Crew Read online

  Fuck this.

  I stormed forward, nudging in front of Jordan so he had to step back to give me space. I got right in Race's face. I breathed out, softly, but I wasn't messing around. "You will stay away from me, because no matter what you think Drake told you, it was a lie." My back stiffened. This guy was creeping under my skin. "I was with Drake for six months. He didn't matter to me. Got that?"

  Race stood above me, unmoved.

  "You don't even know what he said."

  I did. Or I thought I did, and if it was the secret Drake wasn't supposed to know, there'd be a problem.

  "I don't care," I shot back.

  The last bell rang.

  Everyone was in class, everyone except us. And year after year, crews walked into their classes together. It was a tradition, one that I was sure Mr. Neeon hadn't thought to banish yet, but this year--for the first time since seventh grade--I went alone.

  Drake knew a secret about me, a secret no one else knew.

  It wasn't like we couldn't have secrets. I was in this with three other guys. It was ridiculous to think we all sat around in sweat lodges and shared our souls with each other. That was not what we did. It wasn't what I did, anyway. But this was a different situation now. The new guy had let it slip that there was a secret, and I knew Cross.

  Jordan and Zellman would sit back and wait. They'd be patient, because if they tried to harass me, I'd pull my knife on them. I had authority issues, and they came out when people tried to make me do something, or say something, when I didn't want to. Putting it bluntly: they were scared of me. With reason.

  Not Cross.

  In every way, Cross was the exception to all the stupid rules I'd erected over the years, all the freaking walls I'd put in place. He would take a battering ram to anything between him and me, especially if he was convinced it was hurtful to me. I knew he was salivating at the chance for a go at me.

  I walked alone to my first class.

  That was a big fucking deal, but my head had been clouded over.

  I hated the thought that Drake had told this guy something. I hated it, loathed it, it made my blood boil, and I was itching to hold my knife in my hand. I didn't give a shit if it was unfeminine of me, or unattractive. Those people who thought labels like that would make me act differently were morons. I didn't grow up living by other people's standards. I would not start now. Those types of people were never there for you. They didn't stick around after you were beaten to a bloody pulp and needed someone to call an ambulance for you. Those types were the first to scream, run, faint, or piss themselves. So no, this life was a hard one. You got tough in Roussou or you left. It was sink or swim, and yeah, the need to feel my knife in my hand so I didn't go apeshit was a coping mechanism for me.

  A girl saw me feeling my knife and didn't blink twice at it. She turned and refocused on what the teacher was saying.

  If only Cross would do the same thing, but I knew he wouldn't. And unlucky for me, he was in two of my classes. I felt the question burning in his mind.

  It wasn't that I wanted to keep a secret from Cross... Well, I did. But not because it was him. I didn't want to tell anyone, but if I'd been willing to talk, it would've been to him.

  No one knew my secret except Drake, and the circumstances where he'd found out had been beyond my control.

  After fourth period, when the bell rang for our lunch, I knew my time was up.

  A path opened in front of me, but not because of me this time. It was there for Cross, and he was bearing down on me. His eyes were smoldering, fierce, and his golden hair was pushed back. I knew the reason why; he'd been raking his hands through it the whole time. It wasn't real long, so for it to stay back showed me how frustrated he was with me.

  I wasn't a girl who got scared, but if I had been, the sight of Cross heading my way, his head down and locked right on me, would've done the trick today.

  Instead, I adjusted my books and met him at our lockers.

  I turned my back to him as I opened my locker.

  "Hey." Two hands hit the locker on either side of me. It was a short, quick slap as he trapped me in place. Like an exaggerated hello, but I got the message. He wasn't going to be ignored or avoided anymore.

  I put my books into my locker and grabbed my keys and phone, closing it back up before facing him. He stood just behind me, close enough so I could feel the heat radiating from him, with his head down so our conversation would just be between us. Those same girls from this morning were gathering at Sunday's locker, and I heard their whispering. My eyes flicked over, more for a brief respite from Cross' silent demand, and they were there, eyes wide, watching us like goddamn spectators at the Coliseum.

