Page 87 of A Little Tempting

Dammit, Dylan! How naive can you be?

I double over, putting my hands on my knees as I force my breathing to slow. It’s cooler outside, and if I wasn’t so pissed about my conversation with Everett, I’d probably freeze, but I like it. The cold. The way it eases my nausea. The way it cools my heated skin and my frazzled nerves.

Breathe.

Folding my arms, I look up at the night sky. Why didn’t I stand up for myself and tell Reeves I wanted to go with him instead of letting Everett and Griffin have any say in the matter? It would’ve made this entire night so much less painful. I shove the thought aside, noticing a new energy inside the building. People rush around, pulling out their cell phones and crowding into the dance area at the back of the hall.

My forehead wrinkles when someone mentions a fight between Reeves and Everett. I don’t even think as my feet move on their own volition. Bodies are sandwiched together, packed tighter and tighter as the sound of flesh hitting flesh mingles with hushed voices and quiet gasps.

“What’s going on?” I ask, pushing between two people. Then, I see it.

Reeves and Ev. Two of my favorite people. Fists up. Shirts rumpled. Hair a mess. Reeves’ knuckles skate across Everett’s jaw, and his head swings to the side, spittle flying from his mouth. He recovers with a blow to Reeves’ stomach. The air’s knocked from his lungs, and he bends forward, taking a shoulder to the gut as Everett tackles him.

“Stop!” I yell. “Fucking stop it, you two!”

They don’t hear me, too lost in the fight, in the pent-up aggression and frustration they ignored for too long.

Somehow, Everett makes it on top, straddling Reeves’ waist. He cocks his arm back, nailing Reeves in the eye. Reeves raises his arms to protect his face while Everett pummels him over and over again.

“Get off him!” I yell, not realizing I’m too close. Much too close. The tussle turns into a full-blown brawl, and they roll into me, the pair of bodies knocking me to the ground. When an elbow slams into my head, I see stars. A sharp pain explodes in my skull, and I groan, curling into a ball beside the chaos. A pair of hands find my waist, dragging me to the edge of the open space while keeping us blocked by the wall of classmates still recording everything.

“Fuck.” Griffin cradles my face. “Dylan? Dylan, are you okay?”

Blinking rapidly, I try to convince my brain to work.

The sounds of flesh hitting flesh escalate further, and the situation crashes into me all over again, so I yell out, “Help them!” I attempt to scramble out of my brother’s embrace and do it myself, but the asshole’s a hell of a lot faster than I am, and he tightens his grip.

“Dylan, stop,” Griffin grits out. Somehow, Reeves is now on top, and his face is twisted with a rage I’ve never seen before. Not on him.

Cross. Jab. Cross. Jab.

Everett’s head rolls back and forth with every hit, making my stomach pitch.

“You need to?—”

“Then stop fighting me, and let me help them without worrying about you doing something stupid. We clear?” He grabs my chin and forces me to look at him instead of the blood pouring from Everett’s nose. “Are. We. Clear?”

I blink in an attempt to erase the haze in my blurry vision. When the view finally comes into focus, my fight dissipates.

“Yeah,” I breathe out. “Yeah, we’re clear. Help them!”

By the time Griffin lets me go, blood and spittle paint Reeves’ knuckles and his once-white dress shirt. His face is also cut up, proving Everett gave as good as he got. My stomach coils as Griffin grabs his friend’s arms, dragging him off a raging Everett as some of his teammates get their heads out of their ass and hold him back.

Where the hell is Maverick?

The familiar sound of heavy footsteps on marble echoes through the stifling library, and the air shifts around us again like a hurricane. In an instant, the teammates who were holding Reeves back disappear into the crowd, leaving Ev, Reeves, Griffin, and me in the circle. The beam of a flashlight is like an icepick to my brain, and I lift my hand to block it as my mind tries to catch up with what’s happening. But I feel like I’m two steps behind. Hell, I feel like I’m ten.

“Put your hands up!” a deep, menacing voice demands, but I’m too dazed to register it, let alone comply. “Hands up, Reeves!” the stranger growls.

Reeves?

The officer knows his name?

My attention snaps to Reeves in the center of the circle. His hands are at his sides, his body poised and ready for another battle. I’m terrified he might throw down all over again, which would be…really, really bad.

“Reeves,” I murmur. His angry gaze snaps to mine, causing the fight to seep out of them. I step closer, moving slowly as a mask of indifference slides into place on Reeves’ bruised face.

“Now!” the officer booms as his hand reaches for his holster.

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