The drunk above me freezes, his body locking up like it’s made of stone. I’ve never felt gratitude like I do now. He smiles. “Crawford! Dude, you’re amazing. That—” Grayson points a menacing finger at him as he spits through gritted teeth, “Get. The. Fuck. Off. Her.” Each word is punctuated with steely resolve, matching his hardened eyes. The blue eyes that usually look at me with such softness.
