There With You by Samantha Young
Regan
Ho Chi Minh City
Last New Year’s Eve
District 3 was loud with music, voices, laughter, screams, and drunken revelry. We were delighted when we discovered the Vietnamese celebrated the Gregorian New Year. None of us wanted to miss it. Now I wished more than ever I’d gone back home to Boston to celebrate with Robyn and Mom and Dad. Instead, I’d stayed and made a mess of everything.
Western New Year was over, but with Lunar New Year upcoming on February 1, the city was still bright with color and celebration. I stared forlornly down at the streets filled with people and lights and lanterns. Vietnam knew how to celebrate in style. I’d never seen anything like it. The lights that hung from the buildings and lampposts and wound around the trees were on par with the most impressive Christmas displays. The lights on the street below looked like bright pink flowers and golden birds, while streams of fairy lights sparkled between them. It was truly something.
And yet, here I was, alone in my crappy hotel room because I’d stupidly slept with Austin Vale on New Year’s Eve.
Our friends had gone to a party tonight. I’d tagged along, thinking surely Austin had gotten my not-so-subtle hints that our drunken night together was a mistake. What had been annoyingly clingy behavior since had degenerated into obsessive. I finally blew up at him tonight when he got in my face for flirting with another tourist. I hated that he pushed me, and I was mean to him. Or that Desi’s boyfriend, Liam, had to tell Austin to back off and then walk me back to the hotel because my night was ruined. At least Austin knew the score now. I just hoped he’d give me a wide berth or I might have to ditch my backpacking companions.
They were a fun group, but I realized I wouldn’t really miss any of them if I left.
Maybe that was a sign I should leave.
That I should finally pull my shit together and face my big sister.
She hates you.
Tears burned my eyes. “I’d hate me too,” I muttered.
Robyn would never have needed a guy to walk her back to her hotel room. She’d never sit on a strange, crappy bed that thousands of other people had slept on, wallowing in self-pity.
“You’re sad without me.”
The familiar voice made me jump. My heart thumped in my throat as I launched up off the bed, spinning to face Austin. He closed the hotel room door behind him and turned the lock.
“How did you get in here?”
“You taught me how to pick a lock, remember?” He grinned, waving a couple of bobby pins.
Damn it. So I had. A few months ago, in Spain, Austin and I had worked together at this bar in Málaga. The boss was a creepy British guy, a total asshole. He kept a locked room on the premises, and it became a running joke among a few of us. We’d hazard guesses about what he kept in there, the guesses growing scarier as the weeks went on.
On our last night on the job, Austin and I had a couple of shots for kicks and I told him I could pick locks. I’d read about it as a teen and then practiced until I’d perfected it. I’d taught Robyn how to do it too. That night, I showed Austin, and we broke into the room to find it filled with stock we’d never seen. Expensive cases of whisky and gin, boxes of cigarettes, and cash. Lots of cash. Realizing there was probably something criminal going on, we got the hell out of there and hoped the boss didn’t have a security camera in the room.
The next day we were on a bus to Italy, anyway.
And Austin had learned a new skill.
Well done, Regan.
“I want you to leave.” My voice shook.
“Not until you tell me you feel the same way. Because I know you do.” There was a light in his eyes I’d never seen before. Utter faith. Utter belief.
In us.
Oh my God. He was delusional.
“Austin, we’re just friends. Sleeping together was a mistake. I don’t want to be in a relationship with you. I’m sorry if that hurts your feelings, but that’s just the way it is. Now please leave, or I’m going to call the police.”
“Good. Call them. Because if you don’t try to love me back, I’m going to kill myself.”
Aghast, I stared at him like I’d never seen him before. I felt like I hadn’t. We’d been in each other’s company for months, and I’d always thought he was just a good guy. Laid-back, great sense of humor, kind of a cute nerd. We had zero chemistry, so I’d only ever seen him as a friend, which was why I was so angry at myself for sleeping with him while drunk. I never would’ve imagined this would happen after sleeping with him, though. Never.
“You’re obviously drunk, right? ’Cause you’re talking crazy.”
