Page 38 of Crew Princess
“No way—”
I smiled. “If I see you without him five feet away, I’ll put you in the hospital.” And because I wasn’t sure if she was narc-y girl, I added, “You won’t know how you got there. You won’t know who actually put you there, but you’ll wake up and only have yourself to blame.”
She seethed.
Tabatha was grinning, biting her lip.
Taz frowned.
“What?” Lila sputtered, pointing at Harrison. “Why aren’t you giving him the same threat?”
“Because he’s the student council president. Even drunk, I’ve got a feeling he abides every law and doesn’t break any rules.”
“He broke a rule just coming here tonight.”
Harrison coughed, holding a hand up. “Uh. Technically, I didn’t because I made sure to walk in with Roussou people, and I was planning to stick close to the Roussou crowd tonight.”
“Why are you here?” Lila shoved out of the group, facing off against him. Her hands found her hips.
“Because it’s District Weekend.” He spoke as if that made perfect sense. “I’m the president of our student body. If something happens that could affect us at school, I prefer to have first-hand knowledge.” He paused a beat. “Why are you here?”
Lila had no response.
Tabatha laughed. “She’s here because she’s hoping Cross and Bren suddenly break up and she can get lucky.”
Lila whirled around, paling. “Bitch!”
Tabatha waved a hand. “Get lost, Lila. I don’t think there’s a place for you in my friend group any longer.”
Blood drained from Lila’s face, leaving her as white as a sheet. “What? Why?”
“Because I don’t like how you talked to Harrison just now. He’s already been accepted at Yale.” Tabatha was smug with Jordan’s arm over her. His hand curved around her hip. “Bet you didn’t know that, huh?”
Lila’s eyes bulged as she looked back at Harrison, her demeanor much more timid.
Harrison glared at Tabatha. “You weren’t supposed to tell anyone.”
Tab shrugged, stretching almost lazily under Jordan’s arm. “Harrison, you’ve been my neighbor all my life. You never sing your praises. Let me have this moment.”
He grunted, but tugging his shirt again from his neck, he started forward. “Let’s go, Lidia. I suddenly need a beer.”
She went after him. “It’s Lila—”
Then they were swallowed by another group of students, ones we didn’t recognize. They glared at us, and Jordan sighed. “Let me guess. Fallen Crest just arrived.”
Sure enough.
Zeke Allen was smack in the middle, his beefy arms around the shoulders of two girls. His guys were lined up behind him, most with their arms around a girl as well. I was having déjà vu to a nineties high school movie.
Slowing down as he passed, Zeke smirked a frosty smirk until he got to me. Then it grew calculating. “We got people in common,” he said. “Coach Strattan and Malinda McGraw are my neighbors. Did you know that, Monroe?”
“Piss off, Allen.” Jordan let go of Tabatha, stepping forward to block me.
Cross stood next to him. Race came up beside me.
“We gonna have a problem tonight?” Cross asked, his voice quiet.
Zeke stopped in his tracks, his smirk falling as he took in Cross. “Nah, man. I mean, you guys might have a problem tonight, but not us. We’re all chill.”
