“You smell really good,” he slurred.
I pushed his face away, but he grabbed my wrist, unfazed.
Wide-eyed, I searched for Travis again. He desperately pointed me out to Shepley. “Get her! Shep! Get Abby!” he said, still trying to push through the crowd. Brady pulled him back into the circle and punched him again.
“You’re fucking hot, you know that?” Ethan said.
I closed my eyes when I felt his mouth on my neck. Anger welled up within me and I pushed him again. “I said get OFF!” I yelled, ramming my knee into his groin.
He doubled over, one hand automatically flying to the source of the pain, the other still gripping my shirt, refusing to let go.
“You bitch!” he cried.
In the next moment, I was free. Shepley’s eyes were wild, staring into Ethan’s as he gripped him by the collar of his shirt. He held Ethan against the wall while he nailed him with his fist repeatedly in the face, stopping only when the blood poured from Ethan’s mouth and nose.
Shepley pulled me to the stairs, shoving anyone who stood in his pa
th. He helped me through an open window, and then down a fire escape, catching me when I leapt the few feet to the ground.
“You okay, Abby? Did he hurt you?” Shepley asked.
One sleeve of my white sweater hung only by a few threads; otherwise I had escaped unscathed. I shook my head, still stunned.
Shepley gently took my cheeks in his hands, looking into my eyes. “Abby, answer me. Are you all right?”
I nodded. As the adrenaline absorbed into my blood stream, the tears began to flow. “I’m okay.”
He hugged me, pressing his cheek against my forehead, and then stiffened. “Over here, Trav!”
Travis ran at us full speed, slowing only when had me in his arms. He was covered in blood, his eye dripping and his mouth spattered with red.
“Jesus Christ … is she hurt?” he asked.
Shepley’s hand was still on my back. “She said she’s okay.”
Travis held me at arm’s length by my shoulders and frowned. “Are you hurt, Pidge?”
Just as I shook my head, I saw the first of the mob from the basement trickling down from the fire escape. Travis kept me tight in his arms, silently scanning the faces. A short, squat man hopped down from the ladder and froze when he noticed us standing on the sidewalk.
“You,” Travis snarled.
He let me go, running across the grass, tackling the man to the ground.
I looked to Shepley, confused and horrified.
“That’s the guy that kept shoving Travis back in the Circle,” Shepley said.
A small crowd gathered around them as they scuffled on the ground. Travis pounded his fist into the man’s face over and over. Shepley pulled me into his chest, still panting. The man stopped fighting back, and Travis left him on the ground in a bloody heap. Those gathered around him fanned out, giving Travis a wide berth, seeing the rage in his eyes.
“Travis!” Shepley yelled, pointing to the other side of the building.
Ethan hobbled in the shadows, using the brick wall of Hellerton to hold himself up. When he heard Shepley yell for Travis, he turned just in time to see his assailant charge. Ethan limped across the lawn, throwing down the beer bottle in his hands and moving as fast as his legs could carry him to the street. Just as he reached his car, Travis grabbed him and slammed him against it.
Ethan pleaded with Travis, even as Travis gripped his shirt and rammed his head into the car door. The begging was cut off with the loud thud of his skull against the windshield, and then Travis pulled him to the front of the car and shattered the headlight with Ethan’s face. Travis launched him onto the hood, pressing his face into the metal while shouting obscenities.
“Shit,” Shepley said. I turned to see Hellerton glow blue and red from the lights of a quickly approaching police cruiser. Droves of people jumped from the landing, forming a human waterfall down the fire escape, and a flurry of running students burst into every direction.
“Travis!” I screamed.