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 someone 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.