As I watch the girls descend upon him, I change my mind. I think it might be time to leave. What might be worse than hearing Chase tell me that I was too young for him would be to see him actually show interest in someone who is my age. Then I’d know he was full of shit. Not that I don’t think he is, but more full of it.

“Can I have my bag?” I wiggle through the circle of girls that have surrounded him and slip my sandals on.

“No.”

“I need my purse so I can call for a ride.” I drove, but since I’ve had a few drinks I’ll leave my car overnight.

“I rode with Asher. I’ll drive your car. I saw it parked out front. Where is whatever you wore over that?” He makes an annoyed face as he motions to my swimsuit.

“Maybe I came this way.”

“You want to play, little girl?” He starts to pull his shirt off, and I know he’s going to put it on me. I grab it to stop him. I don’t need all the girls fainting looking at him with no shirt.

“It’s in my bag, and don’t call me that,” I grit out. I hate when he calls me a little girl. We both know why he does it: to remind me that I’m just some little girl while he’s a man who would only ever want a woman. Each time he says it to me, it reminds me of the way he hurt me.

He reaches into my bag and pulls my dress out. “Don’t you know that you don’t go into girls' purses? It's a well-known rule.”

“Don’t have a lot of experience handling women’s purses.” I shake my head at him but put my flowy blue dress back on.

Blue, Chase’s favorite color. I know because he once told me. A dark blue. The same as my eyes. He hadn’t said that last part, but when I was a little girl, I told myself he loved blue because of my eyes. They aren’t solid blue. They fade from light to dark. I got them from my mother. I actually got a lot of my looks from her. It’s bittersweet because my mom might be ugly on the inside, but she’s beautiful on the outside.

“Let’s go.” Chase still doesn’t give me my purse back. In fact, he digs in it again to find my keys before he grabs me by the arm.

“Chase, don't leave.”

“Emily, introduce us,” I hear a few girls from my cheer team say as I’m being pulled away.

“Let go.” I try to jerk my arm from his hold.

“Not happening.”