Always Crew (Crew Series Book 3), Page 3

  I had to smile. “Yeah. I’m getting low.”

  Cross met my grin with one of his.

  Jordan didn’t notice. He was looking at a list. “Okay. I want to do kabobs for the group tonight. So we’ll need skewers and vegetables. Got the meat already.”

  I indicated behind us. “I’ll grab the skewers. Vegetables are over there.”

  “Got it.” He took off, pushing the cart in front of him.

  “You okay with us doing dinner for Jordan’s study group?” Cross had stayed behind.

  I shook my head, stepping closer to him. Our hands grazed against each other.

  “No. I’m good. As long as there’s no problems, I like having people at the house.” I moved my hand, my pinkie entwining with his. “I got used to it at the end with all of Channing’s friends coming over.”

  “Yeah.” Cross fell silent.

  This was one thing.

  I had said Channing’s name. Channing was linked to my father. The same father who was now out of prison and whom I hadn’t spoken about since he left the same night he showed up.

  Cross asked that night, but I shook my head and told him I needed space. I didn’t want to talk, to process yet. I didn’t even know what I felt about that situation in order to process.

  He’d been giving me space. All the guys had, but his eyes sharpened, and I knew that space was about to end really fast.

  I was waiting, almost holding my breath until he let out a sigh. His hand came to my arm, and he drew me against him, tucking his chin on top of my head. “You need to open up one of these days.”

  I raised my arm, sliding it around his back. “I know.”

  I didn’t say another word. Neither did he.

  He was doing exactly what I’d asked of him…giving me more space.

  Then I had to laugh. “Was it Jordan’s idea for the tampons?”

  He eased back, the corners of his mouth lifted. “Yeah. Just walked by and grabbed the box. He didn’t even say a word to me about it.”

  Yeah. Family. Even during the awkward things.

  BREN

  Cross was studying in our bedroom when I decided to join the party downstairs.

  The music was blaring, but no one was in the living room. A few girls were at the kitchen table, books spread out, notebooks, computers all over. Plastic cups littered almost every corner, too, along with bags of chips and some cookies one of the girls brought over. They looked up and froze at the sight of me. One nudged the other, saying something under her breath, and the other one brightened up. “Oh! Hi. You’re Jordan’s roommate.”

  I’d been here when they came in. There’d been quick introductions, but the food was quickly dispensed, so her saying that was more of a nicety. Everyone went outside to eat since Jordan and Zellman had the grill going. That was four hours ago, and leaning forward, I sniffed one of their cups. “Is that the trick to studying? Getting drunk at the same time.”

  The girl who had nudged her friend started giggling. Clamping hands over her mouth, she started laughing even harder.

  The one who spoke to me shot her friend a look, clearing her throat. “Uh. Sorry. She had an edible two hours ago.”

  The third girl hadn’t said much or done much. She remained quiet, leaning over her computer, but she pushed it back and sat back in her chair. “I’m so screwed for our test on Thursday.”

  “Yeah. No kidding.”

  “You’ll totally kill this test. You always do, Miss I Like to Set the Curve.”

  The girl who’d been mostly quiet snorted. “Yeah, right. That is most certainly not me.”

  All three fell silent, sharing a look.

  Then one said, dropping her voice low, “Oh, from what you said earlier, are you talking about that one girl?”

  “Hmmmm.”

  The Giggler wasn’t giggling anymore. She bit out, “The one dating Blaise DeVroe?”

  “The soccer player?”

  Giggler nodded, her head high and her eyes bright. “She’s dating him. It’s disgusting, if you ask me.”

  They were talking about Aspen Monson, someone I learned over the summer had been the girl who saved our asses one night. Or saved my ass. If the cops had caught us at a party, I would’ve automatically gone back into juvie. Partying on parole and running from the cops was frowned upon. She was also kind and not a girl for girls to be bitching about, and someone I cared about.

  She was also dating Cross’ brother, and the two were so opposite that they were perfect.

  Go figure that one out.

  “How’d someone like that get someone like him? I mean, she’s pretty, but he could do so much better.”

