“Hey.” Cross approached me in the cabin and handed me a beer. “Here.”
I took it, leaning forward from my seat in the screened-in porch. My legs were up on a footrest. “Thanks.”
He sat in the chair beside me, and we looked out to the bonfire where Jordan and Zellman were sitting, watching something on Jordan’s phone.
“They’re watching cat videos,” Cross said, and I heard the laughter in his voice. “We’re the fiercest in Roussou, and half our crew are giggling like schoolgirls over cat videos.”
“The booze helps.” I reached mine out without looking, and we clinked our bottles together.
“Jordan’s downed ten beers on his own.”
The cabin Jordan got for us was owned by one of his uncle’s friends. It was small and quaint: two bedrooms, a small kitchen, and a living room with a patio that ope
