Page 95 of Patrick

“Aren’t you going to guess what it is?” I say to her neck and watch the goosebumps that rise there.

“Whatever it is, I already love it.”

Now it’s my turn to get goosebumps, but I’m not happy about it. Or I try not to be. “I know. I’ll give it to you when we’re alone, back in your room.”

“That seems so far away.”

I chuckle. “I get you. Maybe we can cut the Snow Ball portion of the night short⁠—”

There’s a disturbance in the crowd near us, and before I can tear my eyes away from Fifi to see what’s going on, a big leaden hand clamps down hard on my shoulder and rips me away from her.

“I told you to stay the fuck away from my sister.” Vincent doesn’t waste another beat and swings his left fist up, connecting squarely with my eye socket.

I stagger backwards, but I don’t fall. “Fuck.” I bite my lip and blink, but I can still see and I don’t think anything’s broken.

There’s no time for more of a well-being check because he’s ready to throw another punch. Lucky for me, I haven’t had a drink yet to slow down my quick reflexes, and I easily dart out of the way of his next punch and start thinking about punching back.

But people have stopped dancing and they’re forming a small circle around us, murmuring in hushed tones and taking out their phones.

The last fucking thing I want is a film of me brawling with Vincent posted everywhere for posterity. Before I can say a word to try and reason with him or think another thought, he closes in again for another punch. And he’s talking.

“You think I’m a stupid ass?” I don’t answer that question on the grounds that it’ll definitely incriminate me—or incite his reckless anger. I manage to duck away from his next attempt at a punch and throw up my hands.

In my peripheral vision I notice my friends pushing their way to the front of the crowd, and I wave them off because they look ready to jump in and tackle the guy.

“What’s the matter, Jennings? Too chicken to fight back?”

“Too smart to fight back.” The words fire before I can stop them, and he charges at me again. This time I have no choice but to take a swing and punch back. I land my fist in his face, on his nose and hear the crunch as it lands. Pushing him off me, I back up as he bends over, bleeding profusely and cursing like fuck.

Bog grabs a hold of me as I shake out my hand, hoping I didn’t break anything. Fifi and the girls appear.

Fifi grabs my arm and says, “A couple of security guards are headed this way.” Her eyes urge me to stop, but I don’t need convincing. I turn and pull Vincent off the floor where he’s taken a knee.

“We’re done here unless you want to get us both arrested.”

He grunts, pushing me off him, but doesn’t try for another punch as he glances around to see the crowd parting. There are murmurs, and Bog signals for Sully, Henry, Van, and a few other guys from the team to surround us.

“Let’s get out of here,” I say, grabbing Fifi’s hand.

Henry nudges his way between me and Vincent as we head en-masse like a walking rugby scrum to the nearest exit.

Once we hit the doors, everyone goes their own way, and I hold tight onto Fifi’s hand and break out into a run. Pulling her along, we head in the direction of her apartment. She scampers as best she can in her heels, and I realize she must be freezing, so I pull her against a building, shrug out of my jacket, and wrap it around her.

“Sorry about the mad dash, but I think we’re in the clear. It’s worth losing a couple of coats to avoid answering to the campus police right now.”

She nods, and we trot the rest of the way to her apartment, to our hideaway.

Tonight I’ve escaped, but I know tomorrow will be another story. There were too may phones aimed at my fight with Vince to escape notice of Campus Polcie if they want to find out what went down.