I ring the bell.

Nobody replies, yet, there are sounds of rustling behind the door.

I start thinking that maybe I should go back. But then he answers the door, and it’s too late in my mind, too late to turn away.

He smirks. “You made it.”

The first thing I notice is that he barely has any clothes on. The second… is that he stinks of alcohol.

The man takes me by the wrist and tugs on my arm as I follow him into his room. He kicks the door shut with his foot before turning his attention back towards me and urging my back against the wall. Lifting my hands above my head, he pins my body with his and leans forward, until our breaths intertwine, until his leg hikes up between my knees. “Such an obedient boy you are.” He chuckles and grinds his leg against my erection. “And,” his lips touch mine, “you have such a tiny dick.” His tongue is in my mouth. My hands are buried in his dark locks. And we’re kissing, not the type of kiss you see at weddings, but the type you’d only be familiar with after watching adult movies. He swirls his tongue around mine and slides his palm around my waist, moving his hips against my groin, letting me feel the weight of his erection through the thin fabric of his soaked boxers.

But I’m scared. Because it feels wrong. Because I think Robbie was right. I don’t know this man. What was I thinking? What’s the point of all this if I’m never going to see him again?

I rest both my hands across his chest and slowly urge him away from me.

But he doesn’t stop.

Instead, he just grabs my shirt, and tries to tug it off. And suddenly the room is scorching, and my lungs burn, and I can’t breathe. And—

The door bursts open.

Ronnie comes dashing in.

He tackles the man.

Their bodies knock over a lamp whose light blinks twice before dying out.

Ronnie closes his fist. He straddles the man into submission and raises his arm before bringing it down towards his face. I gasp. I lunge for Ronnie and grab his wrist before he can hit him in the nose.

“Heh.” Ronnie smirks. “You’re lucky my friend isn’t an asshole like me,” he tells the man between two heavy pants. Turning to me, Ronnie says, “come on, we’re leaving,” before grabbing my wrist and dragging me out of the room, and, to my surprise; far from the motel.

We get into his car.

He doesn’t speak a word.

It’s only after an hour of driving in complete and utter silence that he finally decides to talk.

“That guy was following us,” he says.

My lips part. My hands shake. “What—”

“I didn’t want to frighten you.” Ronnie sighs. “But, he was there back at the diner. I think he overheard our conversation. I think he knew about you, and that you’d be an easy target. I’m sorry,” he says, “I should have been more straightforward with you. But you looked so happy, I—"

I cannot stop the sobs that come from leaving my mouth. “I’m— I’m so sorry, Ronnie,” I whimper, my face hidden between my palms. “I— I didn’t mean to—”

Ronnie pulls over.

I don’t know where we are, only, that it’s dark.

Very dark.

But I can’t bring myself to care.

Ronnie unbuckles his seatbelt and takes me into his arms.

He still smells like vomit, howeverm it’s definitely better than whiskey; and in this moment: everything else for that matter. “Nah, Steph,” he mutters, giving my shoulders squeeze. “I’m the one who’s sorry.”