Page 89 of Crew
The slight interest Race admitted earlier didn't seem that deep, not what Jordan was describing.
He snorted again. "Come on, Bren. You're not stupid. Or dense." He paused. When I didn't say anything, he laughed again. "For real? You really haven't noticed it?"
Now panic was rising in me. If he hated Cross, that meant...
No.
No way.
I frowned. "What are you talking about?"
But the touches had been increasing.
The looks too. Cross had always known me, but it was different lately. Lately it'd been like I needed his touch, and he answered me before I'd even asked.
The shivers. The tingles. The throbbing.
I had started to ache in places I never had for him.
My heart was pounding fast and loud, thumping against my ribcage, and I bit back a groan. The pills were starting to wane. That must've been it.
"He's jealous of how close you and Cross are."
Right. Because--
"You and Cross are tight. He's got your back. You have his."
Jordan slowed, coming to the main intersection. The light turned green, and he flipped on his left arrow. The hotel was a block up.
"Any guy who's going to look at you romantically is going to look at Cross sideways. If I didn't know better, I'd think you had something going on with him."
He slowed, coming to the hotel's parking lot.
"People outside of us don't understand," I told him. "That's how it is."
He pulled in, then drove to the end of the hotel. He parked in the very last slot. As he turned the engine off, he grinned at me. "Lucky for you, we'll get all that straightened out tonight." He wiggled his eyebrows and was out in a flash.
Cross and Zellman jumped out from the back.
I eased out, Jordan's words still with me.
Cross migrated closer. "You okay?"
My words were stuck in my throat, and those tingles shot through me, zapping all over. I didn't like this feeling--not knowing what to feel or how to feel, or even why I was feeling what I was.
"You guys coming?" Zellman bounced next to Jordan, going up and down on his heels.
We were about to make a move. Cross had questioned Race at school. That'd been his first shot to come clean. The Drake thing--I didn't know. I was with them. It didn't quite make sense. So this would be a second and more direct, more intimidating move.
The adrenaline was starting to build.
The anticipation of not knowing what we'd be walking into, knowing we couldn't control certain situations, knowing that in those moments we had to go with it--it was addicting. It made us feel reckless, but powerful. We were going in, and it was going to be one huge ride.
This. This was what set us apart. This made us stupid, but it made us dangerous too. And though we shouldn't--we knew we shouldn't--we loved it. We hungered for it.
Not fear.
Normal people feared this shit.
