Tristan’s too.
A dozen faces turned.
The ocean crashed behind us like applause from a very dramatic God.
I limped the last few steps into the open space between them, ignoring Drew’s instant flash of concern when he saw the way I was favoring my leg.
“Isa,” he said.
I pointed at him. “No.”
His mouth shut.
Good.
Progress.
Then I turned to Tristan.
“You,” I said. “Are being an ass.”
His face tightened.
I did not care.
“You don’t get to decide you care about my love life now because watching Drew stand next to me makes you uncomfortable. You had weeks to choose me. You didn’t. Fine. That is your right. But do not stand here pretending your sudden concern is noble when half of it is guilt and the other half is ego.”
The silence sharpened.
Tristan looked like I’d slapped him.
Maybe I had.
Then I turned to Drew.
“And you.”
His expression had already shifted from anger to something worse.
Worried.
“Also an ass.”
Jace made a strangled sound behind him.
Drew shot him a look.
I kept going. “I do not need you fighting my battles in front of the entire athletic department like I’m some broken little thing men get to pass around and defend. I appreciate that you care.”
His face changed at that.
I hated that I noticed.
“But if you ever speak over me like this again,” I said, “I will take your own helmet and beat you with it.”
Dante coughed.
Someone near the fire whispered, “Damn.”
