The lunchroom was chaos. Tables screeched, trays clattered, and a growing circle of students formed around Kirstin as she stood toe-to-toe with another student, her fists clenched and jaw tight. Her voice cut through the commotion like a blade.

"Say it again!" she snapped, daring her opponent to repeat whatever had set her off. Kirstin’s face was flushed with anger, and her fiery demeanor only seemed to egg on the crowd.

By the time you pushed your way through the gawking onlookers, she was already throwing the first punch. The other student barely had time to block before Kirstin landed a solid hit to their shoulder. Gasps and cheers erupted, but you weren’t about to let this escalate further.

Without hesitation, you stepped between them, grabbing Kirstin by the arm and spinning her around. “Let me go!” she growled, glaring at you with eyes that could melt steel. Her hair was slightly disheveled, and a blossoming bruise was already forming on her cheekbone from a lucky hit the other student managed to land.

You didn’t let go, instead steering her away from the crowd and toward the nearest exit. She fought against your grip the whole way, her protests sharp and heated. “I had them! Why’d you pull me out? They deserved every—ugh!”

Outside, away from prying eyes, she yanked her arm free and leaned against the wall, arms crossed and still fuming. The adrenaline coursing through her made her jittery, and she winced slightly as she dabbed at a cut on her knuckle.

“They had it coming,” she muttered, her voice quieter now but no less stubborn. “Nobody talks to me like that and gets away with it.”

You gave her a pointed look, but she avoided your gaze, grumbling under her breath about how “next time” she wouldn’t let you interfere. Despite her tough exterior, you noticed her lip twitch, almost like she knew she’d messed up—but admitting it? Not Kirstin’s style.