I could feel Cross’ eye roll behind me. “You know who.”

Yeah. I did. A whole twisty thing happened with my stomach. What was that? Guilt? What should I feel guilty about with Taz?

I stood staring at the glasses, letting them air-dry a bit longer. “How’s she been doing?”

“Worried about you.” He reached over and hooked another stool with his toe, dragging it closer to prop his leg on.

“Make yourself comfortable.”

He smirked. “Always.” He grew serious again. “She wants to see you.”

I already knew that. I’d been getting emails from her every other week. I got emails from Sunday Barnes too, and Monica even—awkward. But they weren’t alone. Alex Ryerson had reached out, apologizing for the fiftieth time. That was an exaggeration, but he needed to keep after it. It wasn’t his fault I’d stabbed Principal Neeon, but it had been the third time I’d felt accosted by him. Enough was enough. I didn’t need to stab him too. A few of his crew had gotten in touch with me, not apologizing for him, but just saying hello. It was their way of asking how I was without it being awkward. It was the crew way.

I’d ignored everyone. I ignored Alex and his crew because I was still angry, and because Channing had said to leave them alone. They were going to be dealt with. I ignored everyone else because… I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t understand why Monica and Sunday were contacting me in the first place. They hated me. But Taz. Yeah, Taz.

I needed to go see her, but I couldn’t make myself. Which was unlike me.

“Are you actually thinking about hanging out with Taz?” Cross leaned forward.

“What?” I scowled, starting to stack the glasses now. “That’s stupid. No.”

“Why’s that stupid?”

I swung around to him. “Since when have you ever wanted me and your sister to be friends?”

Cross’ smile faded, and he brought his leg down from the stool.

I held my breath, feeling the air in the room shift. It’d gone from comfortable to something more, something hot, something uncomfortable, something… I felt my stomach doing all sorts of flips once again.

“I’ve never not wanted you and Taz to be close.”

I looked at him again, raising my eyebrows high—and ignoring all the weird shit inside me. “Cross, come on.”

“Come on what?”

“Every time I’m at your house, you start glaring when your sister comes around. You’ve been doing it since we became friends.” I shook my head. “You didn’t like it when I hung out with her. You can’t act differently now.”

He leaned back so his head rested against the wall again. “Yeah. Maybe I did that.”

There was no maybe. It was a definite yes. He did it.

“I was being selfish.” His eyes held mine. “I just wanted you for myself, okay? I was an ass.”

Whaaat?

My throat felt suddenly tight, and so did my chest. Was this the official talk?My stomach was doing backflips like a professional tumbler now.

A tingle went down my spine.

“Cross?” I didn’t know what I was asking. Maybe for clarification? What the hell was going on? It’d been four months of friendliness, and now suddenly we were talking real talk?

He continued to hold my gaze. A stark need entered his eyes, and he sighed. “Fuck,” he whispered. “I’m sorry, Bren.”

I licked my lips. My mouth was so dry. “For what?”

“I’ve tried to be the best friend during this whole thing. I have.”

Yeah. He’d done a remarkable job. Not what I wanted.

His voice was quiet, yet I didn’t need to strain to hear him. I hung on his every word. “We close in together. That’s what we do when one of us goes through something. You—you need a solid friend, but I can’t do that anymore.”

“You can’t be my friend anymore?” I set down the glasses, putting the stack of them on the counter, and reached back to hold on instead. I felt my knees growing weak.

He shook his head, tentatively at first, as if he were asking my permission. Then, like he saw something he’d needed to see in my gaze, he began to stand up.

I swallowed, my hand gripping the counter.

He was coming over.

Oh, God…

He stopped right in front of me. Two inches separated us. I couldn’t look away from him, but the longer I held his gaze, the less I felt able to stand. He was inside of me, making me feel all sorts of emotions I’d never felt before. He knew me, every inch, every cell, every thought.

I parted my lips, and his eyes darted to them, staying.

He brushed his hand over my cheek, tucking some of my hair behind my ear, leaving a tingle in its trail.

I let out a ragged breath.

Goddamn. That touch. It ricocheted through me, sparking need between my legs.

I started to reach for him, needing to touch him.

He saw my hand and moved in, letting it land on his chest. I could feel his heart racing. He was as affected as I was. And like that, it clicked. Surrender flooded me. Our bodies let out a release at the same time, like we were finally accepting what was between us.

“Bren,” he whispered. His lips brushed over my cheek, getting closer and closer to my mouth, but he paused. He didn’t touch his mouth to mine. He tucked my hair behind my ear again, resting there.

He was breathing heavy, just like me.

I splayed my fingers out, savoring the feel of his strength. He was so tight, so firm. I knew what he looked like under his shirt. We’d gone swimming so many times together. We’d hugged each other. We’d sat next to each other. We’d driven together, ridden together. We’d done everything together. We’d even slept together, but this—this was different.

This was a different touch, a different moment.

There was no going back now.

I could lose him.

That sent alarm bells through me, but it didn’t matter. I felt drugged. I just needed him, and I lifted my eyes, meeting his again.

He’d been waiting.

I parted my lips.

I reached up, and he dipped down.

His lips touched mine, and everything in the world softened.

It was different—not the kiss, but the feeling. This was finally. This was something I hadn’t known I’d been waiting for. I leaned into him, and he opened his mouth, applying more pressure.

Sensations exploded in me.

“Cross,” I murmured, looking up with what I knew were dazed eyes. “What are we doing?”

He moved even closer, his eyes smoldering and serious. I fit against him like a glove, and his hand cupped the back of my neck.

“What we should’ve been doing for a long time,” he said.

He came back down, and I stopped thinking.

My hands formed fists in his shirt.

This wasn’t like Drake. Cross was in a league of his own—

“Bren! Cross!”

Jordan’s voice came through the back screen door, and we had a second’s notice before it opened. Cross ripped away from me and threw himself across the room as they came inside.

I could only stand there, like an idiot.

We’d just—

I met Cross’ gaze as Jordan hollered, “Yo! Where’s the love? No greetings?” He went around me, casting a curious look before pounding fists with Cross. “You okay, B?” He came back, holding his fist up to me.

My insides were in an uproar. “Yeah. I’m good.” I met my fist to his.

Zellman came in and threw his arm around my shoulders. “Heya, P.F.S.” He leaned into me, his skinny hip digging into mine. “Did Cross already fill you in?”

“What?”

Zellman frowned at me. “You’re usually quicker on the uptake. You sure you’re okay?” His eyes widened, and he jumped away from me. “Wait. Is your side okay? I thought you were all healed by now.”

Get ahold of yourself.

I tried to shove away the feel of Cross’ lips on mine, the press of his body against mine, how he’d felt with his hands in my hair. I tried. I was failing.

“It’s fine. I’m fine. Just…” I had no clue what I was saying. “What’s up?” I forced a bright sound to my voice. “I didn’t eat today. What’s going on?”

There was a sack of apples on the counter, and Jordan grabbed two, throwing one to me. He hopped up on the counter, gesturing with his apple toward Cross. “We were thinking of doing something nice for you.”