“What the hell is going on?” I ask. “I don’t know,” Lacey says. Her voice is thick with emotion, and my heart lurches further up my throat with the sound. “He won’t… he hasn’t… It’s fine. I’m okay.” I turn my attention to the guy next to her and his hoodie and jeans. The stupid hat he’s wearing that covers his blonde hair. I could bench press him if I wanted to. Easily. The twerp can’t weigh more than a hundred fifty pounds soaking wet. “What’s your deal?” I yell, and he scowls. “None of your fucking business,” he snaps. “Your stadium fucking sucks.” “It’s not nice to make a lady wait,” I say.
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