Page 86 of Crew
"New crew rule: no one talks about my vagina, unless you want me to start referring to your two-inch, soft, limp dicks." I growled. The happy pills weren't helping.
"Cooch isn't bad."
"Say it one more time, and I'll wait until you're drunk, then tattoo the words 3 Second Man on your ass."
"Dude. Just stop." Jordan shook his head at him, half-laughing still.
Zellman frowned, itching his head. "I will. Yeah, but cooch isn't bad. Is it?"
"Fucking A, Z!"
"Sorry. Sorry." He ducked his head, holding his hands up. "I'll stop. Sorry, B."
"So we're set?" Cross asked. "We deal with Race first, then figure out the best way of handling Alex?"
One by one, we all nodded.
"I want to be there," I said.
They turned to me again. I frowned a little. "Not that you'd purposely cut me out, but I'm injured, and I know you guys might question him without me because you think you don't want to bother me. But I'm there. I want to take part."
Cross looked at the others again. "We do it as a crew, or we don't do it at all."
We were about to thank Race, in our way.
Cross took me home.
We made it to my room before Channing appeared. I was prepared for an interrogation, but surprisingly, none came. He just asked if I was okay. Albeit, he asked a bit gruffly, but he seemed appeased once I told him I was fine. He didn't question why I'd been at Alex's place or ask how the whole thing had happened, like a normal parent would.
Heather lingered in the doorway after Channing left, biting her lip, her hair in a braid. She kept looking me up and down, as if searching for any outward injury that hadn't been treated. She kept pausing at Cross' hand on my hip. He wasn't helping me stand or anything, but the touch was nice. I found myself leaning into him, into his hand, and he flexed it in response. He tugged me even tighter against him.
"Where are the other two?" Heather asked.
"They were tired," Cross said. "Went home."
Her smirk told us she didn't believe him. "Okay." She nodded in the direction Channing had gone. "He's not questioning you because it's your crew business, same as with him."
Heather was our go-between.
I wasn't sure if that was a good thing, but I nodded. I got it. "Thanks."
She raised an eyebrow. "No need to thank me. Just doing my duty as someone who cares about both of you--you know, trying to smooth out sibling fights before they happen."
"Is that what he does for you and Brandon?"
She laughed this time. "Yeah. Right. He makes it worse, views it as his personal reality show."
I felt a pinch at her words.
Channing was funny, and viewed as a charmer, but not with me. Never with me.
I wasn't worthy enough.
I firmed my jaw, swallowing thickly. As if sensing the storm in me, Cross' hand smoothed over my back. His fingers slipped under my shirt and rested on my skin.
"So," Heather continued, her eyes noting that touch before flicking back to my face. "A normal girl who had been in a beatdown would stay in bed, watch movies, and have a good, old-fashioned cry fest. I'm assuming you're heading right back out?"
The painkillers were making everything a bit fuzzy, but I nodded. "Yep."
