s go.”
I exhale deeply and walk in front of Sam, allowing him to be a physical barrier between the stranger and me. His hand is warm and comforting, and he’s surprisingly gentle.
“Thanks,” I say, looking up into his stormy gray eyes as we walk around the corner. The noise level rises. “The guy was just drunk.”
“Don’t do that,” Sam demands. He’s still on edge, his jaw grinding in between words. “Don’t make excuses for that asshole.”
And he’s right. There’s no justification for a man to put his hands on an unwilling woman, intoxicated or not. I shouldn’t minimize it.
I glance around, sighing when I don’t see Addison in her seat at the bar. After the altercation in the hallway, I just want to leave.
“Cruz and the guys are walking Addison back to the hotel,” Sam explains, noticing me searching the space. “I said I would grab you. Good thing I did.”
“Yeah, I wasn’t expecting to get groped in the restroom hallway.” I laugh, but I’m still shaking. That guy scared me, but I don’t want to admit it to Sam.
