POV’s Philip
But compared to Tate, he was f*****g pathetic. Because she didn’t look the least bit scared of him.
She’d even pulled me behind her, as though she were planning to try to block Zeke from swinging at me. I don’t understand why she did that. Why was she bothering to defend my name? I didn’t care what Zeke said about me. I didn’t want him anywhere near Tate, where he could insult her as he had on the ice. Where he could try and touch her–hurt her.
She wasn’t his to talk about like that. She wasn’t his to touch. His to so much as look at.
When she’d turned to face me, my head was spinning. Wondering why she had tried to defend me like that. Wondering why it made something tug at my chest. She was so… I couldn’t even describe it. All I knew was that I wanted to kiss her.
And
