I watched the jerk propel forwards from the swift impact of Will's fist with a wince. His eyes- electric blue and arrogant- widened, right before his face collided with gravel.

He hadn't heard Will coming- but then again, most people never did. The only reason I did was because I'd seen a large shadow near the front door earlier and knew it had to be him. He somehow always knew when someone was bothering me, something that didn't happen much anymore. Not even the drunkest of the drunk in this town dared tread a good ten feet within me, not after that incident a couple years ago. The few idiots stupid enough to try learned their lesson. The hard way. The new guy should have been warned. With Will it was fists first, questions later- which is exactly why I sprung forward now, crouching in front of the groaning douchebag.

He had been bothering me, but not exactly in the way that merited him getting half-killed. Even that single punch had been overkill.

Will regarded me for a second, then his hands shot out, hauling me to my feet in a manner that was gentler than the look on his face. "Don't protect him," he growled, nudging me to the side.

Douchebag was standing, rubbing his jaw with a curse. I stepped between them again, seeing the confusion become more pronounced in Will's hazel eyes. Normally I steered clear and let his friend Travis(who showed up when things were getting homicidal) diffuse the situation.

I raised both my palms up, keeping my tone calm and placating. "Trust me, I wouldn't mind bashing him over the head myself-"

"Geez, I thought we were already sidewalk buds," Douchebag grumbled.

"But he wasn't trying to hurt me," I finished.

"He thought I was going to hurt you? Who the hell starts throwing punches without asking first?" Douchebag asked, glaring at Will.

Will glared right back, brown eyes clear as day even though I knew he probably had a few drinks. He was a sober drunk, which was why he was out here right now, looking like he was going to make a punching bag out of a certain someone when the rest of his friends were no doubt already passed out.

Maybe it was because Will was such a large guy. I've gotten used to watching him bend a little when walking through a doorway but his physique still never failed to shock me at times like these- when he was about to beat the heck out of someone. And it wasn't just brawn either, a smart person would take one look at the fury in his eyes and see a deeper emotion there, a calculating edge and sureness of a man who knew exactly what he was doing. Those people steered clear. Douchebag looked like he was about to pounce right in.

"Will, let's go home."

"Are you sure he didn't do anything?" Will asked.

"If he had I wouldn't be stopping you," I replied. "Let's go."

Douchebag was glowering at us both now. "What, you're going to leave without even apologizing?"

"You're lucky you're walking away on two feet," Will retorted, wrapping a tattooed arm around my shoulder and pulling me to his side. I wrinkled my nose at the way he smelled. Alcohol. And perfume.

But instead of moving away like I wanted to, I put my right arm around his waist, a silent message for him to lean on me a bit. Even though he'd stayed level-headed so far, I knew he had to be tired. He was in school today but he also had a few errands(or so he called them) to run afterwards. I was surprised he even wanted to come to the party.

I glanced at Douchebag, who still looked pissed but thankfully not ready to fight anymore. Although I didn't like him and really shouldn't care, I smiled apologetically at him. "My name is Kiara. Don't talk to any more strangers tonight."

I felt Will stiffen beside me, and before I could move an inch, he was suddenly swirling us around and dragging me away. I noticed he had my pink backpack slung over his other shoulder even though I hadn't seen when he'd picked it up. My car was a block away, but before we could get halfway there I heard Douchebag call back his own name. Brad.

Will walked faster and I had to practically run to keep up, but when we got to the car he slumped against the pink Mercedes while I unlocked it, all energy deflated now that we were away from the enemy. I opened the backseat door for him, watching him get in before slamming it shut- or at least I tried to.

He grabbed my wrist, tugging me inside and right against him. I froze at the contact, my eyes wide as they looked up into his. He stared back and for a wild second-as my eyes sketched over the handsome planes of his face, the dark brows(why did guys have such perfectly shaped eyebrows?), soft curly hair that fell over his forehead, the smooth tan skin and the sensual mouth- I thought I was going to be exposed. That he'd seen it all right then and knew.

But he didn't. "You told him your name," he said, voice frowning although his face wasn't.

I moved away so I wasn't touching him, feeling(and hoping he didn't see) the heat that crept up my neck. He didn't see that either, he was frowning at the space I'd put between us. Which was unusual, we've kept our distances from each other since we started high school- mostly because I noticed he became irritable when I came too close.

"I did tell him," I responded, belatedly.

"Do you like him?"

"What?" A ridiculous giggle bubbled out of my throat, as ridiculous as the idea of liking that idiot. "Of course not. He's good-looking, I guess, but he's a complete jerk."

The hand on my wrist gave me a small squeeze before letting go. "So you noticed. Good."

I rolled my eyes, got out of the car and settled into the driver seat. I started the engine. "Jerk or not, it wouldn't be any of your business if I did actually like him."

"I better not see you anywhere near him."

That was the childhood friend protectiveness speaking, I thought bitterly. I fought to keep the bitterness down. Act natural. "What would your mom say is she heard you were chasing away my potential guy friends?"

I heard him shift in the back seat, trying to get as comfortable as possible in the limited space. "Easy. I'll tell her he not only hates cats, but he eats them too. She'll chase him off herself."

I laughed, bitter mood forgotten as I pulled away from the curb. "She wouldn't believe that."

He snorted. "It's my mom we're talking about, remember? Same woman who named her son Shakespeare."

I grinned at the mention of Will's middle name, the bane of his existence. Not many people knew it, and the ones who did didn't even dare whisper it. His mother was a book addict(she's gone above the label of bookworm), which was why she named all three of her sons after famous writers. William Shakespeare Cage, Robert Frost Cage and Dante Alighieri Cage. The real irony was that none of them liked to read. Growing up, they used to shove all the books their mom drowned them in at me. So I ended up becoming the bookworm instead.

Their mom, Flora, had a nickname for me too, Jane Austen. Which everyone in Will's family- except Will himself- called me and since I used to practically live there, I have a hard time not responding to it.

"Flora would not believe that lie," I mutter, but not with a lot of conviction.

I get no reply. When I check the mirror, I see he's asleep. And the traces of red lipstick along his neck. Double standards, I roll my eyes, rubbing my hand at the aching in my chest.