TW: SA. I tried to make the scene quick, but still thought it important to put a warning! From paragraph 8-13. Also, don't hate me for this chapter!

Also, I noticed many people are split between who they support/want for Ruth, but our hearts are never easy to ignore, especially when it comes to their current partner and old! As someone who struggled through similar issues, Ruth's place is not easy to be in. She's human, just as we all are, with very human emotions. Imperfect people are my favorite people to write! And no matter what, I love my girl. Ruth is honestly my favorite character I've ever written, and that's with her flaws!

Anyway, enjoy!

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Streams of music and incoherent lyrics pounded through Ruth's ears and radiated throughout her intoxicated body. The strong pump of the bass was so loud, she wore the sound was going to tear right through her chest. Sweaty, exhilarated bodies bumped into her off and on, but the warm shots of Jameson stopped her from caring about that. She smiled and laughed with the group of girls she had come to adore and was stuck in a grinding pit between Peyton and Katrina, or Kat for short. With her curls down her back, and her sparkly white dress that clung to her legs with a hefty slit on the side, she felt on top of the world.

Terry and Jana, coming straight from the bar, each had shots for themselves and the rest of the girls around them. They both passed out shots with clear liquid sitting in shot glasses and with a whooping cheer, they all toasted each other in honor of Jana's wedding.

"I'M GETTING MARRIED BITCHHHEEEES," Jana shouted, her voice hardly heard over the club music, but all the girls screamed anyway. Pushing her curled hair over her shoulders, she snapped her neck back and took the shot in one fell swallow before Ruth followed suit.

The burn of the alcohol wasn't as strong as the other four shots and two drinks she had already swallowed down beforehand, but it still did the job. Her worries muddled and her carefree emotions rose to the surface instead. For another hour, they all danced their night away. With their hands woven together and their bodies feeling the vibe, it was a mystery they were able to ward off any of the random guys itching to get behind one of them. Somehow, they twirled and blocked each other perfectly, and at some point, Cheyenne even pushed a guy who was practically latched onto Ruth's body. She gave the beautiful brown-skin girl a thankful smile and earned a friendly wink in return.

"I got you, girl," Chey had mouthed.

"WE NEED ANOTHER SHOT BEFORE THE GUYS—" Jana was screaming, but Ruth only heard and cared about the shot portion of the sentence.

At some point in the next forty-five minutes, Ruth had wandered off from the dance floor in search of a bathroom to wash the alcohol Kat accidently spilled off her dress. The bar was littered with eager guests as she stumbled and weaved her way through what felt like thousands of bodies pushing against her the closer she got to the bathroom hallway. It was like fighting the powerful pull of an unexpected current, and before she could register what was happening, a shark latched itself onto her arm and spun her around into an unfamiliarly icy embrace. She gasped and her hands fell on a chest belonging to an older guy with a wicked grin as she tried her best to get her vision back. He couldn't have been over 35 from what she saw, but the sight of him touching her made her cringe.

"Hey," he drawled, the stench of alcohol wafting into her nostrils from the proximity. She uncomfortably and very clumsy tried to push his chest away from her, but considering her intoxication, she wasn't doing a very good job. "You're pretty."

"Let go of me," she hissed through her teeth.

He gripped her chin and forced her head to the side where two other men were standing there with beer in hand, watching her. She swallowed thickly, but the fear in her head was fuzzy and distant, wavering with each second the disgusting men stood there.

"Ain't she pretty, fellas?" he grinned.

One of the other men's blue eyes traced down her body disgustingly. "Very pretty."

Ruth elbowed his chest and he swore, loosening his grip on her face. His other hand, however, stayed gripped around her waist, tightening in the midst of his anger. Brown eyes blazing, he went to take a step backwards towards the hallway, malicious intentions lingering in his expression as his other hand wandered along her resisting body. Panicked and completely intoxicated, she went to open her mouth to scream, but another hand grabbed at her waist and yanked her back from the perpetrator.

"WHAT THE FUCK!" A vaguely familiar voice shouted.

She fell back into a hard body that was shaking with unconcealed rage. Her mind still groggy, she grabbed at the soft shirt beneath her ear and blinked up at the new man whose arm was wrapped protectively around her body. Everything slowed for her, and her body turned to a relieved mush.

Wait, she shouldn't be relieved.

She should be angry. Very angry.

But, much to her embarrassment, she found herself struggling not to get caught up in the feel of Raffo against her again. She couldn't even focus on the words that were spewing between Raffo and the guy he was trying to strangle to death if it weren't for her tight grip on him.

"Raffo, don't," she slurred. Fuck, she needed to sober up and quick. But trying to tell a drunk person to sober up the night they were drinking was like waiting for the grass to grow.

"You fucking sick bastard," Raffo spat at the guy. Before Ruth could stop him, he grabbed the collar of the guy's shirt with his free hand and twisted the fabric tight enough to choke him. His friends were nowhere to be seen, minding their own business. Some friends. "I'm gonna fucking kill you."

