Chapter 66

• My heart starts to pound erratically as the man beside me extends his hand. When I take it, and he strokes his thumb over my mine, my skin starts to tingle. “I’m Rick,” he shouts.
• The floor seems to be tilting, my head a little light, and my breathing starting to speed. I squint at Rick, trying to work out if I’m even mildly attracted to him or whether I drank my wine too fast. The room is suddenly far too warm, and I’m filled with an impulse to feel the chilly air on my face, so I grab my phone and my purse and try to garble a half-shouted excuse to Rick that I don’t feel well as I slide off my bar stool on legs like Jell-O.
• Someone grabs my ass as I try to make my way past, I hiss a slurred curse, growing more alarmed at how one glass of wine seems to have affected me so much. Maybe I’m more tired than I realized? Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all? I try to convince myself that’s what the problem is when I stumble outside in the cold night air.