Then another.
It’s a flurry of fists I can’t keep up with.
Who’s winning? I have no idea.
“Wesley, it’s okay, you can stop hitting him.”
It’s too late.
The Wesley that likes a good fight has taken over, that black veil settling over his eyes, every hit urging him on more and more.
“Listen to the girl before it’s too late,” the guy drawls out, blood dripping from his lips and onto his yellow teeth.
Wesley somehow jumps to his feet, fists still curled and waiting.
“Go the fuck home,” Wesley growls.
“Not until I feel that bitch’s lips over my dick.” He staggers to his feet, wiping at the blood on his lips.
Damn, this is gonna be bad.
Wesley surges forward without warning, like a rocket being launched into orbit. He grabs the guy by the waist and sends him flying. He goes skidding across the floor just as the crowd erupts into terrified screams.
The man never stood a chance. People move as Wesley marches across the room, his boots echoing after the suddenly cut off music. His murderous gaze is focused on one person… the guy scrambling to his feet, just below the table where Amber and Eddie are sitting.
The man barely regains balance before Wesley cocks back and nails him right in the nose, fixing it back into place, but also breaking it in the process. He stumbles into a nearby table, blood gushing from his nose like lava burbling out of a volcano.
I’m paralyzed in place, watching the horror show unfold.
This is all my fault.
The noise starts to dull, even though the crowd has started chanting, “Fight! Fight! Fight!” over and over again, taking me back to prom night and everything ugly that came with it. I barely hear it. The haze surrounding me like a welcomed fog.
“Touch her again, and I’ll fucking murder you,” Wesley growls, voice feral with finality.
I reach out to grab Wesley but realize that I’m not close enough. Everything seems too damn far away. Especially him.
The guy spits blood onto the floor near Amber’s feet, and she recoils in disgust. He grins through split lips. “You seemed to be doing just fine for yourself, asshole. Why the fuck are you stepping in where you aren’t needed?”
The redhead from earlier slinks away, phone pressed to her ear, throwing daggers from her eyes as she passes me.
“Whore,” she hisses, hip checking me just a tad.
I’m too far gone to register it.
“Because I know exactly who the fuck you are,” Wesley barks, stepping forward again. “And if you ever touch my friend again, I’ll break more than your jaw.”
When did he break his jaw? So now the guy has a broken jaw and nose? Oof, this drug is making me feel woozy.
The man gets in a solid hit, cracking Wesley in the cheek, but barely budging him. Wesley scrubs at his jaw, then sumo’s him to the ground. The guy’s head hits the hardwood floor so hard it sounds empty. Then he just starts swinging, making sure each punch counts.
More blood.
It’s everywhere.
On his knuckles,
On their faces.
