Page 8 of Still Jaded (Jaded 2)

"You—dick!" I tried to hit him. I could almost reach him. I squirmed over Bryce's shoulder, but he grunted and wrapped a tighter arm around me. When I kicked him in the groin, Bryce gasped and heaved a breath. His arms went lax for a moment, and I was free.

Corrigan fell back another step.

I barreled into him. He went down and I fell on top of him. I punched his jaw and heaved back for another hit. Corrigan stayed there, but Bryce caught my arm and yanked me back in the air. He lifted me, cradling me against his chest as he pinned my arms and legs.

I struggled but couldn't move.

I snarled, "Is that what you think? I've got issues? If anyone should have issues, it's you. He almost killed you, remember?! He stabbed you. You were in the hospital—"

"Enough!" Bryce growled and shoved through the crowd. "Move!"

Then, he carried me out of the house and past the watching crowd.

CHAPTER FIVE

We drove home in silence. When Bryce wheeled into the garage, he turned off the engine, but we both stayed in our seats. Then he took a deep breath. "What is going on between you and Corrigan?"

I shrugged and moved to get out of the car. Bryce reached out and hauled me back.

"What?" I glared and shoved off his hand. I got out and stormed into the house only to curse when I heard the doorbell ring.

"Not funny!" I shouted and ignored it to go into the kitchen. As I opened the fridge and reached for a beer, Bryce asked as he turned the corner, "What's not funny?"

I ignored him, opened the beer, and tipped my head back for a long drink.

And the doorbell rang again.

Bryce looked towards it. "What the hell?"

"I thought that was you."

"I'm having flashbacks to Mena and her dumbass brother," Bryce grumbled as he left to answer it.

I heard Grace's voice and groaned. I was fast losing friends, but I could win this one back. I pushed off the corner, beer in hand, but stopped when I met her in the doorway.

She wore a yellow sweater over plain blue jeans. As she ran a nervous hand through her thin hair, I swallowed. Grace was scared. It was my fault. There was no question about that. She was strong about everything except Corrigan, and I'd trampled on that without even meaning to do it.

My impulsive behavior was not sensitive sometimes.

"I am an awful homosapien," I blurted out.

Grace frowned and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "Homosapien? I'm here because of class. I'm sorry that…why are you awful?"

"Because I told our class that you had feelings for Corrigan. I don't even know if you really do, and I opened my mouth without thinking. I'm sorry, Grace. I really am."

"Oh." She looked taken aback. "I'm here because I overreacted. You're right. I do have feelings for Corrigan, and I should be able to talk about them, at least with you because you're one of my best friends. But you're also his best friend and I never wanted to put you in the middle, but I you already knew about my feelings…and I just didn't know what to say." Her voice trailed off for a moment. "I'm sorry that I ran out of class. And I'm sorry that I haven't called to see how you've been doing since Bryce got back, but I wasn't sure if he was back. Although, I guess I know he is now since he opened the door…" Then she looked around.

"He's probably watching football downstairs or something. Don't worry about it."

"Oh." Grace didn't look reassured, but she moved to perch on a counter stool. "He's…I'd forgotten what Bryce Scout is like in person."

I laughed as I remembered Bryce's flashback about Mena.

"What?" Grace was confused.

I shrugged. "It's nothing. I—just—Bryce mentioned Mena and I remembered how she used to feel the same thing. I think she was scared of him."

Grace shifted to get comfortable on the stool. "He's not the friendliest person. He was okay towards the end, but he only tolerated me. I knew that. But, still, seeing him again—he's not the friendliest guy."

"He's just protective." And he was, but only when it came to my female friends. Bryce had never warmed up to Grace, not even after she and I got close the summer before he left for Europe. When I asked him about it, he shrugged and replied that he wasn't sure about girls sometimes. I didn't know what he'd meant, and I'd never asked.

Just then, Bryce walked into the kitchen. "You gotta see something." He reached for my beer and rotated on his heel. He walked down the stairs before I could comprehend what he'd said. Or realized he'd taken my beer.

I grabbed another beer and headed after him. Grace trailed behind. I heard the television, and my stomach clenched. I already knew what I was going to see.

On the screen was an image of Bryce as he carried me out of the frat house. An anchor narrated how witnesses overheard Sheldon Jeneve, high school sweetheart to the Sun's newest striker Bryce Scout, exchange insults and assault another former high school classmate. The anchor continued to speculate as to whether the authorities would get involved, if the still unidentified victim would press charges, and if it had anything to do with the rumors that Bryce Scout had had an affair with Spanish model Guadalupe?

"I hated that bitch. You slept with her?"

"No!" Bryce cried out. He pointed at the television. "Is that all you heard? My supposed infidelity? We have worse problems, Sheldon. They caught you on tape at the house."

I shrugged. "Corrigan's not going to press charges."

"Wait—what?!" Grace exclaimed.

She was ignored.

Bryce pressed, "I don't care about that. The media have us on their radar. I don't want a repeat of what happened in Spain."

"I never asked to be stalked. And really, they should learn what it's like to have their pictures taken and their privacy violated."

Bryce threw his hands in the air. "You followed a reporter to his home and videotaped him giving oral sex to his mistress. That's over the line. You were lucky he didn't press charges."

I crossed my arms over my chest and leaned against one of the couches.

Grace sighed. "Oh no. I know that face."

Bryce straightened. "Sheldon, what did you do to that reporter?"

"You never asked before. Why ask now?"

"What did you do?"

I clipped out, "That girl wasn't his mistress. She was his daughter's underage friend. They've got laws over there too. I used that law, and it worked. It got him off our backs."

"You never told me any of that."

Bryce was tense, too tense. I frowned. "You didn't need to know. You didn't need to know any of it. You were there to play soccer. You played soccer. You did your job. And my job—I did my job."

"Oh God," Bryce mumbled and shook his head. "What else did you do? Do I even want to know?"

"What do you expect?" I yelled. My heart should've been pounding. It wasn't. I had a cold feeling in my gut. It was stuck there and refused to move. "What I do with my boyfriend is no one else's business. No one needs to know if I eat salad or meat at some restaurant. They shouldn't speculate if I'm sick because I'm pregnant, if that's why I skipped a championship game. It's my life. It's my privacy. Hell yeah, I'm going to do something to protect it."

Bryce looked at me like I was an alien, like I made no sense to him. And then his expression changed. I blinked at the sudden

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