  As if we were gladiators squaring off for a fight.

  Then again, maybe that's how we looked to them, to those who weren't us.

  "Hey." Cross stepped close, almost touching me.

  "Hey." I met his gaze, feeling seared from the contact. He was my best friend, and that meant he knew what was going on inside of me more than I did. It was uncomfortable at times, times like now. There was a reason I'd kept that secret a secret, for fuck's sake.

  He let out a frustrated sound, raking his hands through his hair again before straightening. "Look." His hand fell, hitching on his jeans. "You gotta tell me, especially if it's something a Ryerson has over you."

  I jerked my head in a nod. He was giving me time, but he was right. I would have to tell them, eventually.

  "Lunch?"

  I hated this. I hated keeping this secret from him, that night burning in my throat, but damn. It was better if he didn't know, if they all didn't know. I fell in step with him as we headed to the parking lot. Juniors and seniors got open lunch. We could leave to grab something, then come back.

  A moment later, I wasn't surprised to find Jordan and Zellman behind us.

  "What was he talking about?" Jordan asked immediately.

  Zellman was on follow-up. "I didn't think you and Drake were that serious."

  "We weren't." A knot formed in my stomach.

  "You seemed affected by whatever Drake told him," Jordan countered. "There something we should know about?"

  I stopped in front of my Jeep and turned around. A whole group of students had followed us to the parking lot.

  From the whispering I'd heard, and the furtive glances sent our way all morning, I had no doubt word had spread fast about what happened before first period. I just didn't know if the interest was my altercation with Alex, Race's arrival, or the fact that we had a new guy in school.

  I gestured to Sunday Barnes and some of her friends, who had stopped a few feet from us. They were waiting for something.

  My eyes slid to Zellman. "Did you find out last night, Z?"

  "What?" His eyebrows pulled together. He scratched his chin.

  Jordan looked at the crowd and rolled his eyes. "Who cares. Look, we just need to know what's going on if we're going to have your back. Okay?" He gentled his tone. "Tell us what we need to know, when we need to know it."

  Cross didn't say anything, but I felt his presence. He wouldn't push, not when they were with us, but the temporary moment of peace I'd gotten from him had a time limit. I could almost hear the clock ticking away, but I was glad for his support.

  The knot in my stomach loosened, just a bit. "I will." I nodded toward the girls again. "That's not going to happen now."

  The girls edged closer, and Z looked back and forth between us and them. An eager smile pulled at his mouth, and I sighed. "Go get 'em."

  Zellman had been slouched. He shot upright. "Yeah?"

  Jordan frowned. "You sure?" He didn't sound like he was in any hurry to leave.

  I nodded. "Go. I'm sure." I waved at Zellman. "I'm sending you lots of luck if you still need to find out if they're real."

  He began backing up, heading toward the girls. He winked. "I found out last night. They're not." Then he turned, throwing his arm around Sunday's shoulders. "Hey, boobs."

  She te
nsed under his touch, and as her friends started laughing, she smacked his chest. He ducked his head, whispering something to her. He started to draw them away from us, toward his own truck. As they went, I could see Sunday's smile go rigid, then soften.

  Jordan lingered. "You're positive you're okay if we take off with them?"

  I glanced to Cross. He moved to lean against my Jeep, and I knew he wasn't going anywhere.

  I nodded. "I'm sure. Go and flirt away."

  Jordan began backing away too, and he gave a wave before he turned around and headed after them. A few of the girls were looking over their shoulders. I saw the hope in their eyes. When all of them except one kept watching, despite Jordan's approach, I knew who they were really waiting for.

  I turned to my best friend. "You have a fan club."

  Cross snorted, but didn't respond.

  We watched as Jordan caught up to the group. One of the girls went up to him, and he lifted his arm, letting it fall over her shoulders. Her arm wrapped around his waist, and slowly, the entire group headed over to where Jordan's truck was parked, though a few girls still snuck glances back at Cross.

  Another group of students walked right past us, interrupting the girls' view. I felt the break from their attention, and Cross turned to me.

  He got right to the point. "Is it bad, what he knows?"

  There it was. That punch again.

  Feeling tears threatening, I scowled. I didn't fucking cry. Ever.

  "Seriously?" I was more asking myself. I was mortified to be a girl.

  As I started for the door of my Jeep, Cross blocked me. He held his hands up. "I just want to know how bad it is."

  He was pushing, right after he'd told me he wouldn't.

  I almost growled, shoving him back a step, the gesture so small no one could see because he was that close. "You know it is or I'd tell you."

  I tried again to get into my vehicle.

  His chin jutted out. "You liked Drake, but you weren't that serious. I know you better than anyone. I'm hoping that guy was bluffing and he doesn't know whatever it is you don't even want me to know, but what if he does? If it's that bad, maybe you should tell me sooner rather than later."

  Fuck. That was my worst nightmare. Cross had put it into words.

  He stepped close to me. "I racked my brain all morning, but I can't think of something you'd be okay with Drake knowing and not me."

  I felt a knife in my lungs. "Cross, stop it." I started to shake my head.

  "Bren." It was a soft and quiet command.

  That almost broke me, coming from him. Anyone else, hell no. Cross, any day of the week.

  "Stop." I put a warning in my voice. "I mean it."

  We stood there. We were at an impasse.

  His eyes narrowed. "What can it be? There's nothing I could know about you that would hurt..." His frown deepened, and he trailed off. "Unless it hurts someone else?"

  I still didn't want to say, but he was making this hard. I squeezed my hands into fists. "Look, I will tell you, but give me time. Please? You're right. If he knows, you guys have to know. But not yet." I wasn't ready. It was plain and simple. It had been one of the worst nights of my life, and it didn't come easily to my lips.

  He let out a sigh. "Fine." He moved aside, his hand brushing against mine, and I knew that was his apology for pushing me. That side of Cross didn't come out too often, and rarely toward me. His gesture meant a lot.

  I unlocked the Jeep, but stopped as my hand closed around the handle. I looked back. Cross still stood at the end of my vehicle, his head down. He was deep in thought.

  My heart tugged. I didn't like feeling like I'd let him down or hurt him. That was the last thing I wanted.

  "I'm not proud of it," I called.

  His head lifted. I'd just confirmed what he thought. We might not share our innermost feelings, but maybe he was right. Maybe this was something I should've told him and the others long ago. Still, the thought of saying the words, telling them what I'd done--it stuck in my throat.

  "I'm going to skip."

  "Yeah?" He frowned.

  The unrest was too much in me. I was too on edge. "Yeah. Find me after school."

  He nodded, our eyes holding for a second. If he didn't find me, I'd find him. It was how we worked.

  I got inside my Jeep. I was already off to a stellar year.

  I drove home after grabbing a burger.

  Taz was the good student. Not me. And I was okay with that. Totally and completely okay with that. I was not the type of teenager to worry about SAT scores, college applications, or scholarships. I'd be happy if I graduated, and I knew I wasn't the only Monroe to go that route.

  It was early afternoon, but I knew my brother would be at his bar.

  He and my cousin had renamed it Tuesday Tits a year ago. It wasn't a strip club, but they certainly got the customers hoping for one. I overheard my brother's girlfriend talking about his branding, and though I didn't pay attention to that stuff, I did know the bar was doing well. Channing had bought it from our dad, and then Scratch bought in. These days Scratch did more of the day-to-day running of it, but my brother had the controlling share.

  And why I was thinking about all this was beyond me.

  I walked inside, tossing my keys on the kitchen counter.

  Heather had her own bar and grill to run, so she never lingered at the house. If she did come over, it was just to see Channing. I was expecting an empty house, but then I heard, "I forgot you guys have open campus for lunch."

  I whirled to see Heather coming in from the patio.

  I slumped against the kitchen counter, a hand on my chest. "Announce yourself, would you?" As soon as the words left, I grimaced. I held up one of my hands. "Sorry. I thought everyone was gone."

