He shot forward, his eyes flaring again. The bonfire outside and full moon cast him in enough light so I could see how fierce he felt. “You’ll owe him. And he’ll use that to hurt you.”

“We’re crew.”

“Not in this situation. In this situation, you’re you and he’s him. His intentions might’ve been good this time, but we both know there’s a power struggle. He was knocked down. He’s equal to us now. That won’t last. He’ll go back up, and we’ll let him because he cares more about power than we do. Don’t give him leverage. Keep quiet on this.” He added softly, “Trust me.”

It felt wrong not to own up to my mistake, but I trusted Cross. So I nodded.

“Okay.” I sat back in my chair, lifting my beer again.

Cross looked back out at them. “You’re my best friend.”

My mouth opened, but words didn’t come right away. My chest tightened, and it wasn’t the flutters in there this time. I was past that. It was straight-up flooding now. I was overloaded by feelings, but there was a thread of confusion too.

Cross didn’t speak like this. This wasn’t normal. This, like so much else lately, was new.

“In every situation, against every person, it’s you. Your first loyalty is to the crew, but mine is to you. It’s always been like that.” He finally turned to look at me, and my mouth dried.

God. “Why are you saying this?”

My voice was a hoarse whisper. I felt raw.

“Because I can feel it coming. Your first instinct, like just now, will be to own up to something. My first instinct is to protect you, even if you don’t want it.”

He was warning me against something.

“What are you saying, Cross?” I leaned forward, feeling my insides twisting up. “Be straight with me.”

“It’s just a feeling right now. Something’s going to happen.” He turned back to Jordan and Zellman. “I don’t know if they’ll be on our side or against us, but you have to know…” He swung those piercing eyes my way. “Everything I do is for you.”

I couldn’t talk.

I was excited. I was terrified. I was confused. I was still angry, and I was aroused. Lust flowed through my veins, and that throbbing only intensified between my legs.

I breathed out, just wanting him.

He saw it, and his own want flared to the forefront. The hazel in his eyes had morphed into a molten green, with specks of smoldering brown lining the outside. I’d never seen his eyes like that, and I couldn’t speak. If he asked me a question, if a fire lit behind us, I wouldn’t have been able to move, much less yell for help.

Neither of us held back. We let the other see. There was no hiding.

We stared at each other, both needing, not touching. Neither of us moved. Neither reached out.

The cabin was small. There were crew rules. We couldn’t be together, not here.

Not yet.

Cross closed his eyes first. When he spoke, his voice was a sensual caress in the darkness. “If they weren’t here, if you were ready, I would take you inside. I would strip you naked. I would lay you down, and I would worship every goddamn inch of your body because that’s just the beginning of what you deserve.”

If they weren’t here…

If I was ready…

“You don’t want to hear all the things I’d let you do.” My voice was a hoarse whisper.

I wasn’t ready, but I was getting ready. I could feel it happening, and unlike all the other crap in my life—I didn’t fear this change.

“One day, Bren,” he breathed. “One day.”

He stood, finishing his beer. “I have to get out of here because I’m starting not to care about where we are.” As he went outside to join the others, his fingers grazed down the top of my leg, over my knee, and trailed all the way to just before my toes.

I shivered and tipped back my head, finishing my own beer.

I was fast starting not to care either.

“You still pissed at me?”

It was four in the morning, and saying we were wasted was an understatement. We’d all gathered around the bonfire, though I didn’t know how we were sitting upright. Well, Zellman was lying on the ground. His eyes were open, and his head was propped up. He stared at the fire like it was the rainbow to his marijuana high. If he could’ve made love to the flames, I’m sure he would’ve tried.

I looked across the fire to where Jordan sat. His eyes still seemed alert. That wasn’t a surprise. He had more body mass, so he had a better tolerance—or that was my excuse for how my own sharpness had lessened.

I felt myself tipping over, but I caught myself. The log had been sturdy and sound when I first sat down. Who knew when it had decided to tip out from under me? I glanced around. No one seemed to have noticed.

“Bren.”

“What?” I looked up.

Oh yeah. Jordan.

I frowned. He’d asked a question. I snapped my fingers. “Yes!”

“You’re still pissed?”

“I remembered.”

“What?”

“Huh?”

Cross’ head moved back and forth between us as we spoke. He held a hand up now. “Stop. I’m confused.”

“I am too.” I lifted my beer. I could see two, but I knew I was only holding one.

“I asked if you were still pissed at me.” Jordan was scowling. That wasn’t good.

I looked to Cross. “He’s asking if you’re still pissed at him.” I waved my beer toward Jordan. “Answer him.” I leaned closer. “Am I holding two beers?”

“One.” Cross turned to Jordan. “You’re asking Bren?”

“What?” Jordan rubbed his forehead. “I’m not pissed at you, or Bren.” His hand fell to his mouth, and his eyes widened. “I can’t feel my lips.”

I pointed the right beer at him. “Maybe they’re pissed at you.”

He wasn’t paying attention. He began rubbing his lips together. “Am I doing something? I’m trying to move my mouth around.”

Cross grunted. “You’re drunk. You both are.”

“You too.” I pointed at him.

“No. I stopped after I left you on the porch.”

The porch.

I gulped. The porch had been hot. Like, hella hot. Like, I didn’t think I could walk through it without squeezing my legs together—that kind of hot. Cross got girls. I knew he always had, but if he talked like that to them… I felt a bit sick. Something squeezed in my chest. I think it was jealousy.

All those girls. Man. He’d been with a lot of them, and I’d been with Drake. Stupid Drake. Six-month Drake.

Drake acted all cool, but he was a fumbler in bed. Not the best there was. Well, I couldn’t compare. It’d just been Drake for me. Stupid bumbling Drake.

I think I’m on repeat here.

What was I doing?

Oh yeah. Jealousy. Stupid girls.

Jordan is pissed at Cross.

I scowled across the fire. “Why are you mad at Cross?”

“Huh?”

Zellman began giggling. He rolled so his face was almost all the way into the ground. His giggles only got louder.

“Him too.”

“No. Fuck,” Jordan said. “Wait. I mean, no shit. Yeah. No shit. And I’m not pissed at you.” He squinted at me. “I’m really fucking drunk. I love you guys.” He looked around, his eyes glazed. He was mostly directing his statements to the fire now.

Zellman’s laughter lessened, and he lifted his head, like he was doing a side-crunch. “Huh?”

Jordan clapped Zellman on the shoulder. He squeezed, then patted. Hunching forward, he gazed at Cross and me again. “They sent my sister away.”

Wait. Huh?

The bonfire was spinning.

I heard Cross respond to Jordan.

Jordan said something about his sister, who didn’t go to our school. Where did Mallory go? I knew, but I didn’t at that moment.

Why couldn’t I remember?

Jordan added, almost in a grunt, “You guys know she started at that prick school in Fallen Crest this year, but she’s not handling the assault very well. They sent her away, like away away. She’s not even staying at the house.”

Mallory.

Away.

But I knew that. She started at Fallen Crest Academy this year.

Cross said, “You didn’t mention her. I’m sorry, Jordan.”

Another grunt from our non-leader. His jaw clenched and he flicked a hand over his cheek. “I know, but whatever. I had a reason for saying that. You guys.” He focused on us again. “I know I can be an asshole sometimes.”

There was a dig there, but I held my tongue. I refrained.

He’d been talking about Mallory. That was serious for Jordan.