Paul looks good.
Tan skin, dark hair, dark eyes.
He's on the couch, I'm on the armchair besides him.
Third drink in, I end up next to him.
By the time I'm done with my fourth or maybe fifth drink, I'm on his lap. His hand is just underneath my shirt.
Alcohols clouding my mind so I don't hesitate to answer 'yes' when he asks me if I want to move to the bedroom.
He stands up, almost knocking me off his lap but I quickly get back my balance and follow him to his bedroom.
Paul starts out under me then he's over me, on top of me and his hands are reaching higher and higher under my shirt.
I want this.
Then, in a moment of clarity, I don't.
"No. No no no no no." I pull at Paul's hands, trying to get them off of my skin.
Suddenly it feels so wrong.
He keeps trying to kiss my neck but I arch away from him and push at him until he gets the message and stands up.
"What the fuck, Bella?" He's pissed.
"I'm sorry. This was just...this is wrong. I can't do this." I'm frantic. "I have to go."
"Leave, then. I don't give a fuck." His words are harsh and cold and when I look into his eyes, I can see he means them.
As I run out, I see the pictures he has out that he never used to have before of him and a girl.
Emily.
Out on the street I realize how late and cold it is and how drunk I am.
I have no cab money.
The bus has stopped running.
Everything is spinning and I'm not sure I'd be able to get back.
I feel bad but call Rosalie. Her phones off, she's probably sleeping.
I'm about to walk home, but a group of men stumbling down the opposite side of the street stops me.
They spot me and start yelling disgusting things at me and begin to cross the street.
I run a block and then sit down on someones stoop.
I take my phone back out of my pocket and call the only other person I can think of.
Edward.
That wasn't too bad, right?
Is Edward going to answer his phone and save her?