He’s still talking. “Using her? Forcing her to blow you?”

“I didn’t force her.” I quickly amend that when I realize what it implies. “Nothing happened, man. It was a misunderstanding, and the cops let us go. But even if something did happen, you’d have no right to be pissed. You guys aren’t together anymore.”

“We’re not together right now,” he qualifies. “We’ll get back together. We always do.”

“Is that so,” I drawl.

“You don’t know a damn thing about our history.”

“I know you cheated on her at a frat party.”

Nico’s eyes flash. “She tell you that?”

“Nah, I saw you, man.”

A brief silence travels between us. Then Nico hisses again. “Wait, it was you? You’re the asshole who told her about the chick at the party?”

“What the hell does it matter? She was going to find out anyway, Nico. She was already going to find out about your other screw-up because you’re too stupid to delete a Wi-Fi password.”

“Who the fuck you calling stupid?”

He charges at me, and I dodge him, taking several steps back. “I’m just saying, you did this to yourself. If you want someone to blame, go look in the mirror.”

“You ratted me out.” Nico glances over his shoulder at his buddies, each of whom has his arms crossed. “This puta ratted me out, can you believe that? You’re a real prick, Davenport.”

“I’m the prick? You cheated on your girlfriend.”

“You broke the bro code,” he spits back.

“You’re not my bro.” I take another backward step. “Are we done here?”

Before I can blink, his arm shoots out. He grabs the collar of my winter coat, tugging me toward him. His face is inches from mine, the white puffs of his alcohol-scented breath chilling my face.

“Nico,” I warn.

A spiteful smile stretches across his angry face. Beyond his shoulders, I spy his buddies closing in on us.

“Get your hands off me,” I say in a deadly voice.

His smile widens. “Or what?”

 

 

23

 

 

Hunter

 

 

“The way I see it, there’s five of us and only one of you.” Nico chuckles, his dark eyes glinting with impending violence. “Sure, you’re the hockey guy. I bet you can fight real good. But can you take all five of us?”

I know I can’t. I glance toward Matt’s front door. It’s closed, and the pulsing music thudding in the house tells me that even if I shouted for backup, nobody would hear me. My best hope is that someone decides to brave the early December chill, come out to smoke a cigarette or a joint, and throw me an assist.

But what I’d prefer happen is that I defuse this bomb before it goes off in the first place.

“Look, Nico. You seem like a cool guy. You made a mistake, and there’s no need for violence, okay? Even if I didn’t tell Demi about the party, she would’ve found out through her friend. But you’re right—what I did went against the bro code. I should’ve kept my mouth shut.”

“Damn right you should have.”

“So I’m sorry for that, okay? With that said, you really need to take your hands off me.” Adrenaline is already surging in my bloodstream. Nico’s right—hockey players are no strangers to fighting. I’ve gotten into scraps on the ice, and off of it. I can hold my own in most physical confrontations.

But not when it’s five against one.

“Sorry, jock boy, but you’re not getting off that easy.” Nico chuckles.

“For chrissake, man, you’re gonna punish me when you’re the moron who cheated on your woman—”

The first blow cuts me off and sends my head rearing back. His fist crunches against my jaw, a jolt of pain shooting down my neck. Just as I straighten out, two of his buddies are suddenly behind me, locking my arms behind my back. Presenting me like a juicy carcass to a pissed-off hyena.

Nico cracks the knuckles of his right hand, then the left. “All I’m saying is, us men need to stick together. And the fuckers who don’t, deserve to get their ass whupped.”

His second punch collides with the corner of my mouth.

I taste blood. I spit it out onto the pavement. “Get your punches in,” I tell him in a resigned tone. “If that’s what makes you feel better. But it’s not gonna bring Demi back and it’s not gonna change the fact that you’re a sack of shit—”

The next blow gets me in the ribs.

Fuck.

My side is already sore from a hit I took in the game tonight, and now my entire ribcage is throbbing and I’m goddamn pissed. The anger brings another jolt of adrenaline that enables me to scramble out of the iron-hold on me. I elbow one of Nico’s friends in the throat, manage to land a punch in another one’s stomach, but then my body is thrown back like a rag doll, and they all swarm again.

“What the hell!” someone shouts from the porch.

The cavalry has arrived.

Matt comes tearing down the frost-covered lawn. More shouts and angry curses fill the night as six more hockey players race toward the curb. Someone grabs me and shoves me aside. Nico and his cronies retreat, creating about three feet of distance as the two groups face off with each other. My bottom lip is caked with blood. Nico’s ragged breaths exit his mouth in rapid puffs.

“Go home,” I tell him.

“Fuck you,” he snaps.

“You really don’t want to stick around, Nico. You’re the one who’s outnumbered now, and there’s already been enough violence tonight, okay?” I drag my forearm over my mouth to sop up the blood. “Just get out of here.”

“Stay away from my girl.”

She’s not your girl, I want to say, but I resist the urge to provoke him.

Beside me, Conor takes a slight step forward. “Leave,” he drawls, and despite the laidback tone, his expression is deadlier than I’ve ever seen it.

It has the desired effect. Nico spits on the ground, and then he and his friends stalk off toward a nearby truck. I watch them go, hoping that the shitshow is truly over and this wasn’t just the first act.

 

 

I’m cleaning my face in the hall bathroom when I hear the commotion beyond the door. My shoulders instantly tense. Nico had better not be back—

“Is he in there? Hunter, are you in there!”

I relax at the familiar voice. “In here,” I call out.

I’d left the door slightly ajar, and Demi wastes no time pushing it open. She appears in all her fierce glory, hands on hips, eyes on fire.

“I’m going to kill him!” she thunders when she sees my face. “Are you okay? I cannot believe he did this!”

“How’d you find out what happened?” I frown. “And how’d you get here?”

“I called a campus taxi right after Brenna called.”

Frickin’ Brenna. With impeccable timing, she’d shown up just as we were all trudging inside after the fight. She must’ve phoned Demi before she’d even taken off her coat.

“You’re bleeding,” Demi frets. “Brenna said you weren’t badly hurt.”