The mix of pride and pain I felt when my fist first connected with Xavier was a heady concoction. But the pride doesn't last long as pain blooms and spreads across my fingers and up to my wrist. It's a throbbing kind of sensation. With my other hand, I press down onto one of my knuckles, hissing when it aches in response. Below us, the party is goes on, oblivious and music reverberates through the house as though nothing has happened.

"I think I broke my hand," I whisper more to my hand than to anybody else.

I hear someone swear and look up to see Xavier covering his nose with his hand. That's most definitely going to bruise soon.

"Oh my God, I'm so sorry. I don't know my own—"

"Shut up and get the hell out before I call the police." He doesn't look that handsome now, he looks positively venomous.

"I'm not leaving without her," I say.

He nods, I suppose being hit by a girl is a major mood killer for some people. Who could have guessed?

I walk over to where she's lying on the loveseat and kneel by the chair to nudge her shoulder. She groans but doesn't open her eyes. I pull down her white t-shirt, hiding the exposed flesh of her stomach, and nudge her harder this time.

Her dark eyeshadow is smeared across her temple and there are hints of faded pink lipstick.

When I get the chance to really look at her face, her name clicks into place in my brain. Leah. I know this girl, she was in my Biology elective for a week before she dropped the class. But that's not why I know her. I know her because Leah is certifiably the most beautiful girl on campus. If Beyonce and Leona Lewis had a baby kind of beautiful.

She looks up at me and I smile softly, "Time to go home buddy."

"Go where?" She pulls her arm out of my grasp and turns away from me.

I sigh and shake her shoulder again, "I'm taking you home unless you have someone to call."

She shrugs me off again and then it's her turn to sigh. She swings her legs over the loveseat and stands. But she stumbles and leans against me.

"Leggo," Leah offers without moving an inch.

Her weight nearly knocks us both over but I stay upright. I'm not about to fall with Xavier staring at us like that. I keep her on my left side, trying to keep my hand away from as much of the action as possible. It's numbing but it still hurts like hell. That's what I get for resorting to violence. As we shuffle back to the sliding doors, my phone buzzes in my pocket and I groan. This is it. The end of the road.

It's Andrea calling to ask where I am and what I'd like to have engraved onto my tombstone.

We stop to lean onto the door so I can answer the phone and I brace myself for all the Spanish curse words I've committed to memory to hit my eardrums and ruin me.

"Hey." I know that voice. It's not Andrea, it's Anika, finally calling me back.

"Where are you?"

"Uhhh, Well, you don't have to come and pick me up now." There's a lot of white noise on her end of the call. As though she were outside or near an open window.

I groan, "What do you mean I don't? I'm already here."

"I know and I'm sorry it's just I tagged along with this group of girls and they were so nice to me." There's a pleading in her voice but I ignore it. She sent me on an actual wild goose chase.

"Whatever, I have to go," I cut the call but not before I hear her say my name one last time.

Slipping my phone into my pocket again, I grab Leah's waist and we shuffle onwards. I'm annoyed and it shows. A few steps later and we've made pitiful progress. Drunk girls are heavy and Leah is no exception despite her willowy frame. She leans over me as we walk, her hair in my eyes and her feet tripping over mine. As we make our way down the stairs she giggles as though this is a game and operates with zero coordination whatsoever. Planting her feet without spilling down the staircase is a hassle and a half. I'm perspiring and breathing heavier already and we've barely passed the first few.

If I ever needed another reason to never get drunk, this would be it.

We make our way through the downstairs hallway and are at the door when I spot Darnell.

Of course, he would be here. Of course. Leah must have called him and his white knight complex wouldn't let him rest easy until he got here. I'm guessing. He's leaning against his black Tesla. The one he got for his sixteenth birthday.

On paper, Darnell J. Washington is his class valedictorian, regular soup kitchen volunteer, Dog-mom of at least two golden retrievers that I know of, and Leah's "best friend". Off paper, Darnell was my best friend before high school, from third grade through eighth. A bond born from his sending a basketball flying into my face and giving me my first nosebleed. Now he acts like he doesn't even know me. And it doesn't help that we just happen to be on the same basketball team.

