Page 129 of Crew
My love for the crew outweighed my distrust for him. That's all I had at the moment.
His head bobbed forward as he got in his truck. They could wait for hours. I didn't give a shit, because I was going to take my time getting back into that vehicle. Jordan knew it too. He turned the engine on, and just blasted the music. I could see him and Zellman talking to each other.
Cross was looking too, and after a few seconds, his hand came to rest on my hip. He asked in a low voice, "You okay?"
No. Not even close. "I don't trust him."
He glanced back inside. "Yeah, but we'll have to see his game to play."
When he looked at me, I saw the same mistrust lurking in his eyes.
I frowned. "What are you thinking?"
"If it's worth anything, I don't think he wants to oust you or anything." His hand flexed on my hip. "Not that it would work. We'd just splinter. He knows that."
"He's already our leader."
Cross gave me a half-grin. "Which you kinda stripped from him just now."
I hadn't. Wait--I hadn't meant to. "Nothing's official."
I crossed my arms over my chest. We hadn't had nominations or voted. Jordan could be the leader today, but Cross could be it tomorrow. It could evolve, and maybe it should. Maybe Jordan wouldn't have such a big ego then.
"We're crew," I added. "That's all we are."
"I know." Cross' hand fell away. "You're not getting any arguing from me."
They were still talking. We could hear laughter now. Their heads were bent together, looking at someone's phone.
I sighed. "Let's go to this cabin, then get home tomorrow."
I slid into the back seat, all the way over until I was right behind Jordan. Cross got in behind me, and as he shut the door, Jordan caught my gaze in the rearview mirror.
I saw the unease there. That gave me a small piece of satisfaction. He could sweat, knowing exactly where I was.
He could worry about his backside.
"Hey." Cross approached me in the cabin and handed me a beer. "Here."
I took it, leaning forward from my seat in the screened-in porch. My legs were up on a footrest. "Thanks."
He sat in the chair beside me, and we looked out to the bonfire where Jordan and Zellman were sitting, watching something on Jordan's phone.
"They're watching cat videos," Cross said, and I heard the laughter in his voice. "We're the fiercest in Roussou, and half our crew are giggling like schoolgirls over cat videos."
"The booze helps." I reached mine out without looking, and we clinked our bottles together.
"Jordan's downed ten beers on his own."
The cabin Jordan got for us was owned by one of his uncle's friends. It was small and quaint: two bedrooms, a small kitchen, and a living room with a patio that opened to an outdoor deck. The bonfire pit was right behind it, with a river behind that. As soon as we arrived, everyone went swimming. The guys did a lot of dunking and wrestling. I just swam. Jordan glanced at me once, and I caught a slight gleam there. He had considered dunking me, but I gave him a warning look. The gleam vanished, and he grabbed Zellman, throwing him over his shoulder instead.
Now, after a grilled steak dinner, it was a little after ten.
My anger had thawed a bit. I still felt it, but it wasn't so much on the surface. I glanced at my beer and knew the booze was helping. This was my sixth.
"Jordan doesn't understand."
"What?" I looked over at Cross.
