"So, you're the sheriff's son?"
Kevin tensed as Nick St. Clair moved closer to him and ran an unwanted hand along his pec.
"Actually, it's Kevin," Kevin managed to stammer out with some authority in his voice. He drew his drink to his lips, subtly trying to brush away Nick's touch.
"Feisty. I like it," Nick laughed. He pressed closer to Kevin, using his body weight to push him back until he had him trapped between the wall and the bar. He traced his jaw in a way that felt less sexy and more sleazy. "So, is it true what they say?"
"What do you mean?" Kevin sputtered. He squirmed under the touch as his eyes darted around the suite. He tried to catch someone's attention, but all of his friends were too lost in their own alcohol-fueled hazes to notice his distress. Even Betty, who only had soda, seemed too preoccupied to notice.
"You know," Nick replied, his breath hot and heavy against his ear. It reeked of expensive booze. "It's the same thing they say about pastor kids. Sweet on the street. Freaks in the sheets."
Kevin involuntarily shivered. He'd felt Nick's leering gaze all night, eyes roaming his body in ways he only wanted Moose to do. At least now he knew why. Screwing the sheriff's kid was probably a conquest in corruption Nick just couldn't resist.
His skin crawled as Nick placed sloppy kisses on his neck, his rough hands wandered dangerously low down his hips.
"Nick, stop," Kevin pleaded. He tried to push him off of him, but Nick just pushed back harder, practically grinding against him.
"So perfect," he slurred as toyed with button on Kevin's jeans. "Why don't we move this party somewhere more private?" He shoved a knee in between his thighs, forcing them apart. "Or we could put on a little show."
He grabbed Kevin's crotch and gave it a hard squeeze, kicking Kevin's fight or flight response into high gear. Using the wall as leverage, Kevin shoved Nick way with everything he had.
"What the hell?" Nick hissed as he stumbled backwards.
Kevin seized on his chance and pushed past Nick. He rushed down the small hallway, not stopping until he was in the safety of the lavish bathroom.
He locked the door behind him and sunk down to the cold marble floor. He drew his knees to his chest, his whole body shaking and tears threatening to fall. He squeezed his eyes shut. The four mixed drinks he'd had earlier (three drinks too many if he was being completely honest) churned uncomfortably in his stomach, forcing him to swallow hard to keep the nausea at bay. He could still feel Nick's unwanted touches, still smell his boozy breath. He felt violated and the worst part was no one had noticed despite it being very public.
With a frustrated sigh, Kevin leaned his head against the door. He knew he couldn't spend the whole night freaking out on the bathroom floor, but he didn't want to go back to the party either.
He pulled his phone from his pocket and typed a simple message: Please come get me.
A minute passed agonizingly slow before his phone buzzed back to life.
Ok. Where are you?
Kevin quickly typed back that he was at the Five Seasons.
Shoving his phone back in his pocket, Kevin forced himself to get to his feet. Catching sight of his reflection, he cringed a bit. His eyes were bloodshot, his skin pale. He quickly splashed cold water on his face as tried to pull himself together enough to make a quick getaway. With one final deep breath to steel his nerves, Kevin turned the lock on the bathroom door.
Making his way back to the main room, Kevin found all his friends circled around Nick, who had them all captivated by some story. Well, except Betty, who just looked really pissed off. He slipped into the group unnoticed, taking the only empty seat next to Cheryl. Unfortunately, it also happened to be right next to Nick. He tried to laugh along, but it sounded hallow even to his own ears.
"Let's move onto something with a little more kick." He opened his jacket to reveal a collection of pixie-stick looking confections.
Beside him, Cheryl's eyes went wide. "Is that?"
"Jingle jangle," Nick replied. He sent a hungry glance in Kevin's direction. "Why yes it is."
