Page 82 of Crew Princess
Cross caught it just as it was going in. “What are you doing?” He handed over the spray, still eyeing me like I’d lost my head.
“That shirt smells like campfire. My hair reeks. I’ll make do with this thing.”
He tsked me, going to his locker. Punching in the code, he bent inside as I sprayed myself and put the body spray back in Taz’s locker. Cross had a shirt in his hand when I turned back.
“What’s that?”
“A shirt.”
“Is it clean?”
He lifted it to his nose, took a big whiff, and started coughing. Then, cracking a grin, he handed it over. “I’m kidding. Yes. It’s an old shirt of mine I put in there last week. I’ve not worn it. Take it. It’s better than a sweatshirt. You know the librarian has a thing against sweatshirts.”
I shuddered. He was right. She thought they were coats. All coats and hats had to be off to step inside her library.
I did the whole switcharoo again, pulling it on under my sweatshirt.
Cross’ smirk was now a shit-eating grin, and his eyes were latched onto my chest.
I paused, drawing a circle over my breasts. “You’re watching me like you’re sex-deprived.”
I knew he was not.
He grinned a happy little grin, transforming his face from hot and smoldering to an adorable puppy my arms were aching to grab.
God, I loved this guy.
“I’m just enjoying the show. And thinking how I’m going to buy an oversized sweatshirt to zip around both of us. Your mission will be to change your clothes inside.” His grin was wicked again, his eyes darkening. “That image is going to get me through the rest of the day.”
We were late, in the hallway. We were bound to get in trouble, but I couldn’t stop myself. I reached over, touching his lips. I said softly, “You’re happy.”
It wasn’t a question.
He paused, catching my hand, and considered my statement. He hugged me to him, but he didn’t lean down for a kiss. He continued holding my gaze.
“Yeah. I think I am.”
I leaned back a little, tilting my head to the side. “Because of your brother?”
Cross shifted his book to his other hand and dropped it on the floor. Then both of his hands splayed out on my back, slipping under my/his shirt. He rested his chin on my shoulder, and I wound my arms around him, my fingers sliding up to his hair.
I knew without looking that his eyes were closed.
“I don’t know,” he whispered, kissing my shoulder where the shirt’s collar had slipped to the side. I felt his entire body seize up in a breath and exhale. “He didn’t know who I was.”
“Didn’t seem like it, no.”
“You think he was lying?”
“I don’t know.”
I drew circles on the back of his neck. In this moment, we were boyfriend and girlfriend. No crew. No beef. No siblings dared interrupt.
“I don’t think he knows.”
I nodded. “Are you going to tell Taz?”
Cross stiffened and pulled back. I lifted my head to meet his gaze, and he gave me such a sad smile. His hands moved to my hips, keeping me anchored against him.
