“Did you have something to say?” she snapped.
He flicked his cigarette onto the concrete and ground it out with a sneaker. “Just surprised to see you two still hooking up.”
“We’re nothooking up,” she said, scathing. “Nick’s my boyfriend.”
“Uh-huh.” Brent sucked on his false tooth. “Well, just be careful you don’t climb on top, later. I’m not sure thatboyfriendof yours can survive those thighs you’ve got going on.”
Everyone in Brent’s entourage twittered. Except Gina, who looked scandalized, and Gallant, who frowned.
Nick stepped forward, his eyes cold. “Hey, dickface. You can talk shit to me, but not to my girlfriend. And you definitely can’t make asshole comments about her body.”
“Oh yeah? Or what? Ooh, wait, I know.” Brent waved his hands in mock terror. “You’re going to bust out your karate shit and make me say sorry? Oh, no, anything but that.”
Sour rage flooded Aubrey’s tongue. She started to move, but Nick looped long fingers around her wrist and tugged her back.
“That’s exactly what’s going to happen.” He spoke flatly, devoid of emotion. “Because I’m not leaving until you apologize. So you can either do it with that nice, pretty face you have now, or with a busted lip.”
Brent spat on the concrete. “Come on. Cut the crap. Everyone knows you cheated when you fought Gallant.”
“Do they.”
“Yeah.” Brent glanced to his friend. “Right?”
Gallant blinked, then slid his gaze sideways, as if seeking an escape. “Right.”
Heat swarmed Aubrey’s stomach. She wanted to ask how someone could cheat at something that had no rules, but it would have wasted a breath.
“Your choice,” Nick said.
Brent cracked his knuckles. “You know what? Let’s do it. If anyone’s apologizing here, it’s going to be you, to Gallant. I don’t like it when people mess with my friends, and it’s about time someone set the record straight.”
Nick broke into a wolfish smile. “Finally. Something we agree on.”
Aubrey should have stepped in. Or, more accurately, she should havewantedto step in. But some feral corner of her vibrated with pride, because she hated bullies. She especially detested anyone who tried to elevate themselves by dominating others.
Nick stalked to the center of the bandstand and motioned for Brent to approach. His face was a cold, hard mask, but she glimpsed the secret underneath. The hint of anticipation glittering in the depths.
Still, she braced. She knew who would throw the first punch—who wouldalwaysthrow the first punch—and phantom pain bloomed when Brent slammed his fist into Nick’s eye.
But she curled her nails into her palms and stayed out of it. Sure enough, Nick recovered in moments, throwing himself into the fight with dark, bullish grace.
The scuffle lasted half as long as Gallant’s. Inside of a minute, Nick had Brent’s cheek mashed against a column, his arm wrenched behind his back at an angle that reminded Aubrey of twisting off turkey legs at Thanksgiving.
“Any time now.” Nick yanked.
Brent yelped and cast wild eyes at his friends. None of them moved. Blood dribbled from Brent’s nose, making blotches on his yellow polo. “Uh... yeah. Sorry, MacLean.”
Nick did something to Brent’s arm that elicited another whimper. “We’re not in the army, asshole. Her name’s Aubrey.”
“Right. Aubrey. Sorry, Aubrey.”
“For?” Nick prompted.
“I, uh, I didn’t mean anything bad about your thighs. I mean, only that they’re really powerful. They have to be, right? Everyone’s seen that thing you do at halftime, where—”
“Jesus.” Nick made a disgusted sound and thrust Brent away. He toppled into his friends, who caught him more out of sheer surprise than anything else.
Nick turned to Aubrey and threaded his fingers through hers. Brent’s opening punch had split the skin beneath one perfect brow, and the wound leaked blood into his eye and down his shirtfront.