Kevin felt his stomach drop. Most parties he had gone to in the past had drugs, but they were done in dark corners not right out in the open. He knew more about jingle jangle than he ever cared to know thanks to his dad's many anti-drug speeches. It produced pretty nice high much like X or molli, but it also lowered inhibitions leaving the user vulnerable. Plus, if Nick was packing a jacket full of jingle jangle, he didn't even want to think what other little chemical subduers he had lying around.
"Kevin?"
Kevin looked from Cheryl to Nick St. Clair's jacket full of jingle jangle and back again.
"I, um..."
Kevin was cut off by his phone vibrating in his pocket.
Finally.
He pulled it out, eyes going big as he read the text. He was careful to keep it out of Nick's view.
"Shit," he hissed.
"Who is it?" Cheryl asked, craning her neck to see the screen.
"My dad," Kevin replied. "He's getting off early."
"And that matters why?" Nick leaned in close, too close for Kevin's comfort. He laid his hand firmly on Kevin's thigh, pressing down painfully hard.
"I'm still sort of grounded," Kevin explained, pushing Nick's hand away and trying not to squirm. Nick seriously had a lot of nerve. "School and extracurriculars only. My dad will kill me if he gets home and I'm not there."
It wasn't exactly a lie. The day after the whole Fox Forest debacle his dad had sat him down at the kitchen table and gently but firmly explained that, while he knew he was just looking for companionship, he couldn't let Kevin's deceitful behavior and total disregard for his safety slide. He'd put him on lockdown for two weeks. He was expected to either be at school, his activities, or home. His punishment had only been lifted three days prior.
"Just lie and tell him you're staying at Betty's to work on a project." The suggestion rolled off of Veronica's lips with such ease Kevin wondered how many times she used it herself. "Don't be such a buzzkill."
Kevin fought the urge to roll his eyes. Nick just practically groped him in front of everyone and he was the buzzkill?
"Lying to my dad is kind of what got me grounded in the first place," Kevin said. He stood up and rifled through the pile of discarded jackets looking for his. "Plus, he's not above tracking my phone if he thinks I'm not where he thinks I am."
Also not a lie. In order to ensure he could keep track of his son despite his duties as sheriff, his father also required regular text check-ins and a warning that he would be turning on his phone's GPS at random times throughout the day to ensure Kevin was where he said he was. He'd made that part of the punishment longer as a way to emphasize that Kevin needed to earn back his father's trust.
Reggie let out a low whistle. "Damn, those are like prison rules. Never realized your dad was such a warden."
Ignoring Reggie, Kevin tugged on his jacket.
"Kev…" Veronica started only to be cut off by Nick.
"Let the buzzkill go, Ronnie. It's time for the big kids to play." Nick looked at Kevin as if he were something on the bottom of his shoe. "Run along. Go home to daddy."
Kevin forced out a goodbye, before turning on his heel and getting the hell out of the suite and away from Nick.
Luckily, there was an elevator waiting for him as soon as he made it to the end of the hall, and he made to the lobby without incident.
The second Kevin stepped outside out of the Five Seasons he saw the familiar truck parked front. It called to him like a lighthouse in the storm. He wasted no time pulling open the door, climbing inside the cab, and throwing his arms tightly around his father. Tom Keller startled for a moment before wrapping his arms around his son and returning the hug. Tears pricked his eyes as he buried his face in his neck, breathing in comfortingly familiar smell of worn leather and aftershave and taking solace in the strong steady embrace.
After a few moments, Tom pulled back and gently cupped his cheek, worry lining his face.
"Hey, what happened? Is everything all right?"
It wasn't, but Kevin was too tired and too shaken to go into all the details right now. He just wanted to get away from the Five Seasons and Nick St. Clair as possible. Plus, he wasn't sure exactly what his dad would do if he knew he was only yards away from the guy who tried to force on himself on his only son. He only knew it wouldn't be pretty. Tom Keller the sheriff didn't hold a candle to Tom Keller the dad.
Instead, he simply asked, "Can we go home?"