Ruth quickly woke up at that. Not wanting things to escalate more than they already had, she did the only thing she could think of to save the man's life and get the hell out of there before security kicked them out. She elbowed Raffo as hard as she could to release his grip on the creep, and then turned her body so she could then knee said-creep in the place where the sun don't shine.

Ballseye, she thought to herself in amusement as the purple-faced dude bent over.

Before he could recover, or his asshole friends could come to his aid, Ruth grabbed Raffo's hand and pulled them towards the hallway. Though she didn't think washing her dress out was important anymore, she knew she needed to talk to him and distract him. If she didn't, she knew he'd have no trouble finding that guy again and hurting him for what he was . . .

Ruth couldn't even finish that disgusting thought. Maybe it was time for her to head back to her and Terry's room.

When they were over by the elevators, Ruth finally dropped Raffo's hand as if suddenly remembering what she was doing and spun around to face him. The world took a moment to settle, and when it finally did, she crossed her arms and gave him her best irritated glare. She wasn't so sure if she did it well, considering she could barely stand without swaying, but she hoped she didn't look as foolish as she felt.

"What are you doing here?" she huffed, blinking away the haze from the corners of her vision.

Raffo's jaw was still clenched from what had transpired earlier, and his glare was much more heated than hers. "Eddie's bachelor party. Why were you by yourself in a sleezy ass club's hallway? No one came with you?"

"First of all, I wasn't in the hallway. Not that it's any of your business," she said, finding it easier to argue than explaining how going to the bathroom by herself was a bad idea.

Ruth swayed on her feet again and he lurched forward to grab her, his arm saving her from falling over. She didn't like the warmth that filled her body at that and she wanted nothing more than to go back to hating him. Being mad at him was much easier than being thankful for him being there. She didn't want the relief. The relief reminded her drunk mind of late night basketball court sessions and apartment rendezvous when her cousins weren't around.

"I can handle myself," she slurred instead, trying and failing to push Raffo away from her.

"Clearly, you can't in this state," Raffo snapped, rolling his eyes. His arm locked around her waist to help her stand upright, which was nearly impossible before he did that.

"Don't touch me, traitor," she hissed.

Raffo moved his head back while still keeping his arm around her, his eyebrows furrowed in something bordering on confusion and hurt. "Traitor?" he scoffed.

Fuck, had she really said that out loud?

"Don't worry about it," she murmured.

With his free hand, he put his thumb under her chin and gently forced her head up, capturing her gaze. Despite the fuzzy blur around his head from the effects of too many drinks, his fiery brown eyes and clenched jaw of steel made her breath hitch. Much to her horror, her eyes fall to caress his lips, and she found her own parting slightly. She didn't miss the way the tip of his thumb faintly, as soft as a butterfly's wing, ran below her bottom lip.

"Why am I a traitor, Ruth?" he demanded, his voice husky.

A spark of guilty warmth pools between her legs, and it took everything in her to focus. She needed to get her shit together and fast, before she went passed the point of caring. She'd never verbally admit it, but right now, she was there.

"Because another woman is carrying your child," Ruth whispered, though it came out as more of a whimper.

That catches him off guard. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "Wait. Mirana?"

She almost rolled her eyes with impatience. Just the name bothered her, more than she cared to admit. "Yes, Mirana."

Raffo opened and closed his mouth a few times, his eyebrows pushed together. The shock pried his delectable mouth open for the last time, and for a sinful, intoxicated moment, where her mind slipped into a place it shouldn't have, Ruth imagined all of what she could do with it—

"Why would you care if I was having a baby with Mirana?" he finally forced out. Something in his expression was eager now, challenging and searching.

"I don't," she lied. Then she blinked and accused, "So, it's true then."

She went to step away from him, but his grip tightened. He only shook his head, a laugh teasing at the corners of his lips. "No."

It was Ruth's turn to furrow her eyebrows now. "No?"

"No," he confirmed. "Mirana and I aren't together, and we are most definitely not having a kid together."

Ruth felt . . . stupid. Dumb. Like an idiot. For many reasons, really. But the main one had to be over the relief that flooded her body at his words. It took her a few seconds to process them, but as soon as they were processed, she knew she couldn't do anything with them. What was she supposed to do? To say now? It was easier for her to assume and not have known the real truth. Because now that she does, she felt . . . weird.

"Well . . . even if it was or wasn't true . . . it changes nothing," Ruth lied stubbornly, her drawl slow with the slow-motion movement of her jaw.

Raffo shot out a harsh breath. "How many times . . . I didn't want to leave you, Ruth. I never did, even when I swore I wouldn't interfere with your life. But I'm not going to stand here and argue with you while you're drunk."

Interfere with my life?

"I'm—I'm not that drunk," she lied, blinking through her blurry vision.

He shook his head with a sigh. "What floor are you on?"

Ruth frustratingly went to open her mouth to deny him, but by the way the world swirled around her and the way she couldn't stand upright without his arm around her waist, she knew walking alone wasn't a great idea. The handsy guy and his friends who tried to grab her had proved that enough. So she drowsily told him the floor and room number, knowing Terry was off with Johnny somewhere in the casino, anyway. No one would have to know that he helped her.

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