© 2024 Diane Ascrit
The question "What is the answer to the Ultimate Question of Life, the Universe, and Everything?" in Chapter 21 was last week's hidden reference. The question was asked in the book The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy and the answer was 42, but Ilana felt differently about it 😂
I had a crazy tiring week and this chapter almost didn't see the light of day, but I thought I couldn't push back meeting Noah for one more week.
So here it is 😉~~~~
☎️ CHAPTER 22: Don't be like that☎️
I cleared my throat to grab Mitch's attention and tried to ignore the appreciative look he gave my body.
I said, in what I hoped to be a confident voice: "I thought you should know that one of your guests is acting inappropriately, and made me feel, um, unsafe," I whispered the last word. "I think his name is Mike."
He laughed it off, angling his body towards me "What did Mike do this time?"
This time?
He knew that guy was a creep and he still invited him to his parties. You sure know how to throw a party, Mitch. He didn't seem one bit worried or shocked and I was starting to think that this was a bad idea, after all.
Seeing that I didn't answer his question right away and that I looked quite stunned, he asked another one, giving me a pointed look "It's not that big a deal. Nothing bad bad happened, right?"
Well, in all truth, nothing bad bad had happened and I was, ironically, grateful for that, but I had still felt taken advantage of. Being disregarded like that made it even worse.
"Nothing? He touched me without my consent," I said in a low but revolted voice, not wanting all of his friends to hear. They were too busy chatting among themselves anyway.
"Don't be like that," Mitch smiled again, "Mike was just having some harmless fun."
He uttered those words while patting my shoulder in a horribly patronizing way. The same shoulder his guest had slammed against the wall. The one that was still throbbing because of the impact and that stung ever more with the weight of Mitch's hand and words.
If I didn't really like Mitch before, I had no residual respect or sympathy for him: he entertained that kind of people, defended them, took no action and diminished my feelings. I shook off his hand that was still on my shoulder, gave him one last glare, and ran again, towards the exit.
At least I tried.
I would have liked, at that moment, to run straight home, but it was like all strength had abandoned me and I was on the verge of collapsing. I walked on the front lawn until I reached the gate that was open on the street.
I went out of the garden, leaned on the outside part of the hedge and took a huge breath.
"Hey, are you okay?" A masculine voice called me out. I hadn't noticed that someone else was there, resting on the hedge too.
I instinctively took a step aside, away from the voice. There were just so many negative interactions with the male population I could bear in one night.
Then I glanced up, way up because the guy was tall, and saw that it was Hanower. He was making no gesture to corner me or condescendingly pat me on the shoulder.
I stared at him, trying to determine whether I could trust him. He looked devilishly good wearing black T-shirt and jeans. I had never seen him from this close and I was used to seeing him in sportswear.

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