“She needed to do it herself,” Roman says. I turn the corner. Roman’s hand is still wrapped around Xander’s arm. Xander’s face is red, and I can’t tell if Roman’s actually physically holding him there or not.

He drops Xander’s arm when he sees me, and Xander spins, jogging toward me like I’m in some kind of immediate danger. Maybe I am. This seems to be a dangerous game.

“Are you all right?”

“I’m fine.”

Xander’s eyes scan me, landing on the leftover blood on my hand. He reaches for it, but I pull away.

His mouth tightens to a thin line. “I will kill him.”

“He didn’t do it. I did.”

Xander’s eyes widen.

“I needed to prove a point.” I wipe the blood away on my black jeans. There are definitely benefits to wearing black.

Roman chuckles just behind Xander’s shoulder. Chuckles. He rarely cracks a smile, and this is what gets him.

I can’t help it. I giggle myself.

Xander’s gaping at us, shaking his head. “Show me the wound,” he says, refusing to join our funny little party.

I hold up my pristine hand.

“Not that one.”

Damn it. One of the girls must have told him. This I don’t want to do. Suddenly, that moment of lighthearted giggling seems years ago.

I hesitate, fingering the hem of my black T-shirt. It’s new. Somebody changed me while I was out.

“It’s not that bad.”

“Show me.”

Roman looks like he’s considering whether he should stay for this or not. I wish he wouldn’t.

He decides to wait.

I pull the hem up slowly, revealing a one-inch red line bristling across my pale stomach. I’m almost more embarrassed of how white my stomach is. I could have used some time in the Santa Cruz sun. The thought makes me want to giggle again.

“Shit,” Xander breathes, running a hand through his hair and looking at the ceiling.

Roman stares at the wound, checks my expression, and then politely looks away.

“It’s not that bad.” It doesn’t look pretty, though.

I want Xander to lighten the mood—to make some inappropriate remark about the skin he can see. But he just tugs his jaw with his hand.

“Don’t you dare,” I say.

“What?”

“Do not touch him.”

He sighs, glancing back at Roman for whatever support he found earlier. Roman shakes his head. He’s with me now. “She’s right,” he says. “It would only make her look weaker.”