No matter how much Fenn told himself he shouldn’t punch Kyle, he couldn’t quite stop himself from wanting to. He clenched his fists and focused on controlling his breathing. Wes was calm beside him, but his hands had folded into white-knuckled fists, too.
“f**k off, Matthers. You can’t even qualify for the junior division.”
Kyle’s eyes bugged out of his head, and Fenn saw the man’s attack coming by using the reflection in the mirror. He ducked to the left just as Kyle’s punch soared through the air.
A swing and a miss. The voice in his head was a little boy’s: Emery’s, from years ago. For some reason, the faint, golden-tinged memory made him smile.
A swing and a miss.“Just another day for you, huh?” Wes grunted out as he swung his own fist at Kyle and joined in the fray.
Friends. They
