Page 52 of Crew
What was this guy doing? Was he for real?
I felt Cross' gaze on me, but I couldn't bring myself to look at him. I didn't want to see whatever was there--disappointment, or something worse. An image of how he'd looked at me last night, before he took his shirt off, flashed in my memory. That tickling/tingling was coming back.
I held my hands up. "I'm out." I jerked my head in Race's direction. "He's fucking with you all."
I pushed past Cross, then past Monica and Sunday, who seemed entranced where they stood behind us.
I could feel myself breaking out in hives. I didn't want a Drake 2.0 situation.
Taz must've seen me leaving, and I was shoving through the doors to the parking lot when I heard her voice behind me.
"Hey! Bren! Hey."
I was going to ignore her, then remembered Cross had driven us to school that morning.
"You move fast. Wow." Taz was a little out of breath when she caught up to me. Bracing a hand on my arm, she waited until her breathing evened out, then gave me a rueful look. "I was head cheerleader last year, and now I can't catch up to you walking down the hallway." She placed her hand on her hip. "My, how the mighty have fallen."
"You were the head cheerleader?"
"No." She waved in the air, twirling her wrist. "I added it for dramatic effect. Thought it sounded funnier." She waited, watching me.
I wasn't laughing.
"Huh. I must've been wrong."
I pointed to Cross' truck. "I need a ride home."
"Oh." She jerked a thumb over her shoulder. "I'm sure Cross will be coming in a bit."
Not the point. I went through the names I could call to give me a ride. Channing. Heather.
So, yeah.
The real question: wait for Cross? Or walk on my own? Normally, a walk was fine, but I wasn't feeling it with the heat today. The sun was blaring too much, so I had no choice.
I plopped down on the curb, and Taz sat with me. The last of lingering students headed past us, but there'd be another wave coming out in twenty minutes as the athletes went to the football field, tennis courts, track, and volleyball courts.
"Um..." Taz hugged her bag on her lap. "I have to prepare you for something."
"What?" I looked over. "Don't you have practice too? Didn't you join the squad again?"
"What?" She frowned at me. "Oh. No. I was just helping them out with some things yesterday. You know, because I was one of the managers last year, but no. Nope. I'm not on the squad anymore." She crossed her arms, or tried. The bag got in her way.
I eyed her bag. "You have a slight hoarding problem."
She looked down. "Huh?"
The bag was bulging. She'd brought more stuff to her locker the first day than Zellman could stuff into his locker.
"I'm just saying. It's starting early," I told her.
"What's starting early?"
"You need a hoarder's prevention treatment plan." I winced, hearing myself. I'd started it as a joke, but now I'd channeled The Badger. Lame.
"Oh." Taz laughed, waving me off. "I get that from our mom. Cross gets the other gene from our dad. He hates having anything extra. If he could do without his bed and desk in his room, he would." She raised her hands, trying to reach around her bag again. She failed. Again. Finally she leaned back, her hands propping her up from behind her. "But back to the cheerleading squad. They'd like me to join. Sunday wants to be the bully, but not do any of the actual work. I'm not going to take her crap this year. Some of the girls want me to join to help contain her, but they're on their own. They gotta stand on their own two feet. They can do it. They'll have a good base."
I eyed her with a sideways glance. And she said Cross and I had our own language.
