I felt a rush of inexplicable anger every time a girl looked at him as we made our way down the stairs. When we got out to the grass area before the parking lot, I felt like a pent-up rage machine.

Some chick stared openly at him, and the rage grew hotter.

I accidentally took a step toward her, my fists clenching at my sides as if I knew how to throw a punch (which I didn’t), and Ford picked me up around the waist and carried me toward the car like I was a much smaller, much lighter woman. ...