Just as I turned to walk away, ready to erase this entire conversation from my memory, I felt it—
A hand grabbing my arm.
My entire body stiffened.
Instantly, a surge of irritation shot through me.
I turned, my eyes snapping to the unwelcome grip, then trailing up to the i***t who dared to touch me.
It was him. Anya’s boyfriend. Mike? Matt? Mark?—whatever the hell his name was—gripping my arm with a lazy smirk on his face. His fingers felt too warm against my skin.
Oh, for f**k’s sake.
“Hey… where are you rushing to?” His voice was thick, slurred just enough to tell me he had more than a few drinks.
I almost gagged.
The stench of alcohol hit me like a damn brick wall, thick and sour. My nose scrunched up, and I instinctively leaned back, trying to put some distance between
