“Um,” I say, not really sure what to respond. “He’ll be back in a minute.”
“Will he?” The guy gets up and slides into the chair opposite me, taking Fernando’s place. “Aww, that’s a shame. What is he, your Dad?”
“No, he’s not my Dad,” I say. I want to ask him to leave, but then I think that it doesn’t really matter. We’re leaving as soon as Fernando gets back. If someone takes his seat, it won’t make a difference. It’s not worth starting a scene over.
“You on a date, then?” he asks. Out of the corner of my eye, I realize a few of his friends from his own table have turned to start listening. Good. Maybe they will pull him back and tell him to leave me alone.
“No,” I answer, honestly, though a little slowly because I’m not sure exactly how to describe what it is that we’re on. “Not… really.”
“You single, then?” one of the friends calls over to me, and I realize they aren’t about to save me after all. In fact, they look positively gleeful about the whole situation.
“It’s none of your business,” I say, deciding to opt for a more prickly attitude. I hope Fernando comes back from the bathroom soon, so we can get out of here.
“So, she is,” one of the others says cunningly. There’s a series of whoops from the rest of the table.
“Have a drink with us,” the one sitting opposite me says. “Come on, you’re a pretty girl. Have a drink and then you can show us your tits later.”
“What!” I stare at him, sure I must have heard wrong. Color flames up in my cheeks. How can he just casually say something like that?
“Don’t worry about it,” he says, leaning forward. His hand flops down on the table, so close to mine that I drawback. “It’s all good fun with us. We’ll show you a good time, yeah? I can take you back to my hotel room.”
“We all can,” another one of the men from his table laughs.
I can feel the panic rising up in my throat. Are they really suggesting that I would go with them to be… what, shared around amongst them? Or that I would strip and have sex with the one sitting opposite me just because they’ve given me a few beers?
I push back my chair and make to get up, but it gets stuck on one of the bags full of souvenirs that I bought earlier. I try to move again, but when I look up, I realize the group from the table have stood up and are now surrounding me. Are they trying to stop me from leaving?
My breath comes faster, my heart thumping in my chest. I don’t know what to do. Where’s Fernando? Why isn’t he back yet?
I back away from the ones closest to me, only to feel more of them at my back, laughing as I bump into them.
“Come on,” the one who sat down in front of me first says, sidling closer. He lurches drunkenly when he walks but still manages to hem me in, leaving me hardly any room between him and the one behind me. “Fat girl like you should be grateful to take it when you’re offered it. So, are you going to give it to us, or what?”
I can only stare at him and tremble, trying desperately to think of a way to escape.
Chapter Nine
Fernando
I’m on my way out of the bathroom when this half-drunk American boy pitches into the corridor, blocking my way back into the restaurant.
“Excuse me,” I say, impatiently. I want to get back to Ashley. Even this small amount of time away from her, when we could be together, is too much.
“Wha’?” the guy asks, turning a suspiciously pale face towards me. He’s sweaty, too. I really hope he doesn’t throw up on me.
“You’re in the way,” I say, trying not to yell at him. It probably wouldn’t make a difference to his comprehension, anyway. “Come on. I want to get by you.”
“Yeah, but,” the boy says, somehow finding something in that sentence worth arguing with. “You’re with that girl.”
“Yes, I am,” I say, first annoyed – and then a little spike of fear runs through me. Wait – why would they be paying attention to who I was with?
I’m done with this stupid game, trying to make sense out of someone who has clearly had too much to drink. That’s the problem with these kids who come over here – they don’t have enough experience with drinking yet and they don’t know their limits, and being on vacation allows them to get carried away, and then they go too far. He reels as I push past him, slumping against the wall, but I don’t give him a backward glance as I head back into the restaurant.