Tom seemed like he wanted to press, ask why his obviously upset son needed a late-night pickup, but, much to Kevin's relief, he held his tongue and started the truck.
He wasn't sure if it was the night air, the car ride, or simply his fight or flight instincts wearing off, but, as the truck turned into the driveway, Kevin started really feel the effects the booze. As soon as his father unlocked the front door, he bolted for the first-floor powder room, retching as soon as he got the toilet seat up. Hot tears spilled down his cheeks with each painful heave.
"Easy, Kev, easy," Tom soothed, kneeling down beside him. He rubbed circles up and down Kevin's back. "It's okay. You're okay. Don't fight it. Just breathe and let your body do what it needs to do."
As he finished, Kevin let out a whimper, the room spinning around him. He leaned back into his father's steady arms, letting his eyes slide shut. Tom ran a cold cloth over his face, wiping away the sweat and tears.
Kevin blearily blinked up at him. "Sorry," he croaked.
"Hush, sweetheart," he replied softly. He ran his fingers through Kevin's hair. "We're gonna sit here for a few minutes, okay? I just want to make sure you're not going to get sick again."
Kevin didn't reply. He just rested his cheek against his father's chest and tried to breathe through the lingering nausea he felt. When it seemed like his stomach had settled down, his dad made him drink a glass of water before helpng him to his feet to make the trek upstairs.
They made it up to his bedroom without incident despite Kevin's shaky legs and Tom carrying most of his weight. His dad helped him sit and went to grab him some clean pajamas.
"Here," he said handing him the plaid pants and baggy t-shirt. "Put these on and get in bed. I'll be back in a few minutes."
Somehow, even with his uncooperative limbs and the fuzziness inside his head, Kevin was changed and under the covers by the time his dad returned. He sat down on the bed and handed Kevin a couple pills and a glass of water.
"Take these," Tom said softly. "You'll still feel like hell in the morning, but they'll take some of the edge off."
Kevin obediently swallowed the pills and the water and laid back against the pillows with a groan.
"Why are you being so calm about this? Shouldn't you be asking me what I was thinking and threatening to ground me until I'm thirty or something?"
Tom brushed back his hair.
"Trust me, there will be plenty of time for that in the morning. Now, go to sleep. The sooner you do the sooner the room stops spinning." He pressed a kiss to his forehead. "Good night, sweetheart."
"Night, dad," he whispered as he drifted off into blissful unconsciousness.
Kevin felt absolutely wretched when awoke the next morning. While his walls thankfully stayed in one place, his stomach was still pretty queasy, his head throbbed, and his mouth tasted like a disgusting blend of stale booze, morning breath, and vomit. He just wanted to pull the covers over his head, curl up in a ball, and not move for the rest of the day or possibly ever again. However, he knew he was probably in the doghouse with his father, and he definitely wouldn't let him use a hangover as an excuse to lie in bed all day.
With a groan, Kevin threw back the covers, and dragged himself to the bathroom. After taking a too hot shower that made him feel slightly more human and washed any remnant of Nick from his skin and scrubbing the horrible taste from his mouth with a toothbrush, he dressed in an old pair of jeans and one of his father's hand-me-down flannel shirts. He gave himself a quick onceover in the mirror and winced. There was no hiding his too pale skin or the dark circles under his blood shot eyes. He sighed.
Time to face the music.
Kevin staggered downstairs just as Tom was plating up two big servings of eggs, bacon and toast. He turned his head and smiled a bit too cheerily for Kevin's taste.
"Good you're up. How you feeling, pal?"
Kevin collapsed in a chair rested his head in his arms on the table with a groan. "I never want to drink, see, or think about alcohol ever again."
Tom chuckled and placed a plate and steaming mug of coffee in front of him. "Everyone says that. Now, eat up."
Kevin's stomach turned. "I don't think that's such a good idea."
"Trust me," Tom said, taking his usual seat at the table with his own plate of food. "It seems crazy, but a good greasy meal and strong cup of black coffee will help settle your stomach."
