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“Umm, of course, David. What is it?” she inquired as her voice trembled with trepidation.I sighed loudly inside my head. I hated the nervousness that she felt every time that I tried to ask her about something important. She always thought that I was going to dump her or abandon her.“If you’re my girlfriend and we’re committed to each other, does that make me your protector?” I asked as I turned around to look into her eyes.She stared at me for a few seconds, her golden-brown eyes glinting with sudden understanding. “Yes. Yes, it does, Davey,” she whispered as her eyes flickered cautiously across my face.“So does that not only mean that it was the right thing for me to do, punching that asshole out, but that it was also my duty to do so? If you’re my girl, and you fully mean it when you say that you love me and that you want to be ‘mine,’ then can I not take care of you in the best way that I know how?” I asked as the intensity of my eyes demanded an answer.“Yes, yes you can, Tiger,”. George slightly nudged Harold in his side with his elbow, using hisother hand to point across the way of the court to the Bartown's headbasketball coach. Indeed, the silver haired Caucasian man looked to be astate of stunted anger and profound sorrow, his eyebrows furrowed at adownward angle, while his face muscles tensed and his mouth droopedsimultaneously in what couldn't be rightly discerned as a scowl or frown.Harold seemed to be in somewhat of a trance, a vacant thousand yard stareaimed down to the lower bleachers where his daughter sat. He snapped outof it with an abrupt jump in response to George's nudge. He shook hishead, derailing whatever train of thought he was in, and looked over atHoulihan. He stared for a moment, and then began to laugh, more a nervoussecondary chuckle as though he was trying to catch up to the conversation.George immediately broke into laugher behind him, paunch stomach gigglingsomewhat as a result. George put a hand to his thinning brown hair.
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