“I—” My throat feels dry. “Yes. I told him to let go.”
David’s jaw tightens.
Eric squeezes my elbow.
But I know he feels the shift.
Because even he isn’t dumb enough to miss the way David looks standing there.
He’s huge. At least four inches taller than Eric. And he’s wider. Built.
The tattoos I can see despite his shirt look menacing, the way they scroll up and down his arms and neck.
And the look in his eye?
Complete and total focus.
Like he’s balanced. Ready.
Protective.
“What’s your problem, man?” Eric snaps.
Oh my God.
This idiot.
David straightens just slightly, rolling his shoulders back.
“My problem,” he says evenly, “is that she asked you to let go.”
The calm in his voice is worse than yelling.
Eric laughs—a sharp, ugly sound.
“This is between me and my girlfriend.”
“Ex,” I snap.
David’s eyes flick to me, and something dark flickers there.
“She doesn’t want you touching her,” he says.
That’s it.
Simple.
Clear.
Unarguable.
“So what?”
“So I suggest you stop while you still have use of that hand.”
Oh.
Oh. Wow.