Always Crew

“Z.”

He raised his eyebrows. “I said what I said.”

“We have a game to get to, remember?” Jordan was sounding bored.

Right. My dickweed’s game.

I jerked my chin up to Brock. “It’s been enlightening, see ya around.” I started for my truck.

“Hey.”

I looked back.

He was frowning, staring at me as if he were reassessing me. “We kept her out of the loop for her benefit, not the job. We like her.”

“She’ll appreciate that.” I moved for my vehicle.

“Also…” Jordan piped up.

I glanced back at Jordan. He was staring hard at Bren’s boss.

He continued, “She’s loyal as fuck, and she can kick ass. You fuck her over, and all three of us will fuck you over. You might not give a shit about us, thinking we’re young, but trust me, dude. We’re just the first in line.”

Brock’s gaze grew hooded, but he didn’t reply as the rest of us got in our trucks.

Jordan nodded at me. “Soccer field?”

I nodded back. “Bren’s there?”

Zellman nodded, probably to join in. “She’s with Aspen.”

Soccer field, it was.

BREN

College sports sucked.

I mean, they weren’t fun.

They were.

They were boring.

They weren’t boring.

They were predictable.

Not predictable at all.

They were quiet.

They so weren’t quiet.

And I was here, sitting on the bleachers, having a whole argument with myself because I wasn’t regretting not going to college. Not one bit. Nope. Not at all. Except… being here, sitting here, I was regretting it. Kinda.

I mean, not a ton.

A little bit.

Somewhat.

There was a twinge, but only a twinge.

Why hadn’t I gone to college?

That’s right, because I didn’t think I was worthy of it.

I drew up short, the first time admitting that to myself.

I hadn’t thought I was worthy back then.

How fucked is that?

And now?

I was sitting here, next to Aspen, glaring at a bunch of bitches who were throwing Blaise’s girlfriend nasty glares, and I was feeling some weird déjà vu because I wanted to pull my knife out just to hear those girls gasp in fear.

I didn’t, but I wanted to. Badly.

So yeah, there was a twinge, but not enough to apply for next semester.

“Yo.” Zellman dropped down on the bleacher next to me. He gave a nod to Aspen and me before leaning forward, his elbows on his knees. “How’s Dickweed doing?”

It wasn’t said with affection, but Dickweed was the reason we were all here.

Aspen laughed. “He’s doing good, but he always does good.”

She wasn’t being biased. I didn’t care for Cross’ brother, but I had to give him his due. He played hard and ruthless on the field. Today was no different. He already scored the first goal. He was currently running after another player looking like he wanted to murder him. Getting to him, he moved his feet around, and somehow the ball was kicked clean away from the opponent.

Blaise had it. He pulled it back.

Another opponent was coming from the right.

Blaise saw him.

The first opponent was coming from the left.

Blaise kicked the ball behind him to his teammate, darted past the two, and his teammate kicked it right back. It happened within three seconds, and then Blaise was off running with the ball.

Aspen sighed. “He’s got some extra energy today. He’s pissed, but I can’t figure about what.” She shrugged, a small smile on her face. “Guess I’ll find out later.”

I frowned at her. “Find out in a good way or…?”

“Oh.” She laughed. “A good way. Always a good way.”

I nodded, but still frowned.

Jordan and Cross were walking across the bleachers at the bottom, looking right at us.

Zellman shifted back, his hand raised to him.

Jordan nodded, taking the steps two at a time. Cross trekked the path coming across the bleachers straight to me, ignoring how a few of the girls were watching him the whole time. Okay. More than a few, a whole lot more.

A weird, unsettling feeling moved in my chest.

I remember how Cross had been before he’d been with me. He slept around. Girls liked him, and even when we got together, there were still girls after him, but I felt like I had a modicum of control in that environment. They knew me, or at least knew about me. I was feared, but here…it was a whole different ballgame.

I was not known.

I was not feared.

I was not even around.

That twinge was acting up again. Just a small fraction, though.

Zellman took the row behind us as Jordan came in from the side. Cross came from the bottom and dropped into Zellman’s vacated seat. He dropped a kiss on my forehead, moving and murmuring in my ear, “Hey. You look weirded out.”

I shrugged, but said back, “I can’t cut all the girls wanting you. I don’t know how to process this feeling.”

He drew back, frowning at me, then he laughed. Cupping my face in both hands, he moved down until his lips were on mine. And then, he proceeded to kiss me. It wasn’t a chaste, polite in public kiss. It was an indecent kiss, one where he was enjoying me, claiming me, and making me start to pant for him.