Page 136 of The Stud

“Fight or fuck response,” echoes the other one.

“You don’t know it ‘cause you don’t usually fight,” states the twin standing.

“It’s just science shit,” backs his brother that’s sitting.

“That cannot possibly be scientific.”

“Sure, it is.” He drapes the towel over his padless shoulders. “You light the mental lamp in yourbrainskiesand then yourbodyeither wants to fight or fuck, aye.”

“And if you doonebut it doesn’t switch off then it means you still need to do the other.”

They’re nodding in tandem is attached to once more firmly claiming, “Fight or fuck response.”

There’s no stopping my glare from narrowing as Cap and I lock eyes. “Why does that make bloody sense?”

“’Cause it’sscience,” Wahl chuckles during his walk by. “Duh.”

One of his shoulders bounces on another bite. “Ponyatiya ne imeyu, no...” he swallows the hunk in his mouth, “they’re right. You need to flip that switch to get your head back in the game.”

“Too bad your Slayer’s in Montana or Michigan or Manitoba or wherever they said,” Wahl grabs his own half of sando to shove into his mouth. “Means you just gotta take a penalty shot.”

Knowing the truth rolls my head back around to meet Cap’s glare. “I need ten.”

He aggressively sinks his teeth into the snack and grumbles, “Sem'.”

“Deal.”

We slap palms twice and cross shoulder bump on a loud “ra”.

Ducking out of the locker room for seven minutes practically unnoticed isn’t difficult.

And to my pleasant surprise, neither is finding my Slayer who happens to be at the very end of hall as if secretly hoping I would pop out to see her.

Who knows.

Perhaps she was.

Perhaps seeing me drop the gloves flipped some sort of switch inside her too.

Although, I highly doubt it.

That shit is most likely not actually scientific.

Just…jockatific.

“Holyfuck…” Arden loudly proclaims during her slip around security. “That was…” Excitement and disbelief fuse together in her headshaking. “Best ass whooping all fucking season!”

Snatching her palm, the second she’s within reach is speedily followed by stumbling down the hall.

“Definitely one for the highlight reel!”

Checking the first door we pass doesn’t reveal the result I’m desperate for.

“Did you knock one of his teeth out or just break his nose?!”

And neither does the next.

“That much blood on the ice was a bitch to get up by the way.”

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