He had clearly been in bed. The bunny slippers on his feet can testify to the fact. A bold move. Nothing compared to my care bears but still remarkable.

When he sees us he walks over. I don't need him to think I need help either so I stubbornly refuse to let go of Leah and we continue to shuffle over to the car. It's only a few yards away. I can make it. It's just that the yards seem like miles now.

"Are you sure you don't need help?" He asks from where he stands on my left.

"Yup... I'm fine. I can do this," I say through my pants. Just a few more. I'm sure my knees won't give way. I'll be fine.

Darnell doesn't buy my show of bravado. He proves it when the weight disappears from my side and he practically picks her up off the ground. I stop and stare at him, jaw unhinged, as I rest my hands on my knees. Inhaling and exhaling and trying to relieve the growing ache in my arm. So much for being in my peak physical form for this week. When I tried to pick up her up we nearly tumbled down the steps and met an untimely demise. He gives it one go and he makes it look like she weighs nothing. I chalk it up to him having his growth spurt before I did. At 5'3 I'm still waiting on mine and at 6'1 his ego isn't the only thing keeping him from fitting through doors.

Picking up the pace I head over to the car to open the backseat door for him to toss Leah in. She's fallen asleep now.

"Sometimes I forget that you're an athlete. Lifting weights, protein shakes, steroids?" I ask not even trying to hide the fact that I'm gaping at his forearms. Well defined. Very well defined. I could do all the cartwheels in the world and I'd still have the limp noodle arms I was cursed with at birth.

"Something like that," He says as he drapes her over a seat and angles a seat belt, clicking it into place.

"Modesty," I say in my sage voice. As I speak, I twist my right hand to check it and the discomfort flares up again. I flinch from the suddenness of it.

"What's wrong with your hand," Darnell closes the door and looks over at me.

"Nothing much, I just got into a minor physical altercation defending the feminist agenda." When I say this I can't keep the pride out of my voice nor the smile from spreading across my face.

"You got into a fight," He asks raising an eyebrow. The disbelief in his tone is hard to ignore. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. You should see the other guy."

"Why don't you let me see your hand instead?."

Did I mention that he's in first aid too? I mean, what a guy?

Before I can respond he reaches for my hand, holds it up to the light, and stares.

"It's not broken."

"How do you know?"

"You can move it pretty well. It's just bruised." He pokes at one of the knuckles and it aches. "You should ice it."

I nod, unable to speak. He hasn't spoken to me directly to ask for anything other than to pass the ball back or hand him another bottle of water in nearly two years. Now he's holding my hand and acting like we're still friends. The thought makes me jerk my hand out of his.

He sighs and looks down at his feet then back up at me."Thanks for helping her, Hazel."

"It's whatever." No, it isn't. We've already established this but she was very heavy.

"I should get her home before it's too late."

It's midnight now, I wonder how he's going to explain this to her parents. It's none of my business but I still wonder.

"Okay, take care of her," I say but I don't have to because I know he will.

"And you'll be fine getting home?"

"Yeah, I can drive and I don't live too far away." That's an outright lie. San Antonio is a whole way away from here.

"Sure, drive safe." He says before turning away from me for good.

*****

My walk back to the car is uneventful. I drive faster this time, less fearful of crossing the white lines and more concerned with making it back home in time. I'm torn between being annoyed with Anika who's sent me a goodnight text as though it could undo tonight's journey and rehashing my conversation with Darnell. Rewriting my lines and glossing over what I said wrong. I don't care anymore, friends grow apart and that's okay. Except it wasn't.

And in the back of my mind was Xavier, I hoped he would sleep off his drunken night and forget about the girl who squared him in the nose. Perhaps he'll learn a lesson about consent.

When I get home the house is silent. All the lights are off and it is as I left it. But just because there's no activity doesn't mean I'm in the clear yet.

"It's quiet, too quiet," I whisper as I push the window up and hike into my room. I land on the wooden floors and pause for dramatic effect but before I can end my scene, a spotlight from across the room hits my eyes.

Shoot.

"You wanna tell me where you've been?" Timothy says, aiming the torch at me.