Cannon's voice leaves no room for argument. But seeing the look on Tuttle's face, all that earlier supposed boredom is gone. He appears enraged, his hands clutched into fists, like he's ready to throw one straight at Cannon's face.
Fear trickles through me, leaving me cold, and I wrap my arms around myself.
"Stay out of our business." Jordan's voice is hard, as is his expression. His jaw is so tight it looks like it might shatter.
"If you two have business, then take it elsewhere. You don't need to start anything at my house." Cannon turns to look at me, his gaze imploring. My new friend Cannon, rushing to my defense. Who knew he'd do this? Definitely not me. "Do you want to talk to him, Amanda? You don't have to."
I'm torn. Part of me wants to listen to what Jordan will say. The other part wants to tell Jordan to kiss my ass and never speak to me again.
"Say yes, Amanda," Jordan commands like he's the boss of me. Hearing him talk like that makes me want to punch him. The fear switches to anger just like that, and I stride toward him, ready to push, punch, scream, whatever gets my point across, when someone shouts and shoves Cannon from behind.
It all happens so fast. Cannon yells. Jordan starts swinging. I hear phones clicking, flashes going off as people in the crowd snap pictures. Two of our best football players are going at it, and I'm stuck in the middle.
"Fight!"
I get caught, both boys having a shoving match with me in between them. Cannon grabs hold of my arm. "Get out of the way!"
I try to, slithering out of Cannon's loose grip before stumbling into Jordan. He grips me by the shoulders, his gaze locking with mine and I suck in a sharp breath at the anger I see on his face, in his eyes.
But I know it's not anger toward me. He's mad at Cannon.
"Let her go, Tuttle! She doesn't want to talk to you!" Cannon roars.
Jordan holds up his empty hands, sending Cannon a death look. "Give me a break. I'm not even touching her."
"Leave her alone!" Cannon continues, his face going red. I appreciate his rushing to my defense, but it's not necessary. Jordan isn't hurting me. He's not even touching me. I don't get what the big deal is.
It's a big deal though. The entire party is starting to fall apart. People begin shouting. Arguing. The music shuts off and girls scatter in all directions, screaming at the top of their lungs. I hear the crash of glass, an agonizing yowl, and I realize quick everything's fallen into complete chaos.
"This is ridiculous," Jordan mutters just before he hooks his fingers around my elbow. "Let's get out of here."
"No." My defiant tone is loud and I shake my head. "I'm not leaving with you."
"Wanna make a bet?" One brow lifts and he smirks. It's adorable.
And infuriating.
"Tuttle." Cannon steps around us, grabbing hold of Jordan's arm, but Jordan pulls back, sending his elbow straight into my left eye. He nails me so hard I fall backward, landing on the floor with a hard thud that makes my teeth slam shut and my butt hurt. My skirt is wound around my thighs and I can taste blood on my tongue. Not to mention the throbbing that's started below my left eye.
A groan leaves me and I let my head drop to the floor, my hand flying up to cover the left side of my face. The metallic taste of blood fills my mouth and I close my eyes, fighting the dizziness swamping me.
"Jesus!" I hear Jordan yell and then he's kneeling next to me, his hands roaming over my body, fingers pulling my skirt down over my thighs. "Are you okay? God, tell me you're okay."
I crack my right eye open, my hand still covering the left. "You hit me."
His expression is nothing less than horrified. "I didn't hit you."
"Your elbow hit me. By accident." I close my eyes, the beer sloshing around in my stomach making me nauseous. Everything's making me nauseous. All the yelling. The scent of Jordan's cologne. The people darting around us. I'm scared someone's going to step on me and hurt me even more. "It hurts."
"Damn it," he mutters just before he scoops me up in his arms and stands, cradling me close. "We're getting you out of here."
"Put me down," I protest weakly, but he ignores me, which is best.
I don't really want him to put me down.
I hear Cannon yelling at everyone to calm their tits and it makes me laugh. But laughing only makes me feel worse, so I stop. Instead I gaze up at Tuttle, studying him as he walks down the short hall where the bathroom is located, carrying me like I don't weigh a thing.
He looks so handsome and worried and furious. His jaw is still tight. I can see a tic there, hear him exhale extra hard. There's the shadow of stubble on his cheeks and jaw, his hair is unruly-he seriously needs to get a haircut-and his eyes are dark, hooded. Full of fire.