Hell, in reality it’s the other way around. I glance up at the balcony, unable to stop myself. I expect to see Ashtyn snuggled up all cozy with Landon on that red couch.

But Ashtyn doesn’t look happy to be sitting next to her boyfriend. Landon’s got his fingers tightly wrapped around Ashtyn’s arm. It looks like she’s trying to pull away, but he’s got a solid hold and won’t release her. She looks alarmed and upset and . . . she winces in pain.

Fuck!

With rage firing an adrenaline rush, I shove through the crowd and rush to the stairs. There’s no way I’m about to let him hurt her on my watch. I don’t give a shit if she wants me to stay out of her business.

I eye the big bouncer blocking the roped-off VIP section leading to the second story. “Two chicks are fightin’ over there.” I point to the center of the room. “You better get there quick, ’cause I think one of ’em is gettin’ her dress ripped off her.”

The bouncer abandons his post. I jump the VIP rope. As I take the stairs two at a time, I see Ashtyn rake her nails clear down her boyfriend’s cheek.

Landon drops her arm as he touches his face and realizes she’s cut him. She stands proud and tall, eyeing him in disgust. His gaze darts left and right, taking notice of everyone staring. He’s pissed now and has his hand raised as if he’s about to hit her.

I rush toward Ashtyn and plant myself between her and Landon before he has a chance to touch her. “Lay a hand on her and I’ll kick the everlovin’ shit out of you,” I say with a vengeance, my hands in fists at my sides ready to fight.

“You want a piece of me?” Landon challenges, shoving me. He looks me up and down as if I’m insignificant.

I shove back. “Man, I’ve wanted a piece of you since I first met you,” I say. This is the point of no return. McKnight isn’t about to back down, and there’s no way in hell I’m letting him get away with hurting Ashtyn.

“Get your hands off me!” Ashtyn screams from behind me. Her frantic voice jerks my attention to her.

Panic jolts through me as I see her being held by one of Bonk’s friends. She’s trying to claw and kick her way out of his grip, but the dude is twice her size.

When my head is turned, McKnight lands a solid right hook to my jaw. Shit, that hurt. I lost focus and made myself vulnerable. If there’s one thing I learned fighting in Regents’ boxing club, it’s never take your eyes off your opponent.

Time to get back in the game.

I punch Landon and make sure he’s on the floor before I glance back at Ashtyn. Bonk is barreling toward me with fury written all over his face and five guys backing him. I lunge for the guy holding Ashtyn, but Bonk and his posse cut me off.

“That’s the guy who took the picture,” Bonk announces to his friends. He aims a punch at me, but I’m too fast and dodge his fist.

I land a solid one to his side, but his friends pull me away. They restrain me while I struggle and Bonk pummels me. I fight to get loose, but there’s like six guys holding me. I can’t get free. Bonk is having a field day. I taste my own blood from my busted lip, and even though I get a good kick in and Bonk flies backward, it doesn’t matter because another one of his friends is right there to pick up where he left off.

I know how to dodge punches, but not with four guys holding me back. I’m breathing hard and starting to get dizzy. Then Trey and a bunch of guys on the Fremont football team join the fight. They rip the guys off me and start pummeling their rivals. The entire balcony is in chaos, with fists flying and security trying to break it up.

I scan the crowd desperately for Ashtyn. She’s managed to break free of the guy who’d been holding her, so I get between her and the fighting and lead her to an alcove. “Stay here,” I tell her, then turn to help Trey and the guys.

I should know better than to trust that Ashtyn will listen to me, because I see her clutch at Bonk’s arm as he’s about to fight Victor. I grab Bonk and pull him back, hoping that Ashtyn will be scared enough to go back to the alcove.

“Are you ever gonna listen to me?” I ask her.

She shakes her head and says simply, “No.”

Chapter 22

Ashtyn

I’m devastated. And shocked. And mad and hurt. But I’m not some diva who needs to be rescued by Derek. I’m about to jump onto the back of a Fairfield player when someone comes up behind me and throws me to the ground.

Before I can get up, Derek is there to pull me to my feet. His mouth is a bloody mess and his face is bruised. “Shit, Ashtyn. Why didn’t you hide off to the side where you’d be safe?”

By now huge bouncers are flocking up the stairs.

“Leave me alone.” I shove him away.

“Like hell I will. I’m gettin’ you out of here.” He slings me over his shoulder and muscles through the crowd.

“Let me go, you jerk,” I say, attempting to squirm out of his grasp. “I don’t need your help.”

He doesn’t answer. Instead, he takes me outside and puts me down in front of his car. “Get in the car. Now.” I open my mouth to protest, but he puts a hand up. “Don’t argue with me.”

I sit in the car stewing about everything that happened, while Derek goes to talk to the guys just now coming out of the club. Vic looks all too happy that he arrived just in time for the brawl. Bree’s fingers gently trail down Derek’s bruised face as her perfectly shaped eyebrows furrow with compassion.