  One snickered. “No doubt. Such a cow.”

  The screen door opened then. Jordan came in first, a few guys following him inside. He saw me and gave me a chin jerk. “Hey, Bren. Where’s our boy?”

  “Studying upstairs.”

  Zellman flashed me a grin, the last one to walk in. They were bringing in the rest of the food that must’ve been outside.

  The girls were sharing looks, and I turned to Jordan. “So, this girl,” I pointed at Giggler, “thinks it’s disgusting that Aspen is dating Blaise.”

  All three gasped.

  I pointed to the one who said it. “And that one thinks Blaise could do better than Aspen.”

  Then I turned to the last. “And this one thinks Aspen is a cow.”

  Giggler’s face turned bright red. She hissed, glaring, “What the hell?”

  I raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t that what you just said?”

  Jordan had stilled, hearing me.

  Zellman let out a small growl, coming to stand next to me. “You say that?”

  Giggler had opened her mouth, but shut it with an audible snap, her eyes shooting between him and myself, then to Jordan. Her gaze lingered the longest on him before she gave me a dark look. “Snitch.”

  “I’m sorry. You a cop?” I moved in a flash, slapping my hands down. One on the table next to her, and the other on the back of her chair. My face was down. I was in her space, and I wasn’t moving an inch.

  “What the hell?!” One of her friends stood up.

  “Jordan, she’s psycho,” the third friend offered.

  Giggler had stilled. Fear flashed in her eyes, and she didn’t hide it. She didn’t quench it either. There was no mask. The girl had no clue how to handle me.

  I said, making sure I was speaking clearly and succinctly, “I didn’t walk down here to start a fight, but when you start talking trash about someone I care about, I don’t like it. Not one bit.”

  One of the girls whispered, “Jordan!”

  Giggler’s eyes were wide. She was looking from me to over my shoulder. I was assuming right at Jordan.

  I moved, countering to block him from view, but I heard him speak from behind me, “We know Aspen.” His tone was cold.

  The girl’s eyes got even bigger. She seemed to shrink into her chair right in front of me.

  Jordan added, “And something you should learn about me, you don’t talk shit about anyone I call family. Bren. Zellman. Cross. They’re family.” Then, he added, and I could hear the smile in his voice, “Bren’s being nice right now. A year ago, she’d have a knife out ready to spill blood.”

  My gut shifted, and a bitter taste filled my throat.

  I didn’t need to do what I just did.

  These girls were idiots. Well, they were normal. Girls talked shit about other girls. Guys did it, too. It’s what made the world go ’round, but my reaction to her—it wasn’t necessary. I was throwing my weight around. I was making a stand.

  I was being Roussou just now.

  I wasn’t one of the college girls, and my own self-defense tactic.

  I was feeling self-conscious because I felt like I was losing my guys, and I forced an issue where Jordan would back me. Zellman, too. These girls, though, it was good that they learned their lesson about talking shit about Aspen, and about coming in this house and showing respect to some
one who lived here, but I could’ve handled it differently. I didn’t need to be Roussou on them. A few words shared with Jordan once they all left would’ve been sufficient, and cursing under my breath, I straightened and shared a look with him.

  His eyes were knowing.

  Zellman had a question in his gaze, but he wouldn’t say anything. That was Zellman.

  “What’s going on?”

  Cross had come downstairs and was standing in the kitchen doorway, his face locked. A mask in place.

  I heard one of the girls suck in her breath. I was assuming it was the same girl who’d been blushing every time he walked through the room earlier when we were eating. She couldn’t take her eyes off of him before.

  I stepped back. “It’s my bad. I might have overreacted a bit.”

  “Might have?” The quiet girl snorted.

  The other two laughed, relaxing a little bit.

  “Get out.”

  They went tense once again.

