“What is Lil gonna think when she sees you like this?” Brandon asks.
I stop midair, my fist trembling. Lil. Her face flashes in my mind.
At least this time, she’ll remember.
“Go on, Barron.” Jason’s lips form a broken, victorious smile. “I know you want to.”
I start to lower my fist, then clench it tighter, my knuckles whitening.
Right as I want to strike, arms lock around my chest, yanking me backward with a force that lifts me off Jason. I thrash against the hold, my body rebelling, desperate to finish what I started.
Coach’s face appears in front of me. “Barron, what the hell is wrong with you?”
I’m breathing hard, each inhale a stab, each exhale a growl. What’s wrong with me? Everything. Nothing. I don’t fucking know anymore. My eyes flick to Jason, who staggers to his feet, lip split and nose bloody. But he’s grinning like a madman.
Did they? After everything that’s happened, after the way I’ve hurt her, why wouldn’t she seek comfort in someone else’s arms?
“You’re done. Hit the infirmary and get out of my sight,” Coach says. “You too, Campbell.”
Jason and I glare at each other, walking off the field.
My knuckles throb, and I taste blood in my mouth, and as pissed as I am, I also feel satisfied. He should stay the hell away from Lil.
The nurse shoots us a disapproving look, shaking her head. “Honestly, what am I going to do with you two?” She sits Jason down and examines his nose. “You’re lucky, it’s not broken.”
“Guess you lost your touch, Barron.”
“You—”
“No fighting in here. Sebastian, behind the curtain, please.” She hands me an ice pack. “I’ll be with you in a second.”
I’m not in the mood to see his smug face anyway. I slump into a chair behind the curtain, pressing the ice pack against my cheek.
It takes me back to that night when Lil punched me. I didn’t need it then, but damn if she didn’t look so worried and adorable fussing over me. Her hands were so gentle, those eyes wide with concern. I couldn’t help but tease her a little to see that pretty blush on her cheeks.
And when we kissed… fuck, I knew I was in trouble. I couldn’t get enough of her soft lips, her sweet taste. I wanted to drown in her, lose myself completely.
But then she pulled away, all flustered and apologetic. It was fucking endearing. I knew right then I had to have her. I didn’t care about the complications or the consequences. I wanted her.
And now, here I am, nursing a bruised face and ego, all because of her. Because I can’t stand the thought of anyone else touching her, especially not that prick Jason.
I lean my head back against the wall, closing my eyes. I miss her. I miss her so much it physically hurts. I need to fix this. I don’t care about our families or their fucked-up history. I only care about her.
The curtain rustles, and I open my eyes, half-expecting to see her standing there, ready to patch me up again. But it’s the nurse looking at me with a mix of pity and exasperation.
“Let’s take a look at that face of yours.” She lifts the ice pack to examine my face. Her fingers prod gently at my cheek and jaw. “You’ll have some bruising, but nothing’s broken.” She hands me back the ice pack. “Keep this on for a while.”
I nod, holding it against my face. The nurse’s phone rings, and she steps away to answer it. I catch snippets of her conversation. Something about an emergency.
She comes back, looking hurried. “I have to step out for a bit. You two behave yourselves while I’m gone, understand?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Jason says from behind the curtain.
I roll my eyes. Kiss-ass.
The nurse leaves, and I lean back in the chair, closing my eyes again and letting the ice do its thing.
The door opens again.