"Can I help you?" Michael asked, his emerald eyes sharpening as they locked on the youth sprawled at his feet — the same boy who had just tried to shoulder him aside.
The shift in the room was instant. Conversations faltered, and nearly every gaze turned toward them. A fight, it seemed, was about to break out.
"You must be Melody's fiancé," Braydon said as he stepped over the fallen youth, coming to stand face-to-face with Michael. His expression was serious, but his voice carried an edge of disdain. "I'm surprised you managed to pass. Are you sure the examiner didn't make a mistake?"
A ripple of chatter swept through the room.
Michael's jaw tightened, though his irritation wasn't from the poor attempt at provocation. It was that very first sentence.
So much for keeping a low profile.
