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“Oh, hell no!” someone shouts.
“Fight!”
Screams and shouting go off in the crowd, curses coming from the team. I straddle my brother and hit him again, my knuckles knocking the back of his hand as he shields himself.
He doesn’t stay down for long, though. His friends try to catch my arms, but Kade wraps one of his around my waist and hauls me off. Rearing his fist back, he punches me across the face, and I barrel into him, planting my shoulder in his stomach.
We crash back to the pavement, my hands scraping against the hard ground.
“You boys stop it!” a woman cries.
Someone calls out over the loudspeaker, “Break it up, break it up!”
And then Dylan is there, her arms around me. “Stop.” She comes in between us. “Please stop.”
I rise to my feet, Kade doing the same as more fights start around us, Rebels and Pirates never needing an excuse to join in on the fun.
“He needs to stop!” I tell her. “Aren’t you pissed? He made you think it was me with another girl in my bed? Don’t you have anything to say to him?”
He deserves this, and she needs to understand why.
But she just looks at me, her misty eyes hiding under my cap. I see her trembling lips, though.
“Dylan doesn’t want to be mad at anybody,” Kade says. “You never really did see her, did you? She always had my back.”
“And I had her in a way you never will,” I spit back.
Silence seems to fall around us, people still moving and fighting, the parade massacred.
But I don’t hear any of it, and the words have left my mouth and I can’t get them back.
All I feel are Dylan’s eyes.
I blink.No.I didn’t just say that. She’s not a competition. I didn’t beat Kade at anything by getting her into bed.
But that’s how it just sounded.
I look at her in time to see a tear spill down her cheek. She starts to back up, and I grab her to take her into my arms, but she shoves me away and runs.
She runs away, so fast, disappearing into the crowd.
Dylan
I went to the only place I wanted to be. Not to the Loop. Not to a friend or to Aro or to Quinn.
Home.
I climb up the tree between my house and Hawke’s, not really trying to hide, but thankful for the cover.
And for the view.
The street where I learned to ride a bike. A street that looks amazing covered in fall leaves in a neighborhood that smells great on a summer night filled with grass, grills, and bug spray.
I can barely look up, though. Tears drip onto my hands as I play with the button on my shirt.
I thought maybe I loved him.
I don’t.
