Page 2 of Fight for Me
Olivia continued to stare in a way that made Lexie feel like she was being scanned by airport security. “So, there’s been no more...” Olivia trailed off, her question unasked. But unfortunately, Lexie knew exactly what she meant.
“Of course not. I told you that was an accident, and he felt really bad about it,” Lexie said, waving her hand dismissively. It wasn’t totally a lie; Colthadfelt bad about the bruises. But mostly because they’d shown past the edges of her sleeves. She drifted over to the couch and plopped down onto it just as Olivia emerged from the kitchen with a bowl of fresh popcorn.
“I honestly think I’m going to love this new job,” Lexie went on, trying to change the subject. “My boss, Julie, is amazing, and I already have assignments lined up for next week. It’s a lot of writing, but there’s also some advertising and social media marketing, too.”
Olivia cocked her head and folded herself onto the cushion, tossing a handful of popped kernels into her mouth.
“Isn’t there a guy who works up there? Josh or Jase or something like that? He was taking pictures at the mixer for social work students—very official looking. And very cute.”
A boyish face filled Lexie’s mind, and her thoughts stuttered.
“Yeah, Jake. He’s the photography intern.”
Olivia tossed back another handful of popcorn, one eyebrow raised as she waited for more information. “Do you know him already?”
“Not really,” Lexie answered. “I’m pretty sure we had a class together last semester, but we’ve never actually talked.”
“What has Colt said about it?” Olivia asked, a neutral expression on her face. While her voice was casual, the darting glance she gave her friend was not.
Lexie took a long, slow breath and tried not to dwell on the way Jake’s dark eyes had locked onto hers earlier or the way her stomach fluttered when they did.
“What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him,” she said, reaching for the television remote. She found her gaze drawn back to the towering floral display on the kitchen table and tried to quiet the foreboding feeling growing in her mind.
Sometimes it was better not to poke the bear.
Jake got home,still trying to organize his thoughts, and found World War III in progress.
“Knock it off, man! I need to get to my room!” Conner bellowed, his bare back covered in orange paint splotches. The bath towel around his waist was soaked and leaving puddles on the fading linoleum, suggesting something had gone horribly wrong.
Jake ducked back into the garage as a small orange ball exploded against the kitchen cabinets to his left, temporarily scattering all thoughts of Lexie Preston. It was a good thing Conner’s father planned to tear the old house down and build over it once they moved out. Otherwise, they’d end up owing a landlord a small fortune in property damages after graduation.
“You can get in. You just have to break through the duct tape first,” Noah shouted from his hidey-hole between the couch and the wall. The shiny barrel of a paintball gun was just visible around the edge of the furniture, which was as tattered and stained as the rest of their ramshackle bachelor pad.
Jake peeked around the doorframe as a drawer clattered open. Conner yanked a large carving knife from the assortment of mismatched silverware and headed for the hall, presumably to cut his way through whatever barrier Noah had erected between him and his closet.
Another shot found its mark, and Conner howled in rage.
“I’m going to kill you as soon as I put on pants!” he roared, the sound accompanied by the frantic ripping of what could only be the aforementioned duct tape.
Jake stepped tentatively into the kitchen, leaving the door open in case he needed a quick escape, and surveyed the scene. Orange paint dotted the walls, and an overturned bucket sat in a large puddle of something immediately outside the bathroom door.
“You know you’re going to have to clean this up, right?” Jake said, addressing the head of black hair that popped up from behind the couch.
“Totally worth it,” Noah replied, clearly pleased with himself.
A mighty crash indicated Conner had gained access to his room, and Noah collapsed to the floor, his head and shoulders appearing from behind his barricade.
“He lost the towel,” he wheezed, clutching his sides as laughter overpowered him.
“Dude, you better not be here when he gets dressed. You’re a dead man,” Jake said, genuinely concerned for his friend’s personal safety. He’d seen Conner on a warpath, and it wasn’t pretty. But Noah made no move to flee.
“Oh, don’t worry, unless he wants to tie a jacket around the family jewels, it’ll be a while. I nailed all his drawers shut.”
Jake’s eyebrows disappeared into his dark hair. “Wow, leave something for the rest of the semester, would you?” he said, moving quickly toward the staircase along the far wall. A horrible splintering noise rang out just as Jake reached the relative safety of his upstairs bedroom, suggesting Conner had given up on conventional means of freeing his clothing.
“Go big or go home, right?” Noah called, but Jake only shook his head.
Dropping his bags on the bed and heading for the bathroom, Jake heard the door to the garage slam shut and the wheezy whine of an ancient car engine trying to turn over.
