“You know Miles is gay, right?” Dane announced it like it was some huge revelation.
“Okay,” I said. “And?”
“You’re hiding something.”
“Everyone’s hiding something.”
“Damn it, Brett! Stop playing games. I want to know why you’re hanging out with a fa?—”
“Awhat?”
The voice came from behind me.
I turned around.
Miles was standing just inside the doorway, jacket on, hands in his pockets, looking completely in control of the situation. I knew that expression well by now.
“This doesn’t concern you,” Dane said, stepping into Miles’ space. His chest was puffed out, jaw set, the full physical intimidation package. It would have worked... on most people.
Miles didn’t move an inch.
“I think it does concern me,” Miles said. “You were just talking about me. I heard everything.”
“What, are you stalking us now?”
Miles laughed. “You think you own this place? I come here too, in case you forgot.”
“Guys.” I stepped forward. “Just drop it.”
Miles’ eyes flicked to mine. One quick look that said clearly and without words:I’ve got this. Stay out of it.
I stayed out of it.
“We don’t want you here,” Dane said. He shoved Miles hard into the brick pillar behind him.
Miles shoved back.
I couldn’t believe this quiet, precise, geometry-obsessed math student had just shoved Dane without a single moment of hesitation. No calculation, no fear. Just scrappy, immediate, completely fearless retaliation.
Dane’s face went dark. His arm pulled back, fist loaded, aimed straight at Miles’ jaw.
I stepped inside the punch and took it clean on the eye socket. The impact was extraordinary. A white explosion, instant ringing, the specific deep pain of knuckle meeting bone. I heardmyself yell in pain. The room tilted briefly and then righted itself, and I stood there blinking in the sudden, strange clarity of someone who has just been hit very hard.
“Son of a bitch,” I said.
Dane’s hand was on my shoulder immediately. “Brett! Brett, I’m sorry. Are you okay?”
I turned and looked at him. Really looked. At his face, the crowd watching, the whole stupid mess of it.
“No,” I said. “I’m not okay. What is wrong with you?”
“I just—” He opened his mouth. Closed it. Nothing came out.
Then Miles slung his arm around my shoulder from the other side. He was shorter than I was, leaner, and somehow in that moment, he felt like the most solid thing in the room.
“Come on,” he said. “Let’s get you out of here.”
I let him steer me toward the door.