Riding With Brighton(45)

I think we’re all waiting to hear if he’s gonna confess all his sins, but then an amused expression takes over his face, and he says, “What did you just say? Did you just say you’re fucking gay?”

Oh shit, I think, mentally trying to dig through the words I just spewed, and then a fist connects with my temple and all I see are flashes of white before I feel myself going down. Someone grabs me before I hit the ground, and before I have a chance to comprehend what the hell is going on, chaos breaks out around me. “You okay?” Brighton asks. My head clears enough that I can see him.

“Yeah.”

“Stay with him,” Brighton says, and then Molly and Shaw are each holding up a side of me and Brighton disappears into the fray in front of me.

“Brighton,” I scream, wrangling myself out of his friends’ arms. As I take my first step, I almost go down, and I have to stop and bend over with my hands on my knees in order to get the dizziness to go away. As soon as I’m able, though, I stand up because Brighton just went into that damn lion’s den.

I push my way past the bystanders and into the center ring where there are so many bodies attacking, I don’t even know where to look. I search for Brighton, and I find him trying to break up Jones and Mack. “Brighton,” I scream again as I push my way toward him. I watch in horror as Mack swings at him. Brighton catches his fist and uses his other hand to pummel Mack’s face. I also see what Brighton doesn’t—Brian is getting ready to sucker punch him. “Brighton,” I yell. He looks at me just as Brian’s fist connects with his cheek. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

I get there just in time to pound my fist into Mack’s face before he can get to Brighton. I keep hitting him, releasing all my rage, until he finally goes down. Even then, it’s hard for me to stop, but somewhere in my head, I know Brighton just got hit, and I need to make sure he’s okay.

He’s got himself between Brian and Jones now, trying to hold each of them back while dodging Brian’s attempts to connect with his face. I lunge at Brian and knock him to the ground. I get one hit in before Brighton pulls me off him, and Jones takes my place. Brighton forces me away, but I’m resisting. “He’s got it under control,” he tries to assure me.

“We can’t leave him,” I growl, trying to turn my shoulders out of Brighton’s hold.

“He’s got it. Take a look around.”

I do, and it looks like Brighton’s right—Mack’s side of the crowd no longer seems to be fighting back and most of the party is cheering for Jones to kick Brian’s ass. “Shit,” I mutter in disbelief. I wasn’t expecting that outcome.

“Come on,” Brighton says again, and this time I let him pull me away.

Nico, Shaw, and Molly are waiting at the outskirts of the crowd, and Molly actually smiles at me. “How’s it going, gay boy?” she asks me.

I smirk at her. “What… you’re gonna be nice to me now, just because I’m gay? That seems a little prejudiced.”

“I have no plans to be nice to you, but I might tolerate you because I guess Brighton was right—you’re not who I thought you were.”

“I’ve been trying to tell you that for years.” I look away from her then because I haven’t had a chance to check out the damage to Brighton’s face. He’s smiling at me, but I can already tell the side of his face is gonna be fucked-up. Tentatively, I reach out and touch it, and he flinches. “That’s not gonna be pretty,” I inform him.

He reaches up and touches my temple and eyebrow, which is pounding with pain. “I think you might look kind of sexy with a scar running through your eyebrow.”

“Okay, we get it,” Molly mutters. “You two are turned on by battle wounds. You can make out in the back of Nico’s van. We need to get the hell out of here.”

We follow her to where Shaw and Nico are already breaking down the equipment. We all grab whatever we can and haul it out the back door and to the van. As we head back in for our second haul, a group of guys are already doing it for us. Three of them are guys Brighton’s tight with, but two of them are guys from the baseball team.

After the equipment’s loaded and the doors to the van are shut, I turn to Nate and Riley, the guys from my team. “Thanks for the help. I appreciate it,” I say, reaching out to slap their hands.

“It’s cool,” Nate says, his eyes veering to Brighton, who’s standing by my side. “You know… it’s all cool.”

I nod at them, and Brighton and I climb into the van. And only then does my adrenaline ease off enough that I can see through it. I start laughing because the other option would be to cry and, despite the shit show that just went down, there’s nothing sad about this night. “Holy shit, what a crazy night.”

“You realize you just told the entire school you’re gay, don’t you?” Nico asks from the driver’s seat.

“Yeah, and if I didn’t believe it, I’ve got a pounding head to prove it.”

Brighton laughs and wraps an arm around my shoulder, and I grab ahold of his thigh. “I can’t believe I got in a fight for you. I don’t do that shit.”

“You’re a lover, not a fighter?”

“Exactly. But, damn, looks like I’m a better fighter than you.” He pulls his sweatshirt over his palm and presses it into my eyebrow—presumably to mop up the blood that I can feel sitting there.