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Garrett took another swing at Thayer, but Thayer ducked and circled his arms around Garrett’s waist. Both boys let out guttural groans, and suddenly they were on the floor, rolling around.
“Stop!” Emma shrieked again.
I watched in horror…but also in awe. I wasn’t sure if two boys had ever fought over me before, and it was kind of flattering.
“Fight!” yelled a scrawny guy in a flannel shirt. Instantly, Hollier students materialized from out of nowhere, gawking at the boys on the ground. Members of the marching band streamed from the auditorium to watch, and kids swarmed from classrooms, forming an amoeba-like cluster around Garrett and Thayer. Half the crowd held up their cell phones to capture the action.
Now the boys were on their feet again. Thayer lunged at Garrett, but a soccer player Emma recognized intervened and yanked Garrett out of the fray. “Stop it, man,” he growled into Garrett’s ear. “Fighting will get you kicked off the team.”
Garrett struggled against him, his eyes blazing and his chest heaving hard. “You’re an ass**le,” he hissed at Thayer.
“So are you,” Thayer spat, standing in the middle of the circle. His nose was dripping blood.
The crowd began to break up as quickly as it had formed. Emma rushed to Thayer and touched his shoulder. “Are you okay?”
“That guy is crazy,” Thayer rasped, catching his breath. He ran a hand over his jaw and winced.
“You shouldn’t have provoked him!” Emma cried.
Thayer rotated his shoulder gently, then met her gaze. “It’s one thing for him to say things about me. But I can’t stand him insulting you.”
A warm feeling swelled in Emma’s stomach, and she felt herself blush. It was kind of touching that Thayer was so chivalrous, standing up for her like that. Even sort of…romantic.
I was touched, too. Especially because he was standing up for me, not my sister.
Someone cleared his throat behind her. Emma turned and saw Ethan nudging through the remnants of the crowd, looking worried and confused. Emma sank into him, relieved Ethan couldn’t read her thoughts. “Hey,” she murmured.
“What’s going on?” he asked. “I heard there was a fight and you were in the middle of it.”
Emma shook her head, glancing from Ethan to Thayer, then back to Ethan again. It felt weird to talk about what the fight was about. “It’s over,” she said simply. “And I’m fine. Thayer was…protecting my honor.”
Ethan glanced at Thayer for a long moment, then he stuck out his hand. “Well, in that case, thanks, man.”
Thayer shook it. “Anytime.”
Then Ethan put his arm around Emma’s shoulders. “Want to get out of here? We could do lunch off campus or something.”
“Okay,” Emma said quietly. She glanced over her shoulder once more to say bye to Thayer and make sure he was okay. But he was gone.
Fifteen minutes later, Ethan pulled his rattling Honda Civic into a parking lot surrounded by ivy-covered trellises and beautiful rose gardens. A quaint restaurant called Le Garçon stood a few feet away in an old Victorian mansion that looked like an overgrown gingerbread house. It was incongruous to see such architecture in adobe-filled, Southwestern-style Tucson, which made it all the more exotic.
“After the week you’ve had, I thought you could use a little break,” Ethan said, leading her into the restaurant. It was cool inside, and smelled like fresh flowers. When Emma’s eyes adjusted to the light, she could see a few tables covered with white linens. Oak beams crisscrossed the ceiling, and tiny vases held light pink roses alongside white Christmas lights. The back doors were flung open to the enormous garden, and a harpist played soft, tinkling notes in the corner.
“Whoa,” Emma said, watching as the waiter passed with trays of rich-looking food. “This seems really fancy, Ethan. And expensive.” She glanced at him worriedly. “Do you want me to pay?”
“Of course not.” Ethan made a face. “I got this covered.”
Emma took his hand as a maître d’ led them to a table.
I was surprised and impressed by Ethan’s choice, too. It was exactly the kind of date I would’ve planned—secluded enough to be romantic, but populated with the right kind of crowd.
They sat down and spread their napkins across their laps. A waiter came by and poured each of them a glass of water, which Emma drank thirstily. Ethan watched her, his chin resting in his hands. “You’re beautiful, you know that?”
“Stop.” Emma ducked her head.
“It’s true,” Ethan insisted. “But you also look tired. Have you been able to sleep at all?”
“Only a little,” Emma admitted quietly. She scanned the room. Aside from a couple of well-dressed women a few tables over, who gave Emma a quick glance and then looked away, the bustling restaurant didn’t seem to notice them. “I just want tomorrow to get here already so I can search Mr. Mercer’s office. I’m sick of biding my time. I want this over with.”
Ethan reached across the table and took her hands. “Of course. But let’s try not to think about it, okay? You need a break—you deserve a little while off the case.”
His voice was gentle but firm, and Emma forced herself to loosen her shoulders. “Okay,” she whispered.
At the next table over, a woman in a tight black dress and a man in a skinny tie studied the wine list. A few people were sitting at the bar, laughing pleasantly. The vibe was understated, but classy. Emma had a feeling her sister would have loved it here.
