“It was rhetorical. Do you know what that means?” she asks. “It’s a question that’s said in order to make a point. A figure of speech.”
My eyes bug. Wow, she’s hostile. Must have something to do with our conversation about being treated older and then younger. Why else would she go off on him?
“I didn’t know,” he says with the tilt ofhishead. “Do you know what that is? Sarcasm.” He edges in her face a little. Taller than her by about four or five inches.
She raises her chin, holding her own. “You’re hilarious,” she deadpans.
His eyebrow arches. “I guess you do know what sarcasm is then.” He pries the cup out of her hand, his muscles relaxing in his broad shoulders. “What is this shit anyway?” He sniffs it and cringes. “That’s fucking foul.”
“Hunch punch,” she tells him. “It’s kind of strong. I’ve only had a glass and a half.” Her eyes droop a little though, but she seems coherent. Not yet drunk. Maybe buzzed. I decided not to drink because alcohol loosens inhibitions, and mine need to be padlocked.
Suddenly, two guys start yelling in the middle of the dance floor. Their girlfriends try to pull them back, grabbing onto their thick muscles, but they can’t restrain them as they begin to barrel forward.
“Really?” Daisy shakes her head at the scene. And before I digest the abrupt fight, her boots clap against the hardwood and she slides between bodies to reach the two furious guys.
She’s crazy. My sister is flat-out nuts. Dear God.
Tattooed Guy pushes Tan Guy.
“What the fuck is your sister doing?” Ryke asks, and when we see Daisy physically inject herself between the two guys, Ryke curses under his breath and dashes in her path between the bodies. I follow close behind, grabbing onto his shirt so I don’t lose him.
Daisy throws her hands out between both guys.
“Get out of my fucking way!” Tattooed Guy shouts at her.
“Bryan. Come on, what are you going to do? Punch him?” She’s not even a little scared of being hit in the crossfire. And then I wonder:what if she wants to be?This is so messed up.
“Stay out of it, Daisy!” he shouts. “That fucker, he slept with Heidi.” A redhead tries to touch his shoulder, but he swats her away. A circle opens around them while people on the outskirts stare—like the two guys are Danny Zuko and Sandy Olsen, about to perform an epic dance.
Only this one will include fists and kicks and probably blood.
“She’s a fucking liar!” Tan Guy yells, veins pulsing in his large neck.
I stay a safe distance away, too afraid of Tan Guy who looks ready to beat the living shit out of Bryan for even suggesting he fucked some other girl.
Daisy keeps her hands up between them, separating their bodies, but her eyelids continue to sag. She wobbles a little, but she stands upright. Is she drunk? But she barely drank anything, and this seems to be hitting her really hard all of a sudden.
Ryke edges forward into the “fighting area” and places a hand on Daisy’s shoulder. “Go.”
“They’re not punching each other here,” she tells him. “This is stupid.”
His lips find her ear, and I hear him say, “This isn’t your fucking fight, Daisy. Let it go.”
She weakly pushes him off, swaying too much, and then points at Bryan. “You think you’re a man?” she snorts. “You hit him and then what? The other guy hits you back and you’ll feel better?”
“Shut the fuck up,” Bryan tells her.
Ryke shoots him the worst possible glare, one that could seriously shift mountains. Then his eyes drop back to Daisy. “Move.”
She stares at Bryan in challenge. “You want to hit him? Get through me.”
“Daisy!” I shout. Yep, she wants to be hit. To feel something, maybe. I don’t know, but she’s scaring me.
And that’s when Tan Guy charges from behind. Ryke shoves her out of the way, and she falls on her knees while he takes a punch to the jaw. I shimmy around the crowd, people cheering and grimacing as Bryan knees Tan Guy and Ryke tries to fight his way out of their feud.
Daisy has already picked herself up off the floor, wiping her hands on her green army jacket. “Lily?” she stumbles into my chest. We push our way out towards the kitchen area, able to breathe in the open air.
“Are you crazy?” I yell at her. “You don’t provoke guys to hit you.”
