Page 119 of Something in Between

But Royce responds. “I’m not Mason,” he says loudly. “You know, just because my dad is who he is, doesn’t mean I’m a jerk.”

“It’s not like that,” I whisper fiercely, wishing he wouldn’t raise his voice. “He was just hurt by her. Your brother’s an easy target.”

“I don’t care!” Royce says. “I’m not my brother.”

Dylan and a couple of others have noticed Royce’s outburst. They come over.

“Everything okay, Jas?” Dylan asks.

“Of course she’s fine—she’s my girlfriend,” Royce answers angrily. “What’s it to you?”

“Well, Jas is my friend too, and it just so happens that I’ve got a problem with people like you,” Dylan says, brushing his long blond hair out of his eyes.

Royce steps toward Dylan and pushes up his shirtsleeves. “And who are people like me?” He’s tense, and there’s a dangerous glint in his dark eyes.

I’m anxious to keep them from attacking each other. I don’t want Royce to fight with my friends even if I’m proud of him for standing up for himself.

“Why don’t you just get out of here,” Dylan says. “You’re bothering people.”

“Dylan! Don’t be rude!” I say. “Stop it! Both of you!”

“You have a problem with me? You don’t even know me!” Royce says, jabbing a finger toward Dylan.

“Royce,” I plead. I know I can’t do anything about Dylan, but I can try to get Royce to calm down before the evening is ruined. “Stop. What are you trying to prove?”

“Man. You’re just a fake,” Dylan says, then nods toward me. “The minute Jas is shipped off to the Philippines you’ll forget all about her. Guys like you are all the same.”

That does it. Royce takes a swing at Dylan, who takes the hit and throws one back, connecting with the right side of Royce’s face, sending him to the floor. I scream at them to stop, but Royce wipes his chin, gets up, and charges Dylan with a waist tackle.

“Stop!” I keep yelling. It always seems romantic in movies when guys fight over girls, or for their honor. But this is just stupid. I’m mad at them both for letting it get out of hand.

As they go crashing into a bookshelf I hover around Kayla. I try to cover her in case they come flying our way. “Royce!” I scream. “Dylan! STOP!” No one listens. The two are tumbling over each other. Royce lands a punch, then Dylan rolls on top and gets his own punches in.

By the time Lo rushes into the room, Dylan and Royce are on their feet again, except other guys at the party are holding them both back. I’m mortified. I can’t even look at Royce.

“Screw you guys,” Royce spits. “Let me go.”

“Yeah, let him go so he can run home to Beverly Hills,” Dylan says, bleeding from his nose.

Royce’s mouth drips blood from a cut. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“I’m with you,” Dylan says. “Let’s finish this.”

Lo, fuming, gets in both their faces. “Are you losers done? The only one who’s going to finish this is me, right now. I’ll kick you both out.”

“Man, let me go,” Royce says, jerking against the guys tightening their grips on him.

“Let him go,” Dylan says. “He messed up my jacket! I’m going to kill him!”

“Come get me, then!” Royce says, taunting him. “I’m right here!”

I’ve never seen Lo angrier. She’s whirling and screaming at both of them. “I said shut up! I’m not letting either one of you idiots ruin this party. You want to fight? Go down to Stoney Point! I don’t want any fighting here. I expected better from you, Dylan!”

Royce is breathing heavily. Dylan too.

Lo gets into Dylan’s face. “You’re done. Got it?”

Dylan starts to complain, but she cuts him off. “Enough!” she says. “You gonna chill? Do you really want to leave your band hanging? Or embarrass yourself any further?”

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