Marcus spat blood onto the deck. “Worth it,” he said.
I turned away from him, from all of it. My ribs ached. My face hurt. Everything hurt.
I needed another beer. Needed to not think about the way Liam had looked at me—that flash of something before it went cold.
Because there was nothing left to think about.
Nothing at all.
Chapter 7: Liam
Emily’s hand was warm in mine as we walked back to her dorm.
“That was insane,” she said for the third time. Her cheeks were flushed—from the cold, from the beer, from the adrenaline still buzzing through both of us. “I can’t believe Marcus actually said that shit to Remy.”
The word echoed in my head.Faggot.The way Marcus had spat it out like poison.
A familiar heat rose in my chest, that old Moore anger.
Remy didn’t flinch. Didn’t apologize for existing. Just stood there, five-foot-five of pure fuck-you confidence, and took up all the space in the world.
I wish I could be like that. Honest with who I was...
The thought hit me sideways. Sharp and uncomfortable.
What the hell did that even mean?
Nothing. It meant nothing. I’d defended my teammate. That’s what I did. Marcus was a dick, Remy didn’t deserve that shit, and I’d wanted to hit Marcus for years anyway.
Simple.
“Yeah.” My knuckles were still sore from connecting with his face. “Guy’s always been a dick.”
“You didn’t even hesitate.” She squeezed my hand, looked up at me with something bright in her eyes. “You just—boom. Dropped him.”
I laughed, some of the tension finally starting to drain from my shoulders. “Seemed like the thing to do.”
“It was.” She was quiet for a second, then added, “That was really brave, Liam. Standing up for Remy like that.”
“He watches out for me and I watch out for him.”
She tugged me closer as we crossed the quad toward her dorm at Patterson Hall.
“It was the right thing to do. Even if it was stupid and reckless and you could’ve gotten actually hurt,” she said.
“I didn’t get hurt.”
“You got elbowed. I saw it.”
“Barely felt it.” That was a lie. My ribs were going to be sore as hell tomorrow. But right now, riding the high of victory and violence and Emily’s hand in mine, I felt invincible.
We reached Patterson Hall. Emily swiped her student ID, pulled me through the lobby. A few people were scattered around—someone watching TV with headphones on, a couple studying at one of the tables.
I hit the button for the elevator and the doors opened immediately and we stepped in and Emily hit the button for the fourth floor.
As soon as the doors closed, she turned to me, grabbed the front of my shirt, and pulled me down into a kiss.
I made a surprised sound against her mouth, but then my hands found her waist and I was kissing her back. Hard. She tasted like cheap beer and mint gum, and when she bit my bottom lip I groaned.
