“Let me go.” I say this calmly and politely, reaching to pull his hands off. And one hand does, lifting from my waist—but only to catch my wrist, pinning my arm to my body. The taste of beer is stronger now, and my heart rate is a physical force. “Guy. Stop.” Guy twists me, pulls me closer. His mouth against my ear as he says, “Remi, come on. I told you, you need to lighten up.”
