Chapter 9: Escape from Alcatraz
Growling, Angelica pushed her way through the dance floor, trying to get to the front door. She was trying desperately to lose Matt—or, as she'd come to think of him, Mr. Pending Sexual Harassment Lawsuit. And after she'd lost Matt, she was going to murder Tom. This was, after all, entirely her stupid cousin's fault.
And where in blazes had Susie gone? Some best friend she was. Angelica hadn't seen her in at least an hour.
"Hey, Angelica!"
Well, damn. She'd gotten so close to the door, too.
She turned with a smile plastered across her face. "Matthew!" she yelled over the pulsing dance music. "There you are! I've been looking all over."
And lo and behold, there he was, in all his creepy glory. Tall and broad, dark hair, dark eyes, too-wide smile. She'd been rather infatuated with him through most of dinner, until he smiled right into her eyes while running his nasty sweaty palms up her inner thigh. Now those groping hands were holding two plastic cups of beer. Grinning, he handed her one, and she reluctantly accepted it.
As he leaned forward to speak, his face disturbingly close to hers, Angelica's eyes nervously scanned the room. Surely there had to be someone she knew nearby, someone who she must conveniently go talk to. But she didn't see anyone she recognized. Maybe it was the dim lighting. Stupid frat parties.
Then Matt leaned forward a little further, and his lips touched her skin. As he kissed her neck, an involuntary shiver immediately ran through her. He seemed to misinterpret this as a shiver of pleasure, and she felt one of his hands grab her waist and pull her towards him.
All right. Enough was enough. She placed her hands on his chest and shoved, hard. He staggered back a half-step and stared at her with a dumbfounded expression. "What? What's wrong?" He sounded more annoyed than concerned.
"I'm not a piece of meat, that's what's wrong," she snapped, taking a step back and keeping her hands in front of her.
For a beat or two, he kept looking at her with uncomprehending eyes. "But … I took you out to dinner," Matt said and, just as her jaw dropped in disbelief at his chutzpah, he threw his beer in her face. Then he stormed off, back across the crowded dance floor.
Angelica was so stunned that it took few seconds to recover enough to lob her plastic cup at the back of his head. By then he was out of range, and instead she hit a tall redheaded girl, who shot her a death glare. Before the redhead could do anything further, Angelica decided to return to her original plan and beat a hasty retreat.
It was when she'd almost reached the front door that she caught sight of Tom and his little friends. Great. Now she found them. Maybe she could get out the door without them seeing her—
"Hey! Angie!"
There was a theme in the makings here. Perhaps karma was involved. Angelica turned to see Tom trotting over to her, with Lillian DeVille and Chuck Finster on his heels. Larry, Curly, and Moe. Idly she wondered where Phil was.
She glared at them, because they were there and she felt like glaring. "I got you into this party," she complained. "Shouldn't you be off enjoying yourselves and leaving me the hell alone?"
"Relax. Just came over to say thanks." Tom grinned good-naturedly. Then he cocked his head and asked, "Why is your face wet?"
Instead of answering, she spun on her heel and headed out the door. She was definitely going to murder Tom, she decided.
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Author's Notes: I'm s0 sorry for the problems created by condensing chapters! I've changed everything back to how it was before, so hopefully that'll solve that. I might condense again once the story's finished but not 'til then.
Also, I hadn't realized that anonymous comments were off—they're on, now, so comment anonymously all to your heart's desire. Thanks for reading!
