Whatever It Takes (Bad Reputation Duet #1)(84)

What the fuck am I doing to her?

My chest blazes in pain. I stumble back, almost falling onto my ass, but someone catches me by the arm.

I jolt, the touch pushing me to panic, and I shove at the person on instinct.

“Whoa!” The guy steps back, eyes confused and angry. “Just trying to help, man.”

His voice. His accent is so familiar. And then I really look at him. Windswept hair and wide jaw. White sports coat, white pants and angel wings on his back. You’ve got to be shitting me.

“Salvatore.” Willow jogs over, out of breath as she lands next to her friend. She waves to me. “This is—”

“Her boyfriend,” I say. It doesn’t come out right, though. I feel like a jerk.

Salvatore looks between us and he nods slowly, connecting the dots. I don’t know what she’s told him about me, but the way he’s appraising me like I’m exactly what he pictured has me on edge.

“What are you looking at?” I snap at him.

“Garrison,” Willow says and reaches for my hand, but I pull away. My focus is on Salvatore. All my rage pooling into this one goddamn thing.

Salvatore narrows his eyes at me. “Are you drunk?”

I wave my arms around. “Look around, Salvatore. We’re at a college party. Everyone is drunk.” I hate his name. It’s cooler than mine. It still reminds me of that vampire TV show that Willow and I used to watch together. Gif sets that we’d send to each other.

It’s like the universe is mocking me.

Here he is.

In fucking angel wings.

I mean, come on.

“Garrison,” Willow says, but she doesn’t try to reach for me again. “Let’s just go inside.” She hugs her arms to her chest.

Salvatore shakes his head and under his breath, but loud enough for me to hear, he says, “I don’t think you should be alone with him, Willow.”

“Fuck you, man,” I growl. “I’m her boyfriend. Who are you again?” My voice accidentally grows louder, and people close by stop their conversations to watch us. Willow takes a step back as if she can physically avoid the attention.

My whole body tenses like my brother just slammed a fist into my gut again.

The world around me spins. I touch my pocket, hoping for a cigarette, but I think I ran out in the cab.

“I’m her friend,” Salvatore refutes.

“Salvatore, you don’t understand,” Willow says quickly, sticking up for me.

“I understand that he’s drunk and obviously angry and you shouldn’t be near him right now,” he says. That really rubs me the wrong way. Him dictating who she can even talk to. I don’t care if it comes from a place of concern. Willow and I have been through more together than he’ll ever know.

“Hey, she can make her own decisions,” I snap and move towards my girl. She lets out a breath of relief.

But then Salvatore says something. I think hold on. He puts his hands on my shoulders to stop me from walking to Willow. It’s a light touch, but it feels like someone descended fifty tons onto me. And I just swing.

My fist connects with Salvatore’s cheek. Hard enough that he goes down on the ground.

Some other guy with jet-black hair is pushing me back like I might go in for a kick to the stomach. I wouldn’t. I don’t…I don’t even know why I punched him.

My head throbs now.

My knuckles burn.

“Garrison!” Willow yells, but I can’t see her.

“Get off!” I say to the guy trying to push me back. “Get the fuck off!” I hold up my hands, showing him I’m not going to start in on Salvatore.

He steps back.

People begin to clear a path, and I notice Salvatore rising to his feet, his angel wings bent from the fall. Willow stands near but her eyes flit around the crowds, searching for me. Two girls flank her sides and whisper to her. Their lips move hurriedly. I recognize them instantly: Sheetal and Tess.

Sheetal’s hands gesticulate angrily and she waves them in my direction.

I can imagine what they’re saying to Willow. Don’t go with Garrison. He’s jealous, dangerous.

Willow’s gaze finally finds mine. Her brown eyes sink with pure concern. She’s not scared or hurt or mad at me.

She should be.

I’m not a good guy.

Hasn’t tonight proven that?

I take a step back and glance towards the street. Maybe I can catch a cab…

“Garrison.” Willow’s voice draws me in; she’s already moving towards me, despite her friends’ protests. She reaches my side and almost tries to touch my hand again, but she stops herself short. In a whisper, she breathes, “Can I hold your hand?”

“No.” My answer is quick and caustic.

It knocks her back. But she blinks and nods. “Okay.” She crosses her arms over her chest like she’s cold.

“I’m going to go,” I tell her.

She shakes her head adamantly. Hurt and confusion bunching her brows. “No. You’re not leaving.”

I can feel the cellphones whipped out, recording us. I don’t even know if they realize who we are, or if they’re just doing it for the internet. People are cruel like that.

One of the worst nights of my life will be out there for public consumption. For their entertainment. Hell, I used to be one of them. Feeding the gluttonous, cannibalistic internet at someone else’s expense.