Nothing, and hope that silence is the best choice.
From Create Your Own Story
You don't answer, and he frowns. "Shit, boy, how old are you?"
You tell him, and he shakes his head. "Get up," he says, holding out a hand for you. You take it, and rise, shakily. "Get dressed," he says. You go to the tree branch, hurrying and blushing so red you're sure he'll be able to tell even in the dark.
You get dressed, the muddy boot print against your stomach and balls itchy against the denim. The trucker walks you back to his rig, and as you walk, two more men - really rough looking fellas with bushy beards and thick chests - walk past the two of you.
"What if I hadn't come along?" he says.
You shiver.
"You better smarten up, boy," the trucker in the red jersey says. "Guys like them don't take 'no' for an answer."
He helps you climb up into his rig, and you pull out of the parking lot. Once you're on the main highway, he asks you where your home is, and you tell him. He turns at the next main exit, and you watch the way he holds the wheel with one hand, noticing how thick his hairy forearms are. His bald head is a little wet with sweat, and you can't help but notice the bulge in his jeans.
You bite your lip.
You...
