CROSS
Bren was drunk.
She was the type of drunk where she wasn’t registering she was still drunk, but she was. She was also damn cute about it. She kept flicking her hand over her nose. She’d scrunch up her face afterward and make a little pffting sound. She was as loud as a tiny kitten. Seriously f*****g adorable.
I’d been watching her boss the whole time we were bowling. He was older twenties or younger thirties, but the way he was staring at Bren, a boyfriend would start wondering if he had a hard-on for her, too.
He didn’t. I put my arm around her and he hadn’t cared.
He was more interested in scoping out the rest of us.
Bren said he read her file and he made a call to Roussou. So it made sense he’d want to know about us. We were her crew. That s**t didn’t stop in high school, no
