My eyes fly open.
"What the f**k, Ryder? Was that really necessary?"
He shakes his head.
"No, Camille. It wasn't. Now come on."
"Hell no!"
"You know I'll get you to my car whether you say yes or no, right?"
"You obviously know nothing about consent. And no, I'm not going anywhere with a f*****g piece of s**t like you."
"Do I have to keep reminding you that you are a married woman, and whatever you're doing here right now is f*****g wrong?"
"Do I have to remind you that you're not my f*****g husband, and you're not my moral detective? If you don't leave, I'll.. I will..."
"What will you do, Camille?"
I swallow a sharp breath. My heart is racing. I want to punch Ryder, or kick him in the groin.
Or both.
But I can't.
First, I'm too drunk to coordinate my reflexes, and second