  Jordan had been the one to issue that order, and he stepped forward, looming over the girls. “Bren just did you a solid, and you’re too stupid to notice.” A chilled disdain emanated from him. “You’re privileged, and spoiled. This is her house. She lives here. You started talking shit about someone we all care about. Bren was just the first to make an issue about it, then she stepped back, saying she overreacted. That was an opening for you guys. What you should’ve done was show her some goddamn respect and say, ‘Nah. Our bad. We shouldn’t have talked bad about your friend. It’s cool. We won’t anymore.’ And then you should’ve gotten up and offered Bren a fucking drink because you three proclaimed yourself the bartenders tonight. But you didn’t do any of those things and this is me telling you to get out.”

  One of the guys laughed, his voice hitching up. “I think we’re good for studying tonight. Maybe we should pack up, head back to the dorms?”

  The girls rose, grabbing their things.

  They couldn’t grab their stuff fast enough.

  No one else said another word. We waited for all of them to pack up and head out. One of the guys held back. “Sorry about them.” He gave me a nod, cringing as he looked around the kitchen. “We’re leaving this place a mess, too.”

  Jordan lifted a fist. “Don’t worry about it. Part of hosting. You know the drill.”

  The guy laughed, meeting his fist to Jordan’s. “No doubt. Study session at my house next Monday, but we’re hosting a whole-day event before the game on Saturday.”

  Cross asked, “What game?”

  The guy turned his way. “The soccer game. You in?”

  Cross looked at me before he said, “Yeah. We’re in.”

  None of us were surprised about the party invite before the game. Soccer was becoming a favored event for the college. We’d gone to a couple of Blaise’s games before, and the crowd was larger each time. He told Cross that he got in because of his soccer skills, but we hadn’t realized that he’d been downplaying them. I didn’t go to Cain, and even I knew he was a big deal.

  “We’ll be at the campus grill before Friday’s football game, but yeah. Saturday is all about soccer. Couple of my roommates know some of the players. They’re chill guys.” He headed for the door, his bag over his shoulder. “See you all later. Peace, Jordan.”

  “See you tomorrow in sociology.”

  The door shut behind him.

  Red lights flashed us from their car, and a second later, it faded.

  As one, Jordan, Cross, and Zellman all turned my way.

  Cross sighed, taking the lead. “You going to fill us in on whatever was up your ass at the grocery store?”

  See. Knew he’d be bringing that up again.

  BREN

  Cross said, holding my gaze, “Crew meeting.”

  I was the one who didn’t move right away.

  Both Jordan and Zellman broke into action. Zellman grabbed a chair, flipping it around and setting it right in front of me. Both he and Jordan moved to take the couch. Cross moved so he was standing on the other side of the living room, his arms folded over each other. When I didn’t move from the kitchen, he nodded to the chair. “It’s all yours.”

  I sighed. “Empty chair, huh?”

  Jordan leaned forward. “Fuck that.” His elbows rested on his knees. “What’s going on with you?”

  Zellman threw an arm up on the back of the couch, lounging back, but his gaze was focused solely on me. “Yeah. Enough time has passed. You ain’t saying shit to Cross, and I’m tired of waiting. What’s going on with your dad?”

  Cross frowned at him.

  Jordan shot him a look. “Dude.”

  Zellman ignored both, staring at me pointedly. “Spill, Bren. That shit’s big. You need to talk.”

  I was trying not to bristle, but I couldn’t contain it. “Really?”

  “Really.” He lifted his chin, not blinking once.

  I ignored the chair, stepping farther into the living room. “My dad being released from prison isn’t that big of a deal. And I’ve been dealing with my shit. I went to juvie, had parole, and I did counseling. I did the whole nine yards, and now I’ve been rehabilitated as much as I can be. What’s your excuse?”

  “Me?” His eyebrows shot up. I nodded at him, then to Jordan. “Both of you have shit going on that neither of you has talked about. Your ex is having a kid, Z. And Jordan, what the fuck happened with Tabatha? Said you were in love with her, and then she’s gone a week into coming to school.” I skimmed a look at Cross. He also had stuff he was still holding in, but I’d picked my targets. In the crew world, there were no favorites.

  That didn’t extend to our bedroom, where both he and I very much had favorites.

