She wasn’t the first to be worried. It’d been a theme for me. I was thin—had been all my life. I just was. I didn’t work at it. I didn’t starve myself. I might forget to eat sometimes, but it wasn’t intentional. Food was just not on my mind.

Being detached from myself meant from my stomach too. I had enough insight to know that much.

I shrugged, taking a big bite. “Mom used to worry too, when I was little.” I swallowed. “Don’t take it on. Channing knows this is just how I am. I’m not sick or anything.”

“Still, you could do with a few more meals.” She pulled her knee up to her chest, her foot resting on the chair. “I have a friend kind of like you, except she runs all the time. She told me once that she had an eating disorder, but it went away later.”

I took a second bite and swallowed. “That the Olympic runner?”

Surprise pulled her eyebrows up. “Yeah. Sam. You know about her?”

I nodded, reaching for some fries. “I listen.” I smiled. “Channing’s proud of his Fallen Crest friends. They’re big deals.”

Unlike us. They were big deals. We weren’t. The unspoken meaning hung between us.

Another town, another life and owning and running a bar would be an accomplishment, but I could see the thoughts in Heather’s mind. There was a sadness in her eyes. Against an Olympic runner, whose husband was an NFL player, and the other dude who was in law school, I could tell Heather had a complex.

I held my burger in front of me. “I’m not stupid, but I know my path. Graduating is my big goal, and after that…” I shrugged, staring at the meat but feeling how quiet she’d gotten. “If I ran a successful business like you do with Manny’s or Chan does with Tits, I’d be proud.” A goddamn lump was in my throat. “I’d be damned proud.” I looked up now, meeting her gaze. “I wouldn’t let anyone take that from me.”

Her lips parted, and she leaned forward. Her hand flattened on the table. “Bren, I wasn’t thinking about—“

I stood, but I slid another fry from my container.

I knew she wasn’t. Heather was good people.

I was just the one in the way.

Stuffing the fry into my mouth, I put the rest of them back in the bag. With my water in hand, I motioned with my head to the door. “Lunch is almost done. I’m going back.”

Heather’s hand fell to her lap. She looked down at it, not responding before gesturing toward the back door. “I’m parked out back. I should get going too.”

She didn’t move, but I did.

In just a moment I was back in my Jeep, pulling away from the curb.

I still wasn’t going back to school, though I wasn’t avoiding the new Ryerson, or well, everyone. I just didn’t want to deal with people at the moment.

Surprise: I’m not a fan of people. They were like aliens to me. So I headed toward where I always went when I wanted to hole up.

I went to Cross’ house.

He wouldn’t be there, but neither would anyone else. And bonus, I knew where they kept the secret key.

I settled into Cross’ room, though not in his bed or at his desk. I was in his closet.

I know it sounds creepy, but it’s not. It’s just our thing—or maybe it’s more my thing. If I need to crash somewhere that’s not my own bed, I like his closet. He usually crashes on my floor if he returns the favor. So me being in his closet wasn’t weird—to us.

What was weird was hearing footsteps in the hall a few hours later and two voices entering his room.

“I don’t think we should be in here.”

I lifted my head, letting it rest against the closet wall. I couldn’t place that voice.

“Sshhh! I want to just check it out.”

I recognized that one: Sunday Barnes.

“Oh!” Sunday groaned. “Think we could get into his accounts?”

“Sunday, for real. We should go.” The second voice again.

I still couldn’t place her, but she was hesitant, her second statement more fearful than the first.

“Get over it, Mon. It’s not our fault Taz let us roam free around here.”

Monica? Cross’ ex?

I remembered they were both on the cheerleading squad.

“This makes me nervous. Taz thinks we’re going to the bathroom. You know Cross would be pissed if he knew we were in here.”

“You said you wanted proof. That’s what we’re doing, looking for proof.”

“Yeah, but—”

“But what?” Sunday snapped as Cross’ desk chair squealed. “You think he’s in love with Monroe.”

Me? Fuck. I closed my eyes, an old wariness settling in my chest.

“He didn’t say that—”

“But you see how close they are,” Sunday countered. “He’s in love with her. We all know it. We just have to prove it.”

The floor creaked as someone crossed the room. The bed springs protested slightly.

“Look,” Monica’s voice was quieter. “I don’t feel right about this anymore. She’s crew. I mean, you have to be badass to just be in one, let alone theirs. I don’t know. I don’t want to mess with Bren.”

“Why not?” I could almost hear the eye roll. Cross’ computer booted up. “She messes with you all the time. If they’re not together, she should let him date who he wants.”

“She’s never done anything.”

“In front of you. Trust me. I know girls like that. They’re all about pulling the strings behind your back.”

Monica let out a small laugh. “You’re projecting. That’s what you do.”

“Yeah. Maybe.” Sunday agreed.

I heard fingers tapping on the keyboard, followed by “Fuck! It’s password-protected even to get on the computer. I tried Bren’s name. What else would he use as a password?”

The bed creaked again. “We’re not going to find anything. Let’s go.”

“No way. We’re here. Let’s try a few more, okay?” More typing. “No. Wolves or Wolf Crew doesn’t work. Come on. You’ve been with him forever. Think of some ideas—”

“What the fuck are you guys doing?” A third voice came from the doorway.

I knew that one, and I sat up straight, waiting for what Taz was going to say.

“Shit!”

The bedroom door banged into the closet behind my head.

She didn’t disappoint.

“What the fuck?!” Taz’s voice grew louder, and I could see the shadow from her shoes under the closet door. “Were you trying to hack into my brother’s computer?”

“No, no.”

Sunday snorted. “Yes.”

Taz sucked in her breath.

I grinned faintly. I could hear how pissed she was. If she really got going, she was a terror. I’d witnessed a few verbal smackdowns between her and Cross.

“Look, it was my idea.” Monica stepped closer. “He broke up with me again last night, and I know he spent it with her. I’m just so tired of being his second choice.”

“So you needed to invade his privacy for payback?”

“What? No! No.”

I angled my head closer to the door so I could see out through the small crack. Monica’s head was blocked by the door’s screw, but I could see where her hands were pressed to her chest, like she was praying.

“I just wanted proof that he loves her,” she said. “I’m so sick of him denying it. I can see it. It’s how they move together. Like they’re the same person. It sucks. Do you have any idea?”

“Give me a break,” Taz grumbled. “They’re crew, and they’re best friends. That’s what they do.”

“It’s more with them. You know it.”

Sunday stepped forward now. I could make out her hands on her hips. “I heard you this morning. You think it too. You said it yourself. They have their own language.”

“And what? If you’d found something, what would you do with it?” Taz was incredulous. “Blackmail them? You think my brother would stand for that, or hell, Bren? Seriously? Do you really want to piss her off? You’re an idiot.”

Taz said, “There are no couples in crew.”

Sunday said, “In theirs, maybe. But that could change and it’s not the same for others.”

“There’s only one other female in the system.”

Monica added, “Yeah! And she’s dating one of her own group’s members.”

“I have a feeling the rule would change if something did happen between Bren and Cross, but are you even listening to yourself? It’s Bren.”

Sunday crossed her arms over her chest. “Whatever, Taz. Bren Monroe doesn’t scare me.”