“I did!”
“He had you trapped against a locker.”
“I was handling it professionally.”
“He had his hands on you.”
Her mouth opens.
Closes.
Then opens again.
And for a second I realize she's genuinely upset.
Not because I punched him.
Because she knows who he is.
Crap.
“Are you okay?” I ask.
Immediately her expression softens.
Just a little.
“Yeah.”
Then she looks down.
“Oh, crap.”
“What?”
“That's one of the school's biggest donors.”
I look down at the unconscious asshole.
Then back at her.
“So what?”
“So what?” She hisses.
“He shouldn't be touching you like that.”
“I know, but?—”
“You said no.”
“I know.”
“Then fuck him,” I growl.
Mary groans.
Actually groans.