"Are you insane? I've been working all damn day and now I have to sit here watching your little drama?"
"The guy touched you once. What, you lose a piece of yourself? Move the bike! I want to go home!"
"This is what women are like now—can't take a joke. Two words and suddenly it's harassment. You really think you're that special?"
Each line landed like a sledgehammer, one after another, pounding me flat.
My blood went cold all at once—fingertips, palms, everything shaking.
I was the one who'd been assaulted. I was the victim. So how did it end up being my fault?
Ervin watched the crowd turn on me and his grin stretched wider.
He reached for my helmet again:
"See? Everybody here thinks you're out of your mind. Drop the act. Us guys paying attention to you? That's doing you a favor."
Rodney grabbed my wrist and yanked it hard toward him:
"Don't bite the hand that feeds you! Pull this shit again and we'll drag you off that bike right here—let every single person get a good long look at what kind of trash you are!"
Roger's hand went to my zipper again and pulled it down even further.
Three seconds left on the red.
I stared at the three faces in front of me and only one thought was left in my head: