by Tijan
“Hmmm. Whoa.” I pulled back. “Where’d that come from?”
He shifted, pulling me firmly against him.
I grinned, feeling him. “Oh. There.”
He laughed, nipping at my lips again. “Yeah. There.” His mouth moved over mine, demanding, hot. “I want you.”
I was tempted. And I shouldn’t have been. There was a full house, literally, but Cross pressed me into the closet, his mouth growing commanding, and fuuuuck. His hand slid inside my jeans, finding exactly where I was throbbing, and my mind started to shut off.
Then the doorknob rattled.
“He—what?”
Taz. She pounded against the door. “Bren? Bren! Are you in there?”
Cross cursed, his mouth ripping away. “Shit. Sorry. I’m…” He grinned, a little sheepish. “Feels weird to say this, but we were sneaking booze in our drinks.”
“Right.” I said dryly. “’Cause I’m sure my brother was clueless.”
He shrugged, dipping his forehead to rest on my shoulder. His hand smoothed over my stomach, pulling out from my jeans. “It’s a copacetic relationship. He didn’t ask, I didn’t volunteer. There you go.”
“Bren!” The entire door was rattling now. “Are you in there?”
I sighed, pulling out of her brother’s arms. “I’m here. A little busy right now.”
“What? Why? I just saw you five seconds ago.”
“Taz.” Cross’ voice teased my skin, his forehead still on my shoulder. “Go away.”
“Oh—oh my God! Are you having sex?”
“Not anymore.” He sighed again before lifting his head. Two steps back and he unlocked the door and swung it open. “My sister. Cockblocker extraordinaire.”
Taz wasn’t alone.
Tabatha was beside her, biting her lip to keep from laughing. Sunday was next, a mix of disgust and something I couldn’t place on her face. They had another girl with them, but I didn’t recognize her. No Lila and no Monica. I was relieved. They still had the hots for Cross.
Taz pffted, striding into my room, shoving her brother aside. “You get her all the time. It’s our turn now.” She turned, folding her arms, her legs apart.
Was she? She was. She was squaring off against her twin.
“Get lost, brother. I want my friend tonight.”
A couple of the girls laughed.
Cross narrowed his eyes. “Don’t forget, I’m the reason you were invited tonight.”
“I was invited because you wanted a buffer between you and Bren’s brother. We all know you shit your pants when it’s just the two of you.”
Cross’ gaze flicked to mine, and I suppressed some laughter. Cross might’ve been a bit wary, but Taz was way off.
He shook his head. “You’re right, sis. I’m terrified of the guy I’m living with.” His tone was taunting. “You got me there.”
Taz’s mouth clamped shut, and tears welled up.
She’d forgotten, for a moment there, that her brother was not living with her anymore.
“Right,” she continued after a moment. “Well, I don’t care. Get out. I want Bren right now.”
Cross looked ready to argue, probably just because he was enjoying needling his sister, when Tabatha stepped forward.
“We got chick things to discuss. Can you go make sure I still have a boyfriend?”
The playful look in Cross’ eyes fell flat. I was right.
A mask took its place. “I don’t do your bidding. Fuck off.” His eyes met mine for a second before he walked past the girls.
A full beat of silence followed him. Then Tabatha’s hands went to her hair. “Jordan’s been distant to me, and that confirmed it.” She turned to me. “You did tell them.”
I shook my head. “You thought I wouldn’t? You serious?”
Sunday mocked, “Crew code, Tab. Remember? There’s no girl code with Bren.”
I pivoted to her. “You have a problem with me?” My tone was ice.
The girls shifted on their feet. When they forgot who I was, I showed them. I let some of the old Bren peek out, and Sunday eased back a step.
She coughed, her eyes looking anywhere but at me. Her voice tight. “Look, whatever. Tell her what happened.”
“Right.” Taz took over. “We’re calling it the Monica Mutiny.”
“Monica Mutiny?”
“It’s insane.” She waved her hand in quick, sharp motions. “And I’m so pissed off about it.”
