Chapter 4

The only hotel that had room was some grungy little Super 8 down the block from the bar. Luckily it had two rooms, and I walk into mine and sigh happily. I'm safe from Bumper.

I crash onto the bed and bury my face in the pillows, cackling with happiness. They aren't exactly comfy, but any bed is better than a five-mile stumble back to the dorm. I wrap it in my arms. "You're a good pillow aren't you, you're just the best pillow ever. I'm going to sleep on you and we'll wake up in the morning and I'll take you home because you are such a great pillow."

"Why can't you do that with me?" a low voice chimes in. I startle and flail, thunking to the ground amid a mess of tangled sheets. Bumper stands over me, his upside-down grin half-hidden by fabric. I sputter.

"HOW DID YOU GET IN HERE?" I bellow, struggling to my hands and knees. "WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING HERE? GET OUT, YOU LITTLE SHIT! I'M TRYING TO SLEEP!"

He steps back, a little afraid of the roaring pile of blankets. "There's a door between our rooms. Did you not notice?" he asks innocently, batting large puppy eyes. "It was lonely in there, so I thought I would come...talk...to you."

I don't like his tone, and I yank the last of the sheets off me and rise to my feet. "Nope, you're leaving. Right now. Sorry short shit, except I'm not." I begin shoving him back towards the open door in the wall. "Good night, goodbye, until tomorrow, et cetera, et cetera, OUT!"

He braces his hands against the doorframe and refuses to be pushed farther. I shove my weight against him, but he still doesn't budge. "You think that's all it'll take, Fat Amy?" he asks mockingly. "I'm not leaving until I get a goodnight kiss."

"Oh, let me guess, you'll want goodnight sex afterwards?" "I never said that, but now that you mention it..."

I take a few steps back and make a running leap, knocking him through the door and slamming it behind him. I turn the lock, and he bangs on it, shouting. "Amy! Hey Amy, come on! I was kidding! Let me in! AMY! I BOUGHT YOUR DRINK! YOU OWE ME ONE!"

"I owe you one! That doesn't mean I owe you sex! One does not equal sex! Do the math, short shit!" I call back.

He pounds the door, a sharp and angry sound, but I walk back to bed and crash into it. I'm so done with this little shit. If he makes it in here, I'm going to shred him like my mama dingo taught me in the outback. I'm going to sleep.

A few hours later, a small clicking noise interrupts my sleep, and I roll over. My senses aren't totally alert, but I don't see anything odd. I close my eyes and begin drifting back to dreamland when a figure rises over the edge of the bed, resting its chin on the covers. I can hear it breathing. It's a fire demon, I swear. My hand shoots out, wrapping around its head, and I pull it close ready to send it back to the hell where it belongs. I scream, bellowing a war cry in the demon's face. Teach the little fucker to mess with me.

It's Bumper.

I groan and release his face, and he drops to the floor, gasping for breath. "BUMPER! What the hell are you doing?" I snap.

He rubs his chin where I gripped it, his movements blurry in the dark room. I reach to turn on the bedside lamp, but his voice stops me. "Don't," he growls. My hand freezes mid-air. He glances up, his eyes shimmering in the darkness.

I sit up. He's acting weird. I'm a bit worried about him. Maybe someone spiked one of his drinks with some weird drug thing. "Bumper, are you okay? You're acting really strange."

Without another word, he smashes his lips against mine, so hard I can barely breathe. His mouth burns with the taste of leftover alcohol and the mint gum he chewed earlier. It spices my tongue...and I'm not sure if I like it.

I shove him off me and slap him, but he pins my arms to my sides and crawls on top of me. His eyes are wild, his hair tangled, and for the first time I'm kind of scared of him. He really does look like a demon.

"Bumper," I say slowly and clearly. "Get off me before I call the police."

"No," he growls, before smashing his lips against me. His frantic hands tug at my jacket, yank at the buttons on my jeans, and it feels so good, I like it, I love it, I want him to touch me, I want him to get off me.

My shirt rips, shredded right down the middle, and he presses his mouth to my neck, biting down with teeth that are uncomfortably sharp.

I have no idea what the hell is going on but oh God, Fat Amy is into the wild side.