“Delete it.”
“Or what?”
Danny moves toward him, and I grab his arm.
“Don’t.”
But the guy’s still talking. “What’s-s the problem? You ashamed or something? Fucking que?—“
Danny lunges for him before he can get the word out.
He grabs for the phone. The guy yanks it back and yells “assault” loud enough to draw attention of people passing by.
Danny doesn’t hit him. He just tries to get the phone.
But the guy’s friends appear. Now there are four of them, one drunker than the next and very fucking aggressive.
One shoves Danny hard. “Back off. We don’t wanna see that shit. And nobody else does, either.”
Danny goes still. “What did you say?”
“You heard me, queers. It’s disgusting, two guys making out in public where families can see?—”
Danny’s fist connects with his jaw.
Then it erupts into chaos. Yelling, phones recording, the guy’s friends grabbing Danny, me trying to pull him back, someone calling security.
By the time hotel security arrives, at least six phones are recording this shit show.
The guy Danny hit is on the ground. His friends are yelling assault. Danny’s bleeding from his lip.
My phone buzzes in my pocket. I ignore it. It buzzes again. And again.
I finally pull it out. Three missed calls from my father. Two texts.
Where are you?
Noah, answer your phone.
I shove the phone back in my pocket.
And I’m standing there knowing that everything just got caught on camera.
We’re so fucking done.
CHAPTER 22
DANNY
The first videohits social media before we even leave the hotel.
I sit in the hotel security office with Noah, head of security, and the four drunk assholes who started this whole thing. My lip’s still bleeding. My knuckles are split. And my phone won’t stop buzzing.
Security’s reviewing footage from the hotel cameras while the drunk guy who recorded us kissing sits there with a smug look on his face.
“He attacked me,” the guy says. “Unprovoked. I wanna to press charges.”
“Bullshit,” I say. “You called us?—”