“Just tell her. She needs to know.” Sunday looked ready to explode.
“Right. Okay.” Taz took a breath. “Monica left the group. She took Lila and Angie with her.”
“Who’s Angie?”
“Good grief,” Tabatha muttered. “It’s like you don’t know anyone. She was one of my best friends for the last three years.”
Noted. Angie was important to Tabatha. I frowned. “Why do I need to know this?”
“Because the code is out. Gone. Destroyed.”
“What code?”
“Girl code!” Sunday snapped, then held her hands up in surrender. “Sorry. I just—it’s a thing. Not just crews have codes. Girlfriends do too.” She gestured to Taz. “Yours. Sorry.”
“Yes.” Taz turned to me. “So this is a problem for you, because she has her interview scheduled at the end of the week with that show. We know you’re supposedly helping them—”
Tabatha snorted. Sunday tried to smother her own laughter, and she turned all the way around, facing the hallway. The girls there were giggling.
Taz rolled her eyes. “Yeah. Supposedly. Everyone knows you’re really just scaring people out of talking about the crews, but anyway. Monica. She’s going to go in there, see you, and not give a shit. It’s war as far as she’s concerned.”
“War? Why?” Was I missing something else?
“She’s tired of playing by the rules.” This came from the girl I didn’t know.
“Who are you?”
She flushed, her face growing red.
“Oh my God. See? This is what I was saying. She doesn’t know anything!” Sunday’s hands flew up in the air. “It’s so aggravating. We’re people too, Bren. Not everything is about the guys.”
I couldn’t help myself. “You seem upset.”
“Agh!”
I laughed. “Relax. I know, but what rules are you talking about? The girl code again?”
“No. The friendship code.”
There were so many codes.
“And yes, the girl code…not really. Never mind. The friendship code. She broke from the group because she’s dating someone from Fallen Crest Academy now. He said the crew system is stupid, so therefore, of course now Monica thinks it too. He’s brainwashed her into thinking you guys are the enemy. She believes it’s her mission to help destroy the crew system. You guys are in a lot of trouble because she’s going to talk. She’s going to say everything, and I mean everything.”
“But what could she even say? We get into fights?”
“That you guys hospitalized Alex Ryerson!” Sunday’s hands were up again. “That Cross took a gun when you guys went to find Alex. She’s going to talk about how you stabbed the principal, and how your brother runs the town and fixed it so you didn’t get any jail time. She’s probably going to make shit up too. You’re not hearing me. This is big, like, big big. Everyone knows that documentary is about the crews. Principal Broghers wants the system gone—like, evaporated. You guys are cockroaches to him. Shine the light, and the roaches scatter. That’s what he’s hoping will happen, and it’s working. Did you even know two crews disbanded this week?”
She moved toward me. “The Frisco crew is dunzo, and that other one. I never remember their name, but they disbanded too. It’s you guys and the Ryerson crew. That’s all—oh, and your brother’s, but they’re not in school. And aren’t they more bounty hunters now anyway? Are they even still a crew?”
That was the forever debate, were they or weren’t they? I lifted a shoulder. Even I couldn’t answer that.
I was hearing her, noting everything. Monica would be dealt with, but one thing was bugging me. “Why are you so upset about this?”
“BECAUSE I CARE ABOUT YOU AND YOUR STUPID CREW AND ZELLMAN AND I CARE!” Sunday yelled. “Okay?! I just do. I just care. I don’t even know why, and it’s so FRUSTRATING, but I do. Okay?!” She was shouting in my face, her breath blasting me.
I had the sudden impulse to hug her, but that was insane. Instead, I cracked a grin. “Thank you.”
She stopped. Her cheeks puffed up, and then she yelled, her hands in her hair. “OH MY GOD! SHE’S SO FRUSTRATING!”
“Hey, hey, hey.” Jordan waded into the room, his hands up as if to smooth things over. He turned, coming to stand beside me. Zellman remained in the hallway, frowning. I caught sight of others coming down the hallway, but Z shook his head at them. They stopped, but didn’t move away.
“What’s going on back here?”
