Always Crew
Chapter 3

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 a*s. 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.”

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 b***d.”

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 f*****g 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 a*s at the grocery store?”

See. Knew he’d be bringing that up again.