Kevin eyed his father warily, but took a bite nonetheless. After a few mouthfuls, he was pleasantly shocked that he wasn't running for the bathroom and that he actually felt better the more he ate.
"Kevin, you know we need to talk about last night."
He stared down at his plate. Leave it to his dad to not pull any punches.
"I'm sorry you had to come pick me up," he said softly. "I didn't mean to drink so much."
Tom's eyebrows shot up. "Woah, that's not what I meant." He lifted Kevin's chin, so they were eye-to-eye. "Don't you dare apologize for needing me. Ever. Remember what I tell you every time you go out? You can call me anytime, day or night, and I'll be there no questions asked. Am I thrilled you were drinking? No, and we'll deal with that later. Right now, I'm more concerned about why you were so upset when you got in the truck last night." Tom moved his hand to his shoulder and gave a gentle squeeze. "Did something happen at the party?"
Kevin sucked in a breath. Flashes of Nick and the night before played across his mind. The last thing he wanted to think about was Nick's rough unwanted touches and boozed soaked breath. He didn't want to remember how violated he felt or how desperate he was to get away. All he wanted was to push last night as far back in his mind as possible and pretend it never happened. He also didn't want to have his dad go to jail for killing Nick.
However, he also knew his father wasn't one to let things like this go, and he would keep subtly prodding until his son spilled whatever was bothering him. Plus, there was a huge part of him that craved his father's unconditional comfort and reassurance.
Kevin took a deep breath. "You know the guy throwing the party? Nick St. Clair. Well, I guess he saw me and wanted to mess around or something, because, after I had a few drinks, he sort of cornered me and, um, got sort of physical."
"He what?" Tom growled, a dark storm sweeping over his features.
"Nothing happened," Kevin said quickly. "He just kind of kissed and groped me, and I pushed him off before things got too out of hand. I mean it was probably my fault too. I did have too much to drink, and I probably should have fought back harder when he started…"
"Stop right there," Tom interrupted. His tone was firm yet gentle. He drew his son into a hug. "Nothing that happened was your fault. Do you understand me? That's all on that Nick kid. He had no right to force himself. You did absolutely nothing wrong."
Kevin choked out a sob buried his face in his father's shoulder, allowing himself to fall apart in his father's arms.
Tom held him tighter. "Shhh, it's okay. You're okay. I'm right here."
They sat like that for several minutes, holding onto each other, thanking God the night didn't have a more tragic ending.
After several minutes, Kevin pulled back, wiping his eyes.
"You did the right thing last night," Tom told him softly. "You knew you were in a bad situation, and you got yourself out of it. You did everything I taught you. I'm proud of you, Kev."
Afraid he'd start crying if he tried to speak, Kevin just nodded as his father's words washed over him.
"Now," Tom said as he leaned back in his chair. "Finish your breakfast. You'll need your strength to help me clean out the garage today."
Kevin groaned. The Keller garage was basically a dumping ground for all the stuff and useless crap they had no place for in the house. It had been months since they had tackled trying to organize it.
"The garage, Dad? Really? Can't you just ground me again?"
"Call it creative consequences. If I learned anything from your granddad it was that a little hard labor mixed with a bad hangover was the best way to put an end to a teenage boy's drunken escapades." Tom offered him a wicked grin. "Hey, at least cleaning out the garage has purpose. When I pulled this same stunt, your granddad made me spend my whole spring break digging and refilling a giant hole in the backyard."
Kevin raised an eyebrow. "Grandpa found you drunk and you lived to tell the tale?"
Tom just laughed. "Finish up. I'll tell you all about it while we work."
Kevin picked up his spoon and dug into his plate. He still felt like crap, and he was pretty sure there would be a few nightmare-filled nights ahead of him courtesy of Nick. Yet, as he sat his kitchen table with his dad, he couldn't help but feel a warmth spreading inside him. No matter how dark the night, morning would always find a way to break through.