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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.