“Your girl is so fucking frustrating!” Sunday was still shouting. “That’s what’s going on.”
“Tabatha?”
“NO! Bren!” She stabbed at me in the air.
“Yeah. I understand friendships,” Tabatha said. “Bren doesn’t. You’re either family or not with her. There’s no in-between.”
“Hey.” There was too in-between with me. “We’re...friends...kind of?”
“You blabbed about me to my boyfriend.”
My head inched back. “There’s a hierarchy. You’re beneath Jordan.”
Zellman started laughing.
Sunday twisted around to him. “This isn’t funny!”
“It kind of is.”
She got in his face. “It so isn’t! Have you not been listening? Monica and Lila broke from the group. Lila’s going to make a move on Cross, and Monica wants to destroy everything now.”
“Okay!” Jordan raised his voice to talk over Sunday. “We’ll handle Monica. Lila’s not really a problem, but who’s the guy Monica is dating?”
“Why?” Sunday stuck her bottom lip out, her hands on her hips. “So you guys can go beat him up?”
“What? No.” Jordan crossed his arms. “So we can have Channing’s crew go beat him up.”
One of the guys down the hallway heard and barked out a laugh. “Yeah. Right. Thought this was a high school thing to handle.”
Another guy started snickering before they moved away, their footsteps going to the kitchen.
The patio door opened, and I could hear Heather’s voice. “What’s going on in here?”
One of the guys said, “High school drama.”
Hearing this, Sunday screeched, “OH MY GOD! NO ONE IS TAKING ME SERIOUSLY!”
“Oh my GOD, Sunday!” Zellman touched her arm. “Settle the fuck down. We are, but we’re also fucking with you. Jordan is. Bren, too. Calm down.”
“Oh.” Her eyebrows pinched together. “You are?”
Jordan and I nodded. “It’s just really easy right now,” I added.
She stared at us, and we could almost see the steam rising out of her ears. She was winding up, getting ready to blast us again.
“Z,” I said.
He clapped a hand over her mouth just as she screamed. “Got it.”
He took her hand and pulled her from the room. They went outside a second later.
“Okay, then.” It was Tabatha’s turn. She was much calmer. “The Monica thing is a real problem, whether you guys are taking it serious or not.”
“She’s dating someone from Fallen Crest. That, by itself, is a big fucking mistake,” I told her. “So yes, we’re taking it seriously, but we just handled shit over there. We’ll deal with her, but we’ll do it our way.”
“So physical violence?” Tabatha swaggered over to her boyfriend. Her head tipped back. “You’re going to beat him up, right? You might’ve laughed off Sunday, but that’s how you handle things. That’s what you’ve been doing. Why would you suddenly change tactics?”
Jordan shared a look with me. “We don’t only use violence.”
I nodded. “We’ve threatened torture. That’s different.”
“You’re right. We have.” Jordan perked up, fighting another grin.
Tabatha shook her head. “I give up. Whatever. You do what you’re going to do.” She started to storm out, but stopped suddenly and wheeled back around. “It’s just that violence is not going to always work. It’s just not. Why do you think the cameras are here? Because that’s going to work, and it kinda bugs me to say this, because while I used to think the crew stuff was stupid—but hot and dangerous at the same time—I hate it now. I hate that my boyfriend is in the most dangerous and tightest crew there is. And I hate that I constantly worry about him. I hate that I have nightmares a ‘beatdown’ went too far. I hate that I wake up screaming sometimes. My mom runs in. And I really hate that I have to lie all the time so my boyfriend isn’t hated by people who love me, who worry about me. And I really, really hate that no matter how much I love him, three other people will always take precedence over me. That’s what I hate, but even with all of that, there is a need for the crews at our school. Because it is dangerous out there, but because I know when I’m in Roussou, I’m safe. I’m not going to get raped, or jumped, or robbed even. And it might only be in Roussou that I know I’m safe, but that means something. My cousin was raped at a party last year, and my first thought when I heard about it wasn’t about her. It was about me.” Her voice wobbled, growing thicker. “It was Thank God that’d never happen here. And I thought that because of the crews, because you guys wouldn’t let it happen. Everyone’s too scared of you. I mean, the Ryerson crew was scary for a minute because of Alex, but he’s fine now. They’re fine now. You get my drift. Alex got crazy for a couple months, but you guys put a stop to him. That’s my point.”
