Several people cheer as much of the house remains frozen in place, debating their next move and trying to anticipate the intentions of others.
“Get out,” Bobby yells. “You don’t come into someone’s house as a guest and throw dishes and start a fight when there are girls around, and people are trying to have a good time.” He shakes his head.
Still, many remain rooted in place. I move around Bobby and head into the kitchen, passing a guy with a bloody nose who turns his gaze on me like I’m his next contender. I stop in front of him, knowing the rules of fighting—the first one being: if you think a fight is about to start, you throw the first punch. I shake my head, my patience already waning as I stare him in the eyes that are going to be swollen and bruised tomorrow. “Trust me. You don’t want to fuck with me.”
His jaw flexes, and his eyes narrow, but he takes a step back.
“You’re a tough motherfucker, but you do remember you were on crutches a week ago, right?” Ian asks, appearing beside me again.
I grin, a rush of adrenaline coursing through me, reminding me of being out on the field, where prior to my injury, I’ve always felt invincible. The crowd begins to disperse as Bobby starts shuffling people out toward the living room where the other guys are now tag-teaming checkpoints to get those who were in the kitchen out of the house.
Rose looks at me with fear still rounding her eyes. “May I list reason ten thousand and one why I don’t do relationships? What kind of crazy shit was that? This place is like the Ritz Carlton, and they were throwing down over a kiss.”
“Money doesn’t buy class,” Olivia says, wincing when as she takes a step. Her eyes are a darker blue tonight, pulling from the dark color of her shirt. She scans the room, again and again, her unease apparent.
“Oh, shit,” Rose gasps, reaching for the kitchen towel hanging from a door of the double oven. She moves toward Liv, and I see it then, the bottom of Liv’s shirt pulled up a bit and a large red spot blooming right above her waist on the back of her hip.
“Don’t use that,” Olivia says, shoving it away. “We have no idea if it’s clean. Plus, I’m sure it’s fine.” She turns her face away.
“What in the hell happened?” I ask, looking over my shoulder to see if any of the asshats who started this mess are still here.
Liv’s silent for several beats, and when I look back at her to ensure she heard me, her eyes are narrowed with a thought I can tell is heavier than the simple question permits. “It wasn’t anything. I don’t even know how it escalated so fast. I think it’s because it was a tight space, and there were just a lot of people in here.”
Rose nods. “Yeah, it sounded like someone made out with someone’s boyfriend. Apparently, the new guy didn’t think the old boyfriend was being respectful, and there were some chosen words. Then, a drink was thrown, and some idiot dropped a plate, and that scared everyone, which created a lot of pushing and shoving. And then somebody hit somebody—"
I raise a hand to stop her. “Let me take a look,” I say, moving closer before Liv can respond.
“She hates blood,” Rose says.
“That’s good. It would be kind of weird if she loved it.” I grab the hem of her shirt and lift it to find a wide shard of glass in her side.
“Okay, small detour for the night. But it’s going to be fine. We’re going to be fine.” Rose nods as though assuring herself.
“Detour?” Liv asks.
Rose swallows and nods, her eyes somehow even rounder. “You need to go to the ER.”
“We’re not going to the hospital.” Olivia shakes her head.
“Yeah, you are,” I tell her.
“It’s fine. It will heal.”
“I want to spare you the details because I know you’re the fainting type—” Rose turns her attention to me. “—Her second of week of junior year we had a blood drive, and senior year, she wasn’t welcomed back. Fainter.”
“Can we not make me sound like a wet noodle?”
Rose laughs, her gaze dropping back to the wound as I study it, trying to understand how the glass impaled her and how deep it might be. “You’re super tough. You’re also super going to the hospital.”