Page 113 of Crew
Once we got there, he opened the door and helped me in. He patted my leg, then shut the door. He was in on his side within a second, and we were pulling out of the lot.
He drove away as two cop cars turned toward the school.
That's when I lost it.
I'd stabbed the principal.
Cross and I talked once my head was clearer. I didn't know how long that had taken. It felt like hours, but it might've just been one. Time had started to blur. My shakes, the damned wet shit all over my face, and the trembling had subsided.
Now we knew there was no other option. We had to make the smart move: We went to my brother.
Cross called Channing and asked him to come home. While we were waiting for him, Jordan and Zellman called from the police station. They'd been arrested, along with Alex Ryerson and five of his crew members. There'd been a free-for-all after I let loose.
Jordan dropped the bomb that both Principal Neeon and Mr. Jenston had been taken to the hospital. Then he dropped a second bomb: the principal was in police custody.
"Are you serious?" I leaned over Cross to speak into his phone.
"Swear to God," Jordan said. "I saw 'em put the handcuffs on him and everything. That fucker's going to get charged."
Cross frowned. "Is Zellman with you?"
"They have him in the same cell."
I leaned back, and Cross grabbed my hand. He didn't look at me, but he laced our fingers together.
I looked down at them, resting between us, and a feeling of "rightness" swept through me.
It grew stronger and stronger with each touch, but since I was being all honest with myself--it'd been there since the beginning.
Cross had been right. It had been just lust for Drake, not something more or something real. But this... Holding Cross' hand, I remembered all the times he'd been there for me, the nights I'd slept in his closet, how I always went to him.
There was no wrong when it came to us.
I looked up and saw him watching me, smiling faintly.
I smiled back at him and tried to focus on whatever Jordan was saying.
"...see, won't we?"
A motorcycle engine roared outside the window. I didn't have to look. Channing had arrived.
The front door banged open, and he stormed into the living room. Tearing off his sunglasses, he snapped, "Hang up."
"We're talking to Jordan," I told him. "He has information from the police station."
