He looks at Mason, who’s on the floor with a bloody split lip, and then back at my pleading eyes, as if contemplating if it was worth it.
He sighs and shrugs my hand off his arm, and shoots Mason a chilling glare as he gets off of him. Nevertheless, Aiden still holds out a hand to help Mason up, which Mason swiftly swats aside.
He stands up on his own and drags the back of his hand across his mouth to wipe away the blood, all while staring Aiden down. “I wasn’t done kicking your ass,” he slurs, grabbing Aiden by the collar of his shirt.
Damn it, why won’t he just calm down?!
Since I clearly just love jumping into the middle of fights, I move to pull them apart. Some part of my mind registers Aiden, Julian, Chase, and Noah yelling at me to stop, but it’s too late. I come up behind Mason, and when I try to pull him away, he draws his arm back to throw a punch at Aiden, his elbow slamming into my face at full force.
“Son of a—” My hands automatically fly to my face as a nauseating pain radiates from my nose throughout my face.
I feel multiple pairs of hands on me but I shrug them off, focused only on the coppery taste of my own blood, which I have no idea where it’s coming from. A pair of hands land on me that send sparks up my spine and I stop resisting.
“Amelia, stop squirming. Let me see,” a calm, deep, and comforting voice demands.
I force myself to straighten up and look at Aiden, keeping my hands on my face, as if trying to shove the blood back where it came from.
“This hurts like a fucking bitch, geez,” I complain, my eyes watering from the pulsing sting.
“Come on, let’s go take a look at it,” Aiden says in an authoritative tone, ushering me up the stairs and into the bathroom in my room.
As we’re walking, Mason continuously says he’s sorry, and one of the other guys orders him to go for a walk with them to cool off.
Aiden closes the door to my room as we walk in, as well as the bathroom door once we’re inside. He puts his hands on my waist and effortlessly picks me up and places me gently on top of the counter. If I wasn’t so focused on trying to stop the bleeding, I would’ve blushed or swooned or something.
He gets two small towels and wets them both with warm water.
“Move your hands, Thea,” he gently commands, and I obediently comply.
He hands me one of the towels to clean my hands, and uses the other to gently mop up the blood on my face. When he pulls the blood-soaked towel away, my eyes widen in horror.
“Please tell me I didn’t break my nose,” I beg, eyeballing all the blood.
That much blood means it’s broken, right? I knew someone who got a soccer ball to the face and their nose never healed properly, and now they have trouble breathing through it.
He gently moves my head around to examine my nose. “No, I don’t think so. At least it stopped bleeding.”
We make eye contact and my heartbeat elevates.
“Why are you being so nice to me? I thought you hated me?”
Aiden smiles sadly. “Were you not present during that whole thing ten minutes ago?”
“Well, mostly,” I joke and motion to my face, which is probably swelling. “But I thought you hated me?”
Aiden’s lips pull up in one corner. “I don’t hate you.”
He doesn’t hate me. I feel like since our fight I’ve been having trouble breathing, but now the polluted air has cleared and all I smell is fresh air and flowers. Or I guess technically right now all I smell is blood, but at least I can breathe again.
“How are you so calm right now?” I can’t help but ask.
His eyebrows draw together. “What do you mean?”
“I don’t know. Usually you get all ‘What did I tell you about jumping into fights. You could get hurt,’ blah, blah, blah,” I say in my best Aiden voice.
“First of all, I don’t sound like that.” He takes the bloody towel from my hands and throws it in the sink.
He puts his hands on the counter on either side of my legs, trapping me between his strong arms.