“Don’t call me crazy.” He gave me a dark look. “It’s politically incorrect and incredibly insensitive.”
I narrowed my eyes. “So if I’m insensitive … what do you call a person who tries to emotionally manipulate someone into being in a relationship with them?”
“I’m not trying to manipulate you. I’m telling you how I’ll feel, knowing you’re denying the truth between us. I don’t know what you’re running from, Regan, but you don’t have to run from me.” He crossed the room, and I backed up, my hands raised defensively.
“Don’t touch me.” I warned. He kept coming. “Austin, don’t touch me!” But he reached for me, so I planted my hands on his chest and shoved. “Get away from me!”
“Why are you fighting this?” he asked calmly as we grappled.
Fear and panic set in. I tried to get away from him, but he gripped my wrists tightly in his fists. I kicked at him; he cursed and jerked out of the way, my foot just missing a direct hit to his balls, but he never once let go. He was freakishly strong.
“Let go of me!” I shrieked.
“Not until you come to your senses.”
He was so calm. So collected. Even as I struggled in his arms like a wild animal.
I couldn’t get past the self-flagellating thoughts that I should have listened to Robyn when she told me to take self-defense classes. Why didn’t I listen to you, Robbie?
Tears escaped before I could stop them, and Austin tsked, pulling me into his body. “Shh, don’t cry. I know it’s hard to make yourself vulnerable, but you can be vulnerable with me. I love you so much.”
Rage flooded me, and I brought my knee up hard into his gut. His grip on me loosened as he grunted in pain, and I shoved him off, pushing past him, lunging toward the door.
A strong arm banded around my waist a mere second later. “No!” I shouted as I was hauled back against him. He was too strong. How was he so strong? “Stop it!”
“You stop it,” he hissed angrily in my ear as he struggled to hold on to me. “I tried to be nice. But it’s time to teach you who is in charge here, Regan.” Then he swiped a hand across the top of the sideboard where my roommate and I kept our stuff. My perfume bottle smashed on the wooden floor, the smell at once cloying.
“No!” I pushed against the arm that was crushing me, kicking out with one leg, and suddenly feeling nothing but air beneath me seconds before I found myself bent over the sideboard. The breath was knocked out of me as it slammed into my gut. As I struggled to draw breath, I was vaguely aware of the throbbing in my cheek where my face had smacked off the top of it.
I tasted blood.
“You’re going to remember what it’s like between us, Regan.” I heard Austin say over the buzzing in my ears.
Air tickled my backside, and I realized my dress had been shoved up to my waist.
A sense of unreality descended over me as I felt my underwear tear.
No.
This wasn’t happening to me.
This happened to other people.
It couldn’t be happening to me.
I heard his zipper.
No!
I tried to push up off the sideboard, but he had my arms splayed over my head, my wrists crossed, holding me down with one hand, while he used his other—
“No,” I whispered hoarsely, pushing against his hold. He had me pinned with the weight of his entire body. No.
“Stay down,” he demanded.
“No.” My voice got louder as I tried to dislodge him with my hips.
“Stay down!”
And then I felt him, ready, pushing between my legs.
Nausea rose up from my gut.
And rage.
I lifted my head and chest just enough, and I screamed as loud as I could. “HELP!”
“Shut up!”
“HELP ME!”
“Regan?!” a girl shouted from the hallway.
Desi.
“DESI, HEL—”
A large, sweaty hand covered my mouth, cutting me off. “Shut up, or I’ll kill—what the fuck!”
A loud banging drew my terrified gaze to the door. It shook against the jamb. Another pound and it broke away, splintering off the door frame, flying open into the room.
A frantic Liam and Desi appeared, and I sobbed in relief against Austin’s hand.
“You motherfucker!” Liam lunged at Austin and then his weight was off me.
I was aware of Desi’s gentle hands on me, of her smoothing my dress down to cover me, her embrace as she held me while Liam threw Austin out of the room. Their words of concern, their questions, became like gnats in my ear, buzzing around.
I was already somewhere else in my mind, planning my escape from Vietnam, from what had just happened.
Nothing happened, I whispered.
Nothing had happened.
You’re okay.
Nothing happened here.