Page 78 of Your Play to Call
I can’t hear what they’re saying but that means no one is screaming which is a great sign at this point. Until one of them yells, “Tripp Owens is a little bitch!” And the rest of the group cackles. The press is trying to inch closer and closer.
Seth has gotten one of the Suburban doors open and the group has shifted enough for us to get in. Tripp turns to come back to get me.
And that’s when one of the guys sucker punches Tripp, hitting him in the back of the head.
Chapter 41
Tripp
What the fuck wasthat? I stumble a step forward, mostly because I was surprised. And then it clicks: one of these idiots hit me. Since they were drunk, and probably not very coordinated to begin with, they barely made contact.
I look up to see Willow with her hand over her mouth, eyes wide.
In a short second, things get worse. The security guards lose focus for a minute and take a few steps towards me.
And that’s all it takes.
The crowd of press surrounding Willow rushes forward, trying to get pictures of my security detail, pinning the man who threw the punch on the sidewalk. When security took those few steps, they gave the press too much space, and they dash forward. They push her to the concrete. She catches herself with her hands.
“Lo!” I yell as I push through every person who stands in my way. I don’t give a fuck who is taking what picture, I’m shoving people out of my way, and Seth is right behind me.
I reach Willow as she’s pushing herself up, looking at her hands. I lean down to her level.
“Are you okay?!” I take her hands gently to see the damage. They look to be scraped, nothing more than that.
“No! I’m not okay. None of this is okay.” Her eyes fill with tears as she is still on the ground.
I reach under her elbows and help her stand. Seth and I get her to the Suburban. Once she’s inside, I slide next to her, and shut the door. Seth gets in the front seat, locks the doors, and looks back at us.
“Willow. Let me see your hands.” She shows him. “Are you hurt? Do you want to get checked out? We can have someone come to the apartment.”
Willow lightly touches her upper arms, flexes her elbows, and touches her knees.
“I’m not hurt.”
“I’ll take you back to the apartment. Tripp’s team will take care of these guys.”
“No,” Willow says, her voice small. “I want to go home. To my place.” She doesn’t look at me.
“The press might recognize the car if we don’t switch it,” Seth explains.
“I don’t care. I just want to go home,” she says, defeated, slumping back in the seat.
“Do you want me to come with you?” I ask.
She takes a deep breath, still examining her hands.
“No. I want to be by myself. Today was too much.” Tears fall down her cheeks.
“Okay, Okay. I get it.”
Seth starts driving. It doesn’t matter where we’re going but staying here isn’t an option.
“Why didn’t you listen to me?” Her voice is firm but also pleading. “Engaging with those guys was not a good idea. We could’ve just gotten in the car and been on our way to your apartment.”
“I just thought—” I tryto explain.
“I don’t think you thought much at all.” She looks at me before staring at the floor of the car. “I know this might be new to you, this level of being known and seen. It isn’t new for me.”