Mercy

Patrick #1 has his arm around in her in the booth, the red vinyl deeply cracked and rubbing her underthigh the wrong way, tearing her pantyhose, she could feel it. He is getting closer and closer as their friends begin to arrive, he is putting his arm down, he is feeling her shoulder. He puts his arm on her arm. He puts his arm on his side and puts his hand on her thigh. He puts his hand up her leg, under the hem of her skirt. Their friends do not notice. She pushes his arm away, and away. She pushes his arm away so many times she finally loses count after demanding of herself that she would keep track to tell him in the morning, o Patrick, don't you remember, you were practically trying to fist me in public.

He takes her hand and puts it on his crotch. Two of the girls that have themselves flanked with pink lipstick and around the waists of two of their best butch girlfriends notice and giggle behind pink-nailed hands. They whisper something but the music is loud and maybe Mercy is just thinking she is seeing that they are whispering about her exboyfriend trying to get her to give him a handjob at the bar in the middle of the evening.

She orders a round of shots for everyone, something that smells like liquourice and tastes like death.
She orders one more round but just for her and Patrick #1.

Patrick #1 kisses her neck, moves her hair away from her face, it is long and flowing, always so flowing, some girl last week told her that it reminded the girl of an American Apparel advertisement, how all the girls have long flowing wavy hair. Patrick #1 is kissing her and she feels herself blush.
Stop, she says. Stop right now. I don't care. I don't want you to. Stop.

It is the end of the night, the pink-lipped, pink-nailed girls are making out with their butch friends as the house lights are turned up and the bartender yells to get the hell out. She and Patrick #1 don't stop to say good-bye. They don't search for the rest of their friends. They check to make sure they have their phones and keys and wallets and thread fingers and leave.

Patrick #1 is holding her ass in his hand as she walks and she breaks from him. He runs behind her and grabs both of her asscheeks in his hands and she screams and laughs and runs. He catches her and lifts her onto the lawn next to them of some random neighborhood house. Her laughs fade into Stop, stop, right now, quit, get off me, stop, Patrick, stop Patrick stop Patrick stop Patrick Stop. He is holding her arms down with his knees.

Mercy kicks her legs up and hits his back. He yells in surprise more than pain. He falls off her, over into the lawn, laughing. Ow, he says. Ow, that really fucking hurt. You're a good shot.

Fuck you, Mercy says.

Fuck you, that's not funny.

Mercy grabs her wallet and phone from where they had fallen out of her pockets, pulls her hair up into a ponytail and starts running towards their houses. Mercy is running and can hear Patrick #1 yelling for her wait, Mercy, wait, I'm sorry Mercy, I'm sorry Mercy, come back here, I'm sorry.