Page 6 of Fighting Spirit

“I can stay and-”

“It’s fine, man.” I clap him on the shoulder, resigned. “Make sure none of them do anything else stupid.”

He deflates with a sigh of relief. “You got it.” He nods emphatically.

The door shuts after him with a loud click, leaving me alone with Toad Girl. I take a long moment after Darius leaves to turn around.

Maybe if I ignore her for long enough, she won’t be there. Maybe the past ten minutes will turn into a bad dream. Because surely there’s no way that the guys have kidnapped someone and then ditched me with her?

There’s a second after I look at her when she probably thinks that I’m still staring at the door, the first time she thinks that nobody’s watching. All that fire and indignation has bled away. She looks so small and uncertain, the fear once shoved down deep, bubbling up to the surface now that we’re alone.

God damn, I can’t handle that face.

I squeeze my eyes shut. This is not the kind of stuff I’m good at: feelings and reassurance. I’m good at solutions, at fixing the problem rather than talking about it. But I guess my track record for fixing everyone’s catastrophes is what got me into this mess.

Chapter Three

RUTH

This guy looks pissed. I watch him carefully, not wanting him to reveal how much he makes me nervous as he runs a big hand over his face before stomping over to where I’m sat.

“Are you ok?” he asks like the words have been hooked out of him with a rusty wire.

“Yes.” I scowl up at him as I try to figure out how I want to play this. I need to get back to Allbreck. I have an assignment due, and a roommate who’s probably losing her shit. This guy seems like he might be my best hope.

“You don’t seem okay.” He frowns. “You’re sort of…puffy.”

“Puffy?” I arch an eyebrow at him as he flushes red, two crimson patches appearing over the line of his stubble and extending up toward his red-brown hair. It cuts through a little of his stony façade, and the tension in my chest eases a fraction. He doesn’t look like a bad guy, but I guess nobody ever does until they are.

“No-shit, I didn’t mean puffy.” He huffs out a breath, the groove between his brows deepening. “You’ve been crying, I think. Unless that’s just what your face looks like.”

“Thanks.” I cross my arms as much as I can in the mascot hands and look down at my feet.

“Fuck,” he hisses out. “Look, I’m sorry. I don’t really know what to say here.”

“Don’t spend a lot of time guarding kidnap victims?” Maybe I should be making more of an effort not to antagonize him, but self-preservation is losing out to how good it feels to be mean to him.

“You’re not a kidnap victim.”

“No? What would you call it then? I got dragged out of the studio, bundled into a car, driven to another city-”

“It’s a twenty-five-minute drive,” he interrupts.

“To another city!” I hiss. “It doesn’t matter how long the drive was. We crossed town lines!”

“Okay, okay.” He puts his hands out as if that’ll calm me down, but I just want to smack them. “Look, can I get you anything? Some water? A sandwich?”

I scowl, not wanting to be placated. I don’t want to take anything from him, determined to hang onto my fury. Unfortunately, breathing inside the toad head gives me crazy dry mouth.

“Water would be nice.” I work to keep my expression firmly in place. I can hear Mom in my head, reminding me of the manners she tried so hard to instill. Even in a situation like this, I can’t quite make myself be rude. “Thank you.”

“And food?”

“You don’t need to cook for me or anything.”

“I don’t know if a sandwich really counts as cooking,” he offers, though his expression looks more like someone getting ready for a root canal. “I’m trying to be helpful.”

God, why does he have to be nice? I mean, nice in a very grouchy, reluctant sort of way. Things would be a lot easier if he was just politely disinterested.

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