Page 12 of Brazen Criminals

“Ben, you’re a fucking imbecile! There’s only Coors Light back here. I said two kegs, and one of those can’t be shit!”

“I got two kegs. What the fuck are you talking about?”

“If you got two kegs, where the fuck is the other one, Ben?”

I chuckle as I close the door behind me. Sometimes it feels good to be bad.

Chapter 6

Clara

Ipressmywristwhere Jansen snagged it to pull me out to his car. The sensation of his warm fingers lingers on my skin, and it weirds me out. Why would it still feel like he’s touching me? Why does his touch make me want to giggle? I don’t even know this guy.

“So, where are we headed?” he asks, a smile bright on his face.

“East side of campus, one of the new-build apartment complexes.”

“Got it.” He pulls out of the gravel parking area and into the alley.

There isn’t a single bit of mess inside the car. No empty wrappers or cups. No pens or change. Even Bryce’s car has stuff in the cupholders. Maybe these guys really do have OCD, because this is…odd. I almost feel like I should have brushed off my sneakers before I stepped in.

“Do you want to grab something to eat on the way?” Jansen asks.

I pull a granola bar out of my purse, not wanting to inconvenience the guy any more than I already have. “I’m good,” I say. “Do you want one? I have a couple.”

“Sure!” He smiles at me, green eyes twinkling, his longish hair in a floppy man-bun on top of his head. I hand him a granola bar and we both tear into them.

“Where should I put the wrapper? Your car is really…neat,” I say.

Jansen grabs the wrapper, his fingers brushing mine. “I’ll take care of it when we get back.” He shoves both wrappers into his pocket. “Most of us don’t like to leave evidence, er, messes around. Except RJ. He’s a total slob when he’s in the middle of a project. Plates and cups tower over the guy and he doesn’t even notice.”

So the guys have collective OCD. Note to self: try not to leave my stuff in the common areas. “What other dirt do you have? I feel like I’m walking into this blind,” I say.

Jansen laughs, and my tummy clenches. It’s a surprisingly pretty laugh, bells and joy. I want to hear it again. “I think we all just walked into this blind. How about we trade? I give you something, and you give me something about yourself? A question for a question?”

“I can do that. Me first. I have to learn about four people; you only have to learn about one.”

“Sounds fair.”

I think for a second. “How long have you guys known each other?”

“We all met freshman year. RJ and Trips were roommates. Walker was down the hall from them. I had a semester-long group work project with RJ, and we totally hit it off. This will be our third year all living together.”

“You’re all seniors, then?”

“Nah. We’re all going to be here five years. You know how hard it is when required classes fill up before it’s your turn to register.”

“For sure.” Emma is having the same trouble. Because I came in with all my AP credits, I technically started as a sophomore, so my lottery number has always been better than other people in my class. I don’t say that, though. It feels like bragging.

Jansen drums his fingers against the steering wheel. “My turn. Who was supposed to be your roommate, and why did it fall through?”

“Right to it, huh?” I look out the window. “My boyfriend Bryce and I were moving back in together. An hour after I started unpacking, he told me it wasn’t going to work—the living together bit—so here I am.”

“Are you okay with that?”

Am I okay? I’m mad, but more about the timing than anything. “I think so. I don’t want to force him into something he doesn’t want, but I wish he’d said something earlier, you know?”

Jansen starts to say something, then stops himself. “Your turn.”

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