“Bree, you’re laying it on thick,” I mumble to myself.

Trey and Monika leave in Trey’s car while Derek opens the backseat for his date.

“Thanks.” Bree slides in the car. “Oh, my God, Ashtyn! Can you believe what just happened? Those guys from Fairfield are just awful. I feel so sorry for Derek. I mean, did you see how many of those Fairfield guys it took to hold him down?”

“I wasn’t counting.”

“It was four, or maybe five!”

Derek is in the car now. He’s holding his side and moving slowly.

“You okay to drive?” I ask.

“I’m fine.”

“You sure? Because your face looks like a piece of raw meat.”

“Uh-huh.” He pulls out of the parking lot as if the fight never happened and he doesn’t have bloodstains on his clothes or a busted-up lip. I watch as Bree reaches through the headrest and caresses Derek’s shoulders, occasionally slipping her fingers under his collar in a not-so-subtle flirty way. When he glances at me, I pretend to look at something super interesting out the window.

It isn’t long before he pulls into Bree’s driveway and he’s walking her to her front door.

“Don’t kiss her,” I mumble. “Your mouth is bleeding, and it’s unsanitary and gross.” And I don’t want you to like her. Please don’t kiss her. And don’t have any physical contact with her, either. Just walk away. Walk. Away. Like now would be a great time.

I want to avert my eyes from the two silhouettes, but I can’t. Bree is an experienced flirter and isn’t subtle. She’s a girl who’s used to getting whatever guy she wants. She has the perfect body, perfect face, perfect hair. She’s feminine, is a cheerleader, and laughs a lot. Bree wraps her arms around Derek’s neck and he pulls her in for a short hug. Then he must’ve said something funny, because she laughs and puts her hand on his chest. Does she have to touch him every two seconds?

I’m tempted to honk the horn, but it’s late and I’m not sure Bree’s neighbors will be happy if I wake them up. Finally Bree walks in her house and Derek comes back to the car.

“Took you long enough,” I say in a huff as he slowly slides in the driver’s seat, wincing in pain.

“You’re kiddin’ me, right?”

I don’t answer, because my feelings are as raw as his face. I’m aware I’m acting immature and irrational. Truth is, I don’t want him to be with Bree. I’m jealous and vulnerable and dealing with Landon’s betrayal and the knowledge that I’ve got feelings for Derek and he’s probably got the hots for Bree.

“Bree’s really pretty,” I mumble.

“Yep.”

“Do you like her?”

“She’s cool.”

He doesn’t get it.

When he pulls into our driveway, I want to tell him what I’m feeling. The problem is I have no clue what to say—my mind is a jumble of emotions that don’t make sense. He’d probably laugh at me and run in the opposite direction if I told him I didn’t want him going out with Bree.

I open my mouth to express something more than animosity toward him, but all that comes out is, “I could’ve handled Landon myself.”

He swipes his bloody mouth with the back of his hand. “You keep tellin’ yourself that and you might actually start believin’ it.”

Ashtyn, tell him you’re developing feelings for him. Tell Derek that seeing him beat up scares you. Tell him you want to hold him. Tell him that you need him.

I slowly step out of the car and ignore all the inner voices telling me what to do. Because expressing any or all of those things will make me vulnerable, will set me up to be emotionally wounded once again.

I’m almost at the door when Derek says, “Ashtyn, wait.”

I keep my back to him, but hear gravel crunch beneath his shoes as he steps closer. It’s dark, except for the small yellow light on our front porch giving off a soft glow.

“You’re a girl, you know,” he says. “And you can’t fight all your battles alone. You might be a football player, but you can’t fend off a two-hundred-pound linebacker.” He urges me to turn around, then glances at the nasty red marks on my arm from Landon’s tight grip. “Or your boyfriend.”

“He’s not my boyfriend anymore.” Landon lied to me. And manipulated me. And he’s transferring to Fairfield in the fall. It’s over. We’re completely screwed. I don’t know . . . maybe I can convince him to come back if I give him the captain spot. Our division is tough. We need a good quarterback to get any attention from scouts. I rub my eyes and wish someone would tell me everything will be okay. But it won’t.

Derek lets out a slow breath as my words sink in. “You broke up?”

I nod.

We’re standing a few feet away from each other. It would be so easy to close the distance between us, but neither of us is moving. I have the urge to reach up and lightly touch the side of his cut, bruised face. For a moment, I feel his pain as if it were my own. But no matter what’s going on beneath the surface, I have to remember that Derek and I are never going to happen. He’s the guy who’ll love you, then leave you without a backward glance. I can’t do that . . . it could destroy the thin thread of hope that I can have feelings for someone who won’t turn their back on me and leave. I’m dealing with more than enough betrayal tonight. I don’t need to add to it.

Derek walks inside the house and heads to his bedroom. I prepare a washcloth, raid our medicine cabinet, and find an ice pack in the freezer. I find Derek sitting on his bed looking at his cell phone.