Page 4 of Racing Hearts

“Doubtful.” For some reason, my thoughts turn to the dark-haired asshole from the diner.

He was totally my type.

Shame.

I drag my ass out of the art building when the stars are shining. I’m going home to change before we head out, but fuck, I’m exhausted, not to mention the meeting I have tomorrow.

Another thing about this university is the number of clubs—so many fucking clubs.

I’m just wiping my face when I squint into the darkness, making out the figure huddled in the path. Dark-haired and short, she’s familiar.

“Anders?” I call, noticing two burly bastards blocking her path. My eyes narrow, and I stop at her side. “Problem?” I ask her.

She turns her big, haunted brown eyes up to me, eyes I swear I have seen before.

“No, get going,” one of the guys responds.

“I wasn’t asking you,” I snap at him, and then I glance at her, softening my voice at the scared doe expression on her pale face. “Are you okay?”

“They won’t let me pass,” she admits softly in a smoky voice, as if she doesn’t speak much.

I lift my head. They are big bastards with arrogant smirks. It’s obvious they are trouble, but that’s never bothered me. I step in front of her, crossing my arms. “Move and let the lady pass.”

“Lady?” the one on the left scoffs. “We aren’t finished with the lady yet.”

I am too tired for this shit. “Yes, you are, and if I see you messing with her again?—”

“You’ll what?” the one on the right growls, stepping closer. He towers over me, trying to intimidate me with his size. If only he knew I climbed men like him for fun, he wouldn’t be so sure of himself. This one, however, doesn’t want to play. He wants to fight. It’s in his eyes. His anger isn’t necessarily directed at me, but at anyone.

The campus is empty at this time of night, and despite what it may look like, I’m no stranger to a fight. You don’t grow up bisexual in a small town without learning how to take a hit or two and throw a few punches. I don’t like to start shit, not after training for years in martial arts, since my hits could do some serious damage. I have to think carefully, so instead, I warn them.

“Make sure you can’t,” I finish, too tired to verbally spar for once. “Now go.”

“Look at this idiot. Fine, we’ll play with you first.” I see his fist coming and sigh as I sidestep it. Instincts kick in, and I kick out, knocking him backwards as I turn to his friend and duck under his attack before capturing his fist midair, slamming it into his face. He stumbles, shaking his head, so I do it again, and he goes down hard.

“Anders, get back—” I turn to her just as I’m hit from behind. I land on the pavement hard, scratching my arm and face, but I quickly roll us, bringing his arm up behind his back.

“Keep moving and it will break,” I warn, my voice cold, but I hear a scream, and I jerk my head up to see the other guy grabbing Anders.

Releasing the one I have, I get to my feet and advance on the second guy. He tosses Anders away and comes at me as I redirect their attention. I stumble under a punch and have to hold myself back. I’m just about to retaliate when a whistle cuts through the air, and then I stumble back as a blur of muscle hits the guys attacking me and Anders. I stare, slack-jawed, as the tattooed wall of muscle beats the shit out of the two guys.

It’s brutal as the guy snarls, relishing the blood he spills as he pounds both of the idiots into the ground. He doesn’t even stop when they are unconscious.

When he stands, his chest heaving in his leather jacket and his hands dripping with blood, something in my heart kicks. My jeans swell with the pressure, with the beauty this guy just displayed. It was stunning, horrible, and vicious but beauty nonetheless.

Standing, he brushes his curls back and looks at me, his eyes narrowed, and that’s when I realize who he is. It’s none other than the asshole himself. “You,” he hisses.

“You,” I respond with a groan. Seriously, could my night get any worse?

Alek, wasn’t it? That’s where I’ve seen those eyes—on him.

We glare at each other before he tugs Anders to his side. “Are you okay?” he asks her gruffly. “Is he messing with you?”

“No, he was helping me.” She elbows him, seemingly more confident now that he’s here. “Thank you, Evan. I mean it.”

“No problem.” I stick my split knuckles into my pockets with a wince and glare at Alek, my eyes flitting between the two. Curiosity gets the best of me, even though I should just walk away. “Is this your boyfriend?”

“Ew, no. He’s my older brother who really needs to stop assaulting people unless he wants to be arrested again,” she snaps at him.

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