Page 17 of Crew
Fuck this.
I stormed forward, nudging in front of Jordan so he had to step back to give me space. I got right in Race's face. I breathed out, softly, but I wasn't messing around. "You will stay away from me, because no matter what you think Drake told you, it was a lie." My back stiffened. This guy was creeping under my skin. "I was with Drake for six months. He didn't matter to me. Got that?"
Race stood above me, unmoved.
"You don't even know what he said."
I did. Or I thought I did, and if it was the secret Drake wasn't supposed to know, there'd be a problem.
"I don't care," I shot back.
The last bell rang.
Everyone was in class, everyone except us. And year after year, crews walked into their classes together. It was a tradition, one that I was sure Mr. Neeon hadn't thought to banish yet, but this year--for the first time since seventh grade--I went alone.
Drake knew a secret about me, a secret no one else knew.
It wasn't like we couldn't have secrets. I was in this with three other guys. It was ridiculous to think we all sat around in sweat lodges and shared our souls with each other. That was not what we did. It wasn't what I did, anyway. But this was a different situation now. The new guy had let it slip that there was a secret, and I knew Cross.
Jordan and Zellman would sit back and wait. They'd be patient, because if they tried to harass me, I'd pull my knife on them. I had authority issues, and they came out when people tried to make me do something, or say something, when I didn't want to. Putting it bluntly: they were scared of me. With reason.
Not Cross.
In every way, Cross was the exception to all the stupid rules I'd erected over the years, all the freaking walls I'd put in place. He would take a battering ram to anything between him and me, especially if he was convinced it was hurtful to me. I knew he was salivating at the chance for a go at me.
I walked alone to my first class.
That was a big fucking deal, but my head had been clouded over.
I hated the thought that Drake had told this guy something. I hated it, loathed it, it made my blood boil, and I was itching to hold my knife in my hand. I didn't give a shit if it was unfeminine of me, or unattractive. Those people who thought labels like that would make me act differently were morons. I didn't grow up living by other people's standards. I would not start now. Those types of people were never there for you. They didn't stick around after you were beaten to a bloody pulp and needed someone to call an ambulance for you. Those types were the first to scream, run, faint, or piss themselves. So no, this life was a hard one. You got tough in Roussou or you left. It was sink or swim, and yeah, the need to feel my knife in my hand so I didn't go apeshit was a coping mechanism for me.
A girl saw me feeling my knife and didn't blink twice at it. She turned and refocused on what the teacher was saying.
If only Cross would do the same thing, but I knew he wouldn't. And unlucky for me, he was in two of my classes. I felt the question burning in his mind.
It wasn't that I wanted to keep a secret from Cross... Well, I did. But not because it was him. I didn't want to tell anyone, but if I'd been willing to talk, it would've been to him.
No one knew my secret except Drake, and the circumstances where he'd found out had been beyond my control.
After fourth period, when the bell rang for our lunch, I knew my time was up.
A path opened in front of me, but not because of me this time. It was there for Cross, and he was bearing down on me. His eyes were smoldering, fierce, and his golden hair was pushed back. I knew the reason why; he'd been raking his hands through it the whole time. It wasn't real long, so for it to stay back showed me how frustrated he was with me.
I wasn't a girl who got scared, but if I had been, the sight of Cross heading my way, his head down and locked right on me, would've done the trick today.
Instead, I adjusted my books and met him at our lockers.
I turned my back to him as I opened my locker.
"Hey." Two hands hit the locker on either side of me. It was a short, quick slap as he trapped me in place. Like an exaggerated hello, but I got the message. He wasn't going to be ignored or avoided anymore.
I put my books into my locker and grabbed my keys and phone, closing it back up before facing him. He stood just behind me, close enough so I could feel the heat radiating from him, with his head down so our conversation would just be between us. Those same girls from this morning were gathering at Sunday's locker, and I heard their whispering. My eyes flicked over, more for a brief respite from Cross' silent demand, and they were there, eyes wide, watching us like goddamn spectators at the Coliseum.
As if we were gladiators squaring off for a fight.
Then again, maybe that's how we looked to them, to those who weren't us.
"Hey." Cross stepped close, almost touching me.
