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I was vaguely aware of people shouting, no doubt wanting to see more violence. I’d gladly give them all they wanted. I doubted this little prick had been in the rough, back-alley-style fights I’d been in. He’d messed with the wrong fucker.
All I saw was a flurry of motion as my fists connected with Braxton’s face. He kept trying to get me off of him, but he wouldn’t be able to. The beast had overcome me, and I was letting it have it’s time. Then I got the scent of copper, thick blood lacing the air and covering my chest.
But as the world tilted and I just let the motions drive me, I felt people pulling me off. I felt my anger start to take a backseat as everything around me became quiet. It was then that my vision cleared, that I saw the massive crowd of people gathered around. They’d once been rooting for blood but now looked at me like I was a freak.
Let them stare. Let them think the worst. It was that fear that would keep fuckers at bay.
“Come on,” she said, and Harlow’s voice pierced that fogginess that filled my head. She slipped her hand in mine, and I got strength from the touch. I looked back at Braxton. His friends were helping him off the ground, and I got a clear view of his face. Bloody, beaten, swollen, and bruised. He wouldn’t be winning any beauty contests anytime soon. He’d also think twice about harassing a female.
He looked at me but was smart enough to keep his mouth shut and not make this worse, and it would have been so much worse… for him.
“Come on, Aiden,” Harlow said and started pulling me away. People parted for us, keeping a wide berth. The blood that covered my chest wasn’t mine. They’d do well to keep that at the forefront in their minds if they thought I was a pushover, that I’d let shit happen and just stand back and watch like they all had.
Before I knew what was happening, Harlow was all but pushing me into the front seat of my car and holding her hand out.
“Keys,” she said softly, and I handed them over.
I was too buzzed, the alcohol taking the front seat once more as my aggression faded.
I closed my eyes and rested my head back on the seat, hearing the driver side door open, feeling the car gently shift as she sat in the seat. Then the engine rumbled to life as she started the car. We were pulling away just as I opened my eyes and looked out the window, seeing everyone still watching us, some of them with open mouths and looks of shock on their faces.
“I’m sure someone called the police,” I muttered more to myself than to her.
She was silent for a second before she said, “No one will. That’s not the first fight to happen at one of these parties, and it won’t be the last.”
I looked at her, really feeling the alcohol now. “You’ve been to these parties before?”
She shook her head and looked at me. “No, but word spreads fast at school. Besides, if the cops are called, it’ll only draw attention to the fact that Braxton was having a party where illegal drinking, and most likely drug use, was going on.” She shook her head again. “No one will call; believe me.”
I rested my head back on the seat and looked out the window once more. “What about your friend?”
“Pixie?”
I nodded but didn’t look at her. I was humiliated I hadn’t been able to control myself around her, but unashamed that I’d stood up for her.
“She already texted me and said she’s heading out too.”
I ran my hand over my jaw, feeling stubble along my palm. “I’m sorry,” I said softly, not sure she even heard me.
“For what?” There was shock in her voice.
I looked at her then. “For showing you who I really am, and for making a scene like that.”
She shook her head and glanced at me. “Braxton deserved that. He deserves more than that. You did me a favor—hell, did every girl there a favor by beating his ass and putting him in his place.” She tightened her hands on the steering wheel. “I know Pixie is grateful she really saw who he is, the disgusting, vile piece of shit that is Braxton Franklin. Besides, come Monday, no one will even think about it, mainly because Braxton was the one who got his ass kicked and no one wants to have that memory lingering.”
I didn’t care if people did talk about it, if I were being honest.
“Braxton will claim his injuries are from roughhousing, maybe backyard football practice. He’ll go on acting like nothing happened.”
I found myself reaching out and placing my hand over hers, wanting to do more but knowing right now, this was all I should be doing.