  “Aw, hell.” Zellman slumped down in the couch.

  Jordan’s jaw clenched. “That’s–”

  I spoke over him, “If you say that’s none of our business, you ain’t in our crew.”

  He shot me a dark look but didn’t retort.

  Now I felt like I could sit, so I did, and I enjoyed it. Deflection, successful. Though, I knew I wouldn’t be able to do that in bed tonight. Cross had a look. He was determined, and I knew I couldn’t be a hypocrite. I’d be spilling my guts to the other two later.

  Zellman and Jordan shared a look.

  “You first, dude. Your shit is more recent. Not much to say about mine except dealing with my stupid ‘feelings.’” Jordan glared at him. “Thanks.”

  Zellman smirked. “No problem. Always here for you.”

  Still glaring, Jordan sighed. His head lowered even farther. “Fine.”

  This was momentous. This was big. This had never been done before. Jordan actually letting us in concerning him and Tabatha. It wasn’t that he meant to not share. It was more that Jordan usually didn’t realize what he was feeling himself until later, and even then, half the time he was surprised. So, him feeling things and him sharing those feelings was huge. I shared a look with Cross. We both knew this was a moment to respect.

  He shifted back, propping a shoulder against the wall by the door, facing toward Jordan. His arms lowered, one hand going into his pocket. His head lowered a little. All eyes were on Jordan, waiting.

  “Okay.” His eyes closed a second. “She cheated on me.”

  A bomb was dropped.

  “What?” I couldn’t—really?

  “You fucking with us?” Zellman shot to his feet.

  Jordan shook his head, looking around the room. Pain was etched over his face. “Yeah. There was a frat party the night after our documentary thing. And she cheated.”

  “Who told you?” Unlike Zellman and me, Cross’ tone was quiet. Calm. Eerily calm.

  Jordan snorted, leaning back against the chair. His hand came up in a helpless motion. “Allen.”

  I had to groan inwardly at that. Zeke Allen. Again.

  “You sure?”

  Jordan nodded slowly. “Yeah. Allen told me he saw Tabatha hooking up with a guy there, I guess he’s in Zeke’s fraternity. I asked Blaise about
it. He said he was there, and he saw it, too. Said it definitely happened earlier in the night because he took off halfway through the party.”

  Blaise was known for being honest, brutally honest. He wouldn’t lie. Especially not about that.

  “I’m sorry, Jordan.”

  He looked at me, nodding again. The pain flared brighter. “Yeah. I confronted her about it, said I had two people backing it up, and she rolled over. Started crying. Then said it was my fault. All of it was my fault because she feels you guys don’t like her.”

  Okay. Now I was pissed.

  I’d been feeling bad for Jordan, but I hadn’t moved to the default reaction I used to have. Now I was. I wanted to rip her head off.

  Zellman got there before me. “I’ll show her exactly what she can blame us for.”

  Cross straightened from the wall, his eyes on Jordan. “What do you want from us?”

  We fell silent, waiting.

  Jordan shook his head, standing, too. “Nothing. I broke up with her immediately, and trust me, I’ve been having my revenge. I’m fucking every girl she knows. Just haven’t started on her sorority house…yet.”

  I winced.

  If Cross broke up with me, then banged a whole list of girls I knew, yeah. That’d be torture. I was feeling tortured just thinking about it. No matter if she messed up, Tabatha still loved Jordan. She’d first been my enemy the beginning of last year, and they still started dating. Both had fallen for the other. So this didn’t make sense.

  “Why?”

  All heads turned my way.

  I added, “Why would she cheat? I don’t believe what she said.”

  “If you don’t, then she wouldn’t say why she cheated. She wasn’t drunk. Allen and Blaise both said she looked sober.”

  Well, that didn’t answer my question.

  I didn’t understand cheating. It was a shallow and selfish move that only satisfied you for a temporary basis. Why risk the long run on a short glitch? I could only understand cheating if it served a purpose, like deliberately pushing the other person away because you saw a future together with the new person.

  “Wait.” I held up a hand. “Who’s the guy?”