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“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.”
