I tried to catch a glimpse of Brent, but he'd chased Garrett–about twenty feet away from the brawl in front of me–and tackled him to the ground. He was on top of him, landing punch after punch with a sickening smile across his face. He was a shark, and he smelled blood.

That man could throw down, good heavens.

Backing away into some semblance of shadows to try and stay out of view, I watched in a mix of horror and awe at how men could just... punch and kick the crap out of each other. It was equal parts terrifying and mesmerizing, like a car crash you can't look away from.

Kelly would be eating popcorn. Shit, right. I need to find Kelly.

My options were to stay in the corner in a safe-ish manner or run past the brawl in search of Kelly. The timing to find my fight or flight response was happening, and my body chose the third option—freeze. I was staying in the corner until someone came and collected me.

A few staff members, referees, and faculty came to break up the fight, claiming it was started by the away team. They weren’t technically wrong, but they weren’t right either. Brent had to be pulled off Garrett by three large men before his jacket was straightened out for him and one of the men pointed away from Garrett.

I was still in my corner, hidden from view.

He stormed over to me, blood on his knuckles and a drop of blood leaking from his split lip. His eyes burned with his unleashed fury as he closed the distance between us. “What did he say to you? Did he do anything to you?” he asked, searching for any reason to go back and kill Garrett.

“I-I don’t think so,” I forced my words out, blinking up at him. Was I hurt?

Without waiting for an answer, he gently took my hand, lifting it to inspect my wrist. There were clear marks on it from being gripped so many times over the course of about an hour from two separate men.

His jaw tightened, his nostrils flared, and the look in his eyes darkened into something feral. “Did he do this to you?” His words were clipped, he could barely contain his rage.

“M-my wrist was grabbed... I, uh, there were two of them,” I managed to spit out, my voice trembling as my mind spun in a loop. Everything swirled together and I could hardly tell which way was up.

“Two?” he growled. “Who is the other one?”

My face was blank when I looked up at him. “Alexander Fitzgerald.”

“Why are you talking to Alexander?”

I gulped, feeling small under his gaze as he tried to soften his eyes on me. “Sloane kept trying to push him on me and now he won’t leave me alone.”