Alex. Drake.
I’d forgotten about him, what he said. I needed to tell the others.
I glanced at Jordan, but he wasn’t paying attention. He was fully focused on his girlfriend, and I touched the back of his arm. He looked down. I nodded toward her. Go to her.
His shoulders dropped. I hadn’t realized he’d been tensed up, but then he went to her.
“Baby,” he said softly, gathering her in his arms.
He pressed a kiss to her forehead, and she began to sob.
She grabbed the back of his shoulders and held on, burying her head in his chest. He cradled her, smoothing a hand down her hair and back.
Taz was the first to edge out of the room. I was behind her.
Jordan mouthed to me, “Thank you.”
I nodded, feeling déjà vu because we’d been here before.
People were congregating in the living room, except Channing’s friends. They were outside.
Cross and Race sat on the couches, waiting for us, elbows on their knees.
Cross lifted his head up as we came in. “Everything okay in there?”
I sank down on the couch beside him, patting his leg. “Later. Crew meeting.” Taz went to sink down on Race’s lap, and I met her gaze. “We’ve got a Monica problem to handle.”
Cross hovered above me, his lips on my throat as he moved in and out of me.
He’d snuck up when Channing and Heather snuck out. I assumed they went to her house, probably so they didn’t have to be so quiet. Her brother technically stayed with her, but I knew there were nights he wasn’t there. Tonight was probably one of those nights, and they thought they could wait till after three, making sure we kiddies were good and asleep and ignorant of them creeping out. But they were idiots—idiots I wasn’t going to educate.
No way.
Cross slid right back inside, moving nice and slowly—delicious. He moved his mouth to the other side of my throat, his hand and thumb rubbing over my breast. When he’d slipped inside, I thought it’d be a rough and hard ride. He’d been hungry earlier, but I was surprised. It was a slow and tender, making-love encounter, one that made me cry just before I crested, and I’d already done that. Twice.
I groaned as he began picking up speed, his hands sliding up my arms to entwine with mine. He held them pinned above my head, and he looked into my eyes. I was already being a girl, and when he did that, a couple more tears slipped out. He could see inside of me, be inside of me, and I almost couldn’t handle it.
“Show me,” he whispered, his lips nipping mine. He thrust harder at his command. “Show me you. I want to see you.”
God.
He tore a hole right in the middle of my chest, where I kept her buried. She was in there, along with all the pain from my past, all locked up nice and tight. He knew where I had her caged, and he wanted her to come out.
“Cross,” I whispered, a plea in my voice.
“Show me.” He let go of my hand, capturing the side of my face. His thumb rubbed over my lips. “I need to see you, Bren. Not the you in my arms right now, not the you you show everyone else. I need the real you, the one I know you hide. I need you.”
I gasped, and my back arched.
I felt her rising.
I couldn’t keep her down, not when Cross called.
I broke out, my voice hoarse and raw, “Only you. Only for you.”
He groaned, his eyes closing as he thrust again, pushing deep and holding. Then, the pain flooded me. Everywhere.
It wasn’t just pain. It was everything. I felt it all.
Love.
Agony.
Hurt.
Anger.
I could smell the sweat on our bodies. I could smell that Channing or Heather had laundered my pillowcase recently. I could smell the lilac perfume Cross had bought me as a gift and I was obsessed with. And I could taste my tears—not the ones from when he brought me to climax, only to have my body climb once again for another, but the tears from the past. The tears of missing my mother, of missing my father, of denying myself visits with him, the tears of holding back from my brother and not fully loving him as family, the tears of seeing Jordan hurting, of seeing Zellman ripped up about Sunday, and most of all, the tears of feeling the torment inside of Cross over his family being ripped apart.
I experienced it all.