I shifted a little, my fingers gripping onto the edge of the table when he leaned in slightly. “Um . . . No, thank you. I would rather just stay here.”

Instead of backing off, he only smirked even wider. I was keenly aware that I couldn’t just get off the table with the way he was standing right in front of me, almost close enough for his legs to touch my knees. “Come on, don’t be like that. You know you want to.”

“I really don’t,” I firmly said.

“But—”

He was cut off when a hand suddenly grabbed the back of his shirt and yanked him away from me, abrupt enough to leave him swaying. Noelle stood behind him, one hand gripping onto his col ar to pull him down to her height as she lunged out. The punch was imprecise and merely brushed his face, but it was enough to have him stumbling back.

“You better fucking listen when a girl tells you to back off,”

Noelle snarled and gave another push against his chest.

Lance took another staggering step back, hands raised in surrender. “Okay, okay! Jesus, chill. I was just saying—”

“I know what you were saying. Now you listen to me. You obviously don’t understand the word no, so I will spell this out for you. If you ever talk to her like that again, I will not only kick your ass into next month but also go to Mrs. Whitworth. And I can guarantee you right now that she won’t be happy about this.

Got it?”

“Y-yeah.”

“Good,” Noelle quietly said. Her tone reminded me of the way she had spoken to me when I had looked at her notes—only then there hadn’t been such a heat in her eyes, such a fierce set to her jaw. Cocking her head to indicate me, she ordered, “Apologize.”

“W-what?”

“Apologize.”

Lance visibly gulped. Slowly turning to face me again, he muttered, “I’m sorry.”

Noelle sent me a questioning look and I realized she was waiting for me to say something, to decide if I’m sorry was enough.

After a second of hesitation, I gave a small nod. Lance bolted as soon as she released her grip on his shirt, the door slamming behind him. With a shake of her head, Noelle sank onto the table next to me.

“Thank you,” I said. “But you didn’t have to do that.”

“Yes, I did. I know what it’s like,” Noelle said.

I stayed silent, watching as she shook her right hand. Just from looking at it, I could imagine the dull pain the impact had left behind.

“I’m serious, Noelle. You didn’t have to do that. I know how to defend myself.”

“Oh yeah? Didn’t look like it.”

“I would’ve done what was necessary if he had touched me,” I insisted. When Noelle’s only response was a disbelieving snort, I carefully reached for her hand and turned it over to inspect her knuckles. Softly, I said, “That’s not how you punch someone.”