  Her eyes were tight as she pulled the screen door the rest of the way shut behind her. Holding up a pack of cigarettes and a lighter, she thrust them at me. "Take these. I almost broke."

  Heather had been a smoker as long as I knew her, but she was trying to quit. She'd been trying to quit for the last year, though I knew she'd relapsed at moments.

  I didn't say anything about it, just took the stuff and put it in a baggie before sliding that into my bag.

  She collapsed into a chair at the table, watching me, a pained look etched over her face. Her shoulders lifted up and down. "You have half a day today?" Her hands drummed over the table.

  I reached over for the bowl of candy we kept close and tossed a few at her. "Something like that."

  She caught 'em with a flick of her wrist, pulling the wrapper off and tossing them into her mouth in almost the same motion. It was a practiced habit, for both of us.

  Heather was one of the cool ones.

  She'd grown up working in her dad's bar and grill, and she'd taken it over a few years back. She had a badass, no-nonsense attitude. And she looked pretty much the complete opposite of me. I had dark brown hair, usually just letting it hang down, and dark eyes. She looked a little like Cross and Taz, with this dirty-sexy blonde hair. She'd talked about dying it platinum blonde before the renaming party for Channing and Scratch's bar, but she never did. I thought it might be some kind of bad bedroom joke between her and Channing, but I never asked.

  That was gross.

  I could sometimes hear them having sex, which was enough to suppress my appetite. I used that as an excuse to take off, but I was usually itching to go anyway. For being the rabbits they were, most of the time they kept it quiet, but I wasn't stupid. I knew why they suddenly had a fan blaring at full force, or if Channing disappeared halfway through the night. He was either dealing with his own stuff or heading to Heather's.

  When that happened, I was never far behind him--just not literally behind him. I'd head to Cross' place.

  Heather sighed, adjusting in her seat. She was trying to calm down so she didn't fidget so much, but I could tell it was a struggle. I noticed her skin-tight jeans, ripped and faded around the knees.

  "Cool jeans."r />
  "What?" She looked down. "Oh yeah." She rested her hand on her leg, tapping there. "Wait." She looked over at my jeans, and her lip curled. "Gotcha."

  We wore the same pair.

  Different adult and I'd have a smart-ass thought, but this was Heather.

  "How pissed was my brother this morning?" I asked.

  She grimaced. "You want me to be honest or...not answer?"

  I grabbed a water bottle from the fridge and let the door slam shut on its own. "That bad, huh?"

  After we woke Heather up, Channing had started grilling me. He'd wanted to know where I'd been, who I was with, was I okay... He knew most of the answers. I was always with the guys. But he just kept going with the same questions our mother had drilled him with when he was in middle school.

  Then came the questions about my phone. Why couldn't I use it? Was it broken? Had I lost it? The threats were third in line. If I didn't take his calls seriously, he was going to put a tracking app on my phone. He wasn't above stalking his own little sister. There'd be consequences if I didn't start checking in with him more.

  I never admitted it, but part of me wondered how long it would take him to follow through with the threats. Shit. If I'd been my kid, I would've had the GPS app on my phone the first day. Or even worse, I'd have switched out the whole plan. I wouldn't have wasted my time with threats. I would've installed the apps before I gave me the phone. I was paying the bills, so I could have access to anything I wanted on there. Privacy be damned.

  "Sorry I woke you up this morning," I told Heather, meeting her eyes.

  I'd pulled their bedroom door shut, hoping she would go back to bed, but she hadn't. As Channing began his tirade in the hallway, the door had opened back up. She slipped by us to go make coffee and breakfast.

  "It's more him than you," she said with a sigh. "He just goes off, and then I know he's not coming back to bed. It's safe to say your brother is feeling a bit more sympathy for your parents' situation back when he was in school."

  Well, parent. And I didn't think he did. He and our dad were toxic. And it only got worse after Mom died. Bringing my bag of food and my water, I sat across from her at the table.

  We didn't talk for a minute, until I noticed her watching my food, then my arms before a wistful expression softened her mouth. Her eyes darted to my bag, where I'd put her cigarettes.