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“I guess he gave you something other than a good time,” she snickers, then wanders off with a cart of books to reshelve.

I spend the rest of the day thinking about what this could mean and if he’s the reason for it.

After being on my feet all day, I dread the walk home and decide to take the bus. As I get on the final one for the day, I notice it’s after five and check my phone to make sure I didn’t miss Cato’s call. When I don’t see anything from him, I’m deflated and sit near the back, leaning my head against the window. A group of young men gets on the bus shortly afterwards, and just as we leave the station, they all take seats surrounding me.

I know without anything being said that I’m about to become their target. I’ve spent most of my life picking out bullies, and I’m not surprised when one of them, the leader, I assume, slips from the seat a row across from me and into mine. I knew I should have walked.

“Where you headed, sweetheart?” I’m sure his smooth delivery works on other girls, but I’m not interested.

“H-h-home,” I mutter, hating that the stutter is back and wishing Cato would call already. Maybe this guy’d leave me alone if he knew I had a man checking up on me.

“Where’s home?” I raise an eyebrow, giving him an “are you crazy” look. As if I’m about to tell him that. “Come on, baby, don’t be shy. I don’t bite.” His buddies laugh at his lame joke.

Turning away, I try to ignore them. The one in front of me takes offense to my silent brush-off and reaches back to grab my chin roughly. His surprisingly long nails dig into my skin and scratch me.

“Don’t be a bitch, girl. My friend just wants to get to know his next piece of ass.” His glassy eyes make it apparent he’s high. I don’t respond; I wait until he releases me, then wipe his touch off my face. “You cunt!” The backhand comes harder than I anticipate.

The driver slams on the brakes, making the guy slide onto the floor and smack his shoulder off the other seat. Cursing, he balls his hands into fists as he slowly gets up. “Learn to drive, bitch!” he shouts at the woman up front.

She grabs her cell phone and places a quick call. I hope it’s to have these guys kicked off. I still have another twenty minutes before my stop, then it’s another few minutes’ walk to my apartment.

“Where were we?” the first guy says as he turns to me, leaning his body into mine. His breath brushes my face as I cringe away from him.

“G-g-get away f-f-from m-me.” Clenching my jaw, I curse that damn stutter.

He and his friends imitate me while laughing in my face. When the driver slams the brakes again, my phone rings, and I pull it out to see Chelsea’s name flashing on the screen. Despite my current situation, disappointment pangs inside my chest.

Holding my purse close, I get up, fight my way through the group of men causing trouble, and move closer to the driver. The woman looks equal parts concerned and angry.

“Help is on the way,” she whispers. “Just stay right there.”

I can only nod as I peer from the corner of my eye while they huddle together, throwing looks my way. They’re planning something. I’ve been around enough men who think they deserve things from women to know that as soon as I get off this bus, they’ll follow me.

My phone rings again, and assuming it’s Chelsea, I mutter out, “Can you pick me up, Chels?”

“Not Chels, but I will.” Cato’s voice stuns me into silence. “I’m sorry I’m late calling, pretty girl. I had some things to take care of that took longer than expected.”

“C-c-cato?” I can’t believe it’s him. What terrible timing.

“Yeah, kitten, I’m here. Where do you need me to pick you up?” Keys jingle in the background.

Spotting motion from my harassers, I stand up and move closer to the driver. “I-I’m on the b-b-bus.” They imitate me again.

“Who the fuck is that?” Cato growls.

“N-n-nobody,” I whisper, trying to make myself smaller.

“Hester, don’t fucking lie to me.” His shout is loud enough that the driver raises her brow at me. “Who the fuck was that?”

I sigh as the men get closer, still taunting me.

“J-j-just some row-d-d-dy b-boys.” Will this nightmare ever end?

“Where are you?” Tires squeal as he takes off from home. After giving him the cross streets and the direction we’re traveling, he promises to meet up with us in a few minutes, while ordering me to stay on the line with him.

“Ouch,” I hiss when one of them plasters his front to my back and shoves me against the bar. “Y-y-you’re h-hurting me.”

Cato curses, hearing what I’m saying and promising all kinds of pain for the man touching me.