Page 60 of Back Outside Edge

Another voice says something at my shoulder, hand on my arm. Gentle, not restraining me, but I recognize how that hand feels on me. I'd recognize it anywhere, anytime. "Evan. Calm down."

As if the phrase has ever worked in the history of ever. "No." I whirl around on Stefan, though he's the last person I should be mad at right now. "He doesn't get to do this to you."

"He already did."

The statement, delivered in a cool, unruffled voice that isn't his at all, is enough to make me break down. Tears of anger are blurring my vision, and I shake my head again, but with less violence this time. "He can't just do that. It's wrong."

"I know. But punching him won't help. Trust me on that one." A wry smile tilts his mouth at the last sentence, which does more to calm me down than anything he's said. Because if anybody knows, it's Stefan.

I whirl back around to Alexandre, but the fight has drained out of me. "You will not get away with this."

Alexandre smirks again, but with something different in it. Something a little less sure. "I didn't do anything wrong. Public place. Anyone could take a picture. Maybe you should have been more careful."

It brings the anger flaring back in a heartbeat.

I’m mad at him, but I’m mad at us, too. Stefan could have been more circumspect, I could have sent him away instead of meeting with him. As soon as I'd seen him last night, though, all I wanted was my hands on him. I all but forgot Stefan isn’t out and we’re keeping our relationship secret as soon as we touched. We might not have been obvious about it, but we weren’t careful enough. Not nearly.

The worst part is that Stefan is going to be the one who pays for this, even if the rest of the world figures out who the mystery guy is. Nobody cares what my sexuality is. I'm not exactly out, but I'm not in the closet either. Everyone important to me already knows I’m bi, and I’m not big enough news for the media or skating authorities to care.

Somehow, despite everything that's happened in the last few minutes, I'm still holding my plate of breakfast foods.

Nobody is holding on to me anymore, thinking I’ve calmed down.

So I take my syrup drenched plate and flip it. Directly on top of Alexandre's big, egotistical, asshole head.

Chapter 25

Stefan

In a more rational state of mind, I might have had a little sympathy for Alexandre. What he did was horrific, obviously. I’m the one who’s going to pay the price for it. I’m the one who’s already paying the price for it. But seeing him with eggs and French toast mashed into his hair, maple syrup running down his face in thick rivulets... For a second, I'm caught between laughter and surprise. Then his expression darkens, he starts to stand, his fist bunching, and it's all over.

The first time I punched Alexandre Boudreaux was because he told me I was a one-trick pony and a failure. Things I've told myself more than a few times. But he said it at the worst possible moment, given I was already in the middle of an alcohol-fueled rage.

This time when I punch Alexandre Boudreaux, it's because he's looking at my boyfriend with murder in his eyes. And because he made Evan so upset that he cursed. I've never once heard Evan say anything stronger than 'hell'.

I don't even think about it. Don't have time to practice any of the many, many techniques that I usually use. Don't remember that ten seconds ago I was the one restraining Evan from doing this exact thing. I’m as surprised as everyone else when it happens.

I just pop him, out of nowhere. Straight in that annoying, overly chiseled jaw.

At least this time he can’t accuse me of breaking his nose.

Alexandre's perfect jaw all but crumples under my fist. He goes straight down, falling to the floor with a whoosh of expelled air. Which is good because now he's not going to hit Evan. Not so good because I've just punched Alexandre again. Which is really bad for my skating career. Maybe even my freedom. If he presses charges again, will I go to jail?

Fuck.

Evan's the one holding my arm now, as if he's worried that he has to hold me back. But he doesn't need to. I've come to my senses. About two seconds too late, but here they are.

I back up one step and then a second. Will Alexandre come up swinging? If so, I don't want to be even more involved in a fight. He doesn't. He just lies on the floor looking pitiful. Covered in breakfast foods, his jaw already starting to redden where I punched him. Is he whimpering?

Knowing Alexandre, it's a ploy for sympathy. Just the thought makes me want to move in, punch him a second time. If even I had a flash of sympathy for him for a moment, how's everyone else going to feel? I'm going to be the bad guy here, no matter what he did.

Evan seems to sense my intention, and his arms tighten. He's holding me around the waist now. When did that happen? Even in the middle of this absolute disaster of a mess, having him at my back is comfortable, settling. But it's too little, too late.

Out of nowhere, my mom and dad are flanking me as well, glaring down at Alexandre alongside Evan and me. Which should be enough to quell anyone, but Alexandre has never been famous for his self-awareness.

Fuck, maybe I should thank him for being such an asshole. Dad hasn't so much as looked at me since news of the post broke, and now he's standing at my side.

On the other hand, he's the reason Dad's pissed at me in the first place, so maybe not so much.