“Fuck.” It comes out hushed as he hurriedly sends a message to his cousin before pushing his phone back into his pocket.
“Relax.”
From two yards away, his gaze shifts to me. His adrenaline is probably finally starting to crash, and the last thing he wants is to be told to chill. Add in the fact that we were just lip locked not five minutes ago, and I’d be willing to bet I’m right. He looks like he’s about to say something when the back door flings open, his cousin’s eyes bouncing between us before Tristan, Webber, and Sylvia follow him out.
Sebastian is the first to speak. “Got your text, but I spotted you two before you came out this way. What the fuck happened in there?”
My gaze drops to the ground because by sharing what truly happened means calling Sylvia out on her shit, and I’m not sure I’m ready to deal with that when she’s been drinking. Especially when I can’t seem to stop thinking about Colson’s mouth on mine or the way my belly was near detonation when his fingertips tickled down my wrists.
Colson plants his palms on his waist. “Some guy was trying to take advantage of Violet.”
“And that’s cause enough to throw fists?” Tristan questions, eyebrows raised.
“Wait,” I say, “What are you doing here?”
I wasn’t expecting to see any of the guys tonight, so the fact Colson appeared out of thin air when I needed help was a shock to my system, one I’m still recovering from.
“To find Everleigh.”
I shake my head. “She went home a little bit ago.”
“Damn, really?”
I nod. “She was thinking about going to your place. I don’t know if she did or not, but?—”
“Fuck, I need to get out of here,” is all he says next. Desperation drips off him, and even I can recognize his worry of fucking it up beyond repair this time. “I assume you all got whatever happened in there covered?”
Sebastian nods in reassurance before Tristan grabs his phone from his pocket and jogs out of the alleyway.
“Does that mean I can get back to my night, too?” Sylvia questions, annoyance thick in her tone.
Colson rubs his hands over his face, spinning in a circle with his face to the sky. “Jesus fucking Christ.”
It’s enough to get Sylvia’s attention. Her face snaps to him, and the look of disgust that mars her features is about an inch short of offing the man. “Excuse me?”
I swallow the ball that forms in my throat, hating how it feels when it hits my stomach and mimics the nerves of first-day-of-work jitters.
Between Running Back having his hands on me, Colson stepping in and handling business, and then having a full on make-out session with him where no one could see us, I’m a mess.
“Come on, guys,” Sebastian interferes with an apologetic look on his face. “We’re just trying to get to the bottom of what went down in there. I grabbed you all because I thought it’d be helpful if we handled it together.”
“Should’ve left them inside,” is what Colson mutters.
Webber lifts his head, his eyes regarding me for the briefest second before they’re on Colson. Sylvia takes a step toward Sebastian’s cousin as if he’s the bad guy. Never mind the fact that none of this would be happening if it weren’t for her and Fletcher.
See,I want to tell her.This is proof that the quarterback of Chatham U is bad news.
“No need to mumble how you really feel,” Sylvia quips. “Whatever you have to say, please, say it. Let it all out, cousin.”
“Sylvia,” I step in. “Stop. You can go back to Fletcher.”
“Nope.” She pops the p and holds her hand up to silence me. “I want to hear what he has to say. If he’s going to talk shit, then the least he can do is say it to our faces. Don’t you think?”
Colson’s blue eyes mingle with mine, but he’s not asking for permission to speak his mind. It’s more like he’s taken aback by how rude Sylvia is being. His brow rises and he shakes his head, barking out a humorless laugh. “You want me to give it to you straight?”
Sylvia answers him with a pointed look. Sebastian twists in place and blows out a breath. Webber remains quiet. His best bet.
My body thrums with the tension bouncing around the four of us. With the way Sylvia and Colson are looking at each other, you’d think they were on the battlefield, ready to machete each other’s heads clean off.
