One More Time

When I walked over to her, I noticed her hands were bloody, but that didn't seem to faze her.

“What do you want?” she said, not bothering to look up at me. “I told you to leave me the fuck alone and I meant it.”

“Are you okay?” I asked.

“Do I look okay?” she said.

Her eyes flashed up at me, an almost wild and crazed expression of near panic on her face. She shook her head, lowered her gaze, and went back to staring at the ground.

“I can't believe I did that,” she said, her voice barely more than a whisper.

Greg had joined us on the sidewalk, and was standing there, staring wide-eyed down at Casey. If she even realized he was there, she ignored him completely. “You really went crazy in there,” he said, a smirk on his face.

“Fuck off,” she said, not bothering to look up at him. “I'm not in the mood for your bullshit. You assholes cost me my job. So, walk away and leave me the fuck alone. Got it?”

When I didn't move, she looked at me, pure disgust on her face. She pushed herself up off the wall, turned away from us, and continued walking. I took off and caught up to her, walking alongside her as she sped along the sidewalk.

She side-eyed me, the expression on her face one of open hostility. I had no doubt that if I gave her the chance, she'd throw a couple of punches at me.

“What do you want?” she asked.

“I want to help.”

She laughed, but it wasn't a pleasant sound. It was a harsh and brittle noise. It was a mocking, angry laugh. “You? Want to help me?” she sneered. “And I'm supposed to believe it, because – you helped me sneak away to the bathroom once?”

“No, because I'm not a dick like Greg.”

“Hey, man,” Greg said from behind me.

I didn't even realize he was following us. I looked over my shoulder and looked at him.

“Why don't you go back to the club, Greg?”

“Why don't you come with me, wingman?” he said. “There's plenty more hot ass in there.”

“Because – I don't feel much like clubbing anymore,” I said. “I want to make sure Casey gets home okay.”

“I can get home all by myself,” she snapped. “I've done it every single night for years. I don't need a chaperone or a babysitter, thank you very much.”

“Yeah, but you're bleeding and obviously hurt,” I said.

She stopped and looked at her hands, her eyes widening in surprise as if she just now realized they were bleeding. Casey rubbed at her knuckles as if suddenly realizing they were cut and bleeding had made them hurt. It was probably the adrenaline finally wearing off.

“Admit it, you like the crazy chicks,” Greg taunted.

Casey's eyes glazed over as she looked at me. There was so much pain in that one stare. I turned to Greg and shoved him back toward the club. He looked at me with wide eyes and a “what the fuck?” expression on his face.

“Leave. Now,” I told him.

“Why?” he asked, that shitty, condescending grin on his face. “Because you think you got a shot at fucking her?”

I didn't have to answer; my fist did the talking. I drew back and smashed it into his face – much like I'd done to Tommy earlier. Greg stumbled back, and I had to admit – feeling my fist smack into his nose felt good. Really good. Greg and I had been friends, once upon a time. But after seeing the way he'd acted in the club, and the things he said about Casey – I realized that we'd just become way too different to ever be friends again.

His head rocked back from the force of my punch and he staggered back a few steps. With a look of rage on his face, Greg got his bearing back and came at me. Greg was a big guy – bigger than

Tommy – but he was no fighter. As he lumbered at me, I grabbed onto his arm before he could lay into me, stopping his punch before he'd even had a chance to throw it.

“Get lost, man,” I said, shoving him away again. “You don't want to fight me. We both know who wins if this goes down.”