Page 21 of Conner's Luna

Heavy books.

Trey steps up to Braxton, bumping his chest and jostling me. His fingers brush my waist and I cringe into Braxton, trying to shrug off the limb he's draped over me to no avail.

Trey moves away from me slightly, his fists clenched. "You need to stay away from the nerd," Trey tells Braxton. “And pass the message along to your pack of spoiled trust-fund babies."

Braxton's breathing is steady, his pulse isn't racing, he isn't sweating. None of the typical signs of nervousness even though he's left himself vulnerable to being punched.

"Project partners," Braxton shrugs. "I have to spend time with Bailey. Besides, I like her. She's funny, cute, and smart. The whole package. Not that you would know what it's like to have that kind of girl."

Trey makes an odd, low noise. Shakily, I push my glasses back up on my nose. It sounds like he has a rabid animal trapped in his belly. "Thanks, Braxton," I say hurriedly. "I appreciate the vote of confidence. You're a nice package, too."

Braxton starts laughing again, but Trey turns those hate-filled eyes my way again. "Shut your fucking mouth, you slut."

Braxton's laughter cuts off and he goes stiff. "She's not a slut, Trey," his voice has lowered. "Can't you tell, dumbass?" He turns his head and... smells me?

I go flying one second later towards the concrete block wall. My hands, free of books, come up to take the impact but just before I splatter against the wall I'm caught.

Conner steadies me and places me behind him before leaping into the fray. Trey has Braxton pinned in a stranglehold as the other boy's face turns blue. A large scrape on Braxton's head bleeds freely and his eyelids are fluttering. Conner wrenches Trey's head back into a position that threatens to snap his neck. Trey releases Braxton and the two older men attack each other with a ferocity and speed that I can't even begin to follow.

Braxton slumps against the wall, his head lolling as he takes several deep breaths. "Brax," I kneel next to him and take off my scarf, folding it and pressing it against his head wound. "You may need stitches," I mutter. I look at the skin, already darkening, on his neck and cringe. "And you definitely need to get your neck checked out."

The crashing fight stops abruptly behind me. I turn my head to see the two men separated by others. Trey's friends have grabbed him, and Sean is barely restraining a fuming Conner.

"You fucked up, you prick," Conner snarls toward Trey.

"Keep away from-" Trey's words cut off as a high-pitched shriek pierces the air. Lydia rushes up, tears already streaming down her face. Conner goes still and something that resembles pure agony flashes on his face.

Trey takes Lydia into his arms and stops fighting the guys holding him back. "I'm fine," he reassures her. Lydia's wearing a pair of skin-tight jeans and a flowing white shirt paired with white high heels. Her legs look about a mile long and her ass isn't Puerto-Rican, to say the least. I mentally pat my own voluptuous bum. Some people appreciate fun in the buns, Bailey. Braxton groans softly and I turn my attention swiftly back to him.

"What is wrong with you?" I hear Lydia cry out toward Conner. She takes a trembling step toward Conner and her left foot crinkles something.

I see red, literally because of Braxton and figuratively because those are my notes she's ripping with her out-of-season white shoes.

"He defended his younger brother from a jerk," I snap out.

"Bails," Conner catches me as I storm over, leaving Braxton to clutch his own forehead and stare after me.

"No, you know what, Conner? Brax is bleeding from a head wound and may have damage to his trachea because Trey thinks he can toss insults and act like a bully to people who are smaller than he is."

I look at Trey. He's holding his left shoulder in an uncomfortable position. It possibly dislocated. His lip is split open and there's a bruise on his cheek. Lydia keeps running her French-manicured hands all over his chest and arms. Conner looks better, but his knuckles are raw and as he shifts his weight to keep me from getting closer to Trey, I can see he's favoring his right leg a bit.

It's hard to watch, for some reason, so I wrench my eyes back to Conner. "Let's get you looked at," I tell Conner worriedly. "You and Brax need some medical attention."

"It's not that bad, Bails," Braxton croaks out, coming to stand up next to me.

I huff audibly. "You shouldn't stand up yet," I scold him.

He grins, looking as pale as a ghost but a little less woozy. "Bleedings already stopped. Head wounds bleed a lot."

I look at his forehead in surprise. Reaching up, I gently touch the skin near the wound. Braxton is right, he's not bleeding anymore, and the cut isn't as deep as I thought it was.

"Alright," I say slowly. "You still-"

"Let's go, Lydia," Trey interrupts my fussing in a hard voice. He storms off, for once not letting Lydia hover all over him like a leech. She hurries after him, whining about his injuries and telling him to slow down.

I look at Conner and watch his shoulders slump, head bowed. "Can you bring Brax to the clinic?" I ask him. I look around the hallway. "I need to pick all of this up."

"Sean, take Brax to the clinic," Conner orders his friend. "I'll help you, Bails, and you can tell me what happened."

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