Page 23 of The Wrong Game

But I was at the game with Gemma, and the last thing I wanted was to get us kicked out. So, I steeled a breath, cracking my neck to alleviate some tension.

“We’re just here to watch the game,” I told him, as calmly as I could with the anger roaring through me. “And we’re rooting for the same team. Let’s just take it down a notch.”

“I can’t root foranyteam, balls for brains, because I can’tsee.” He gestured his chubby little hand toward the field.

“How is this tiny little thing blocking your view?” I asked, pointing at Gemma. “Girl is like a size two, if even, and at least two feet shorter than you. And you’re three rows up!”

“Tell your bitch to sit down!” he ground out, a vein popping in his neck when that last word rolled off his tongue.

Heads snapped in his direction at that, a few other guys calling out that his comment had gone too far while the women gasped in shock.

Gemma’s fists balled together at her sides, and she launched forward, hands catching the back of her chair like she was ready to hike herself over it.

I almost laughed — not because the fact that I was likely about to get my ass in a fight over this girl was funny, but because she was somehow even more adorable when she was pissed.

Before she could plant one foot on her seat to climb over, I caught her by the waist, wrapping both arms around her flailing frame.

“I’m only going to ask you this once,” I said through clenched teeth, still holding onto a panting Gemma as she glared at the man. “Apologize.”

“Fuck you,” he spat.

Tossing Gemma behind me, I climbed over my seat, side-stepping a family of Bills fans until I was in the guy’s face. He wound up, ready to hit me first, and I licked my lips with an evil smirk.

Oh please, hit me, motherfucker.

But before he could, security broke through the commotion, pressing one hand hard on my chest to push me back.

“Alright, guys, that’s enough. Both of you calm down or I’ll throw you both out.”

The security guard was smaller than both me and the asshole still glaring down at me, and for a second, I debated the risk versus the reward. The security guard likely wouldn’t be able to break us up very quickly — not without backup, anyway. And while getting kicked out of the game would suck, I’d have at least a few unblocked shots. And knocking a few of this man’s teeth loose… would that be worth it?

Hmmm…

“Zach,” Gemma said, tugging on my arm. Her emerald eyes blended with the green turf behind her, and just as I glanced at that field, our quarterback threw an incomplete pass.

Shit.

Gemma invited me to watch the game, not get her thrown out of it.

I stepped back, hands in the air as the security guard cocked a brow at me before turning to the man above me.

“What’s the problem here?”

“These two burban moochers won’t sit down so we can see the game.”

That earned a haughty laugh from one of the teenagers I had to sidestep when I climbed over my seat. He was wearing a Bills jersey, and I realized he was recording the whole thing on his phone.

“What the fuck are you laughing at?” the man said to the kid.

“I just find it hilarious that you’ve got your panties in a knot whenI’mthe one sitting right behind them, and I can see just fine.”

The crowd laughed at that, and a few people called out smart remarks about how embarrassing it was for this guy to have a Bills fan put him in his place. Even the security guard had to fight a smile, but it turned to a grimace when he faced me again.

“Unfortunately, the rule is that the majority wins. If most of the fans around you are sitting, you should sit, too.”

“What?!” Gemma cried out, throwing her hand toward the guard. “We’re at afootball game, for Christ’s sake!”

Again,adorable.