Jordan went back to staring at the bonfire, a whole troubled look coming over him. He had on a sweatshirt, the hood pulled low over his face, and he shifted back in his chair. His hands went into the pocket in the front of his sweatshirt, and he pulled the bottom out to rest lower on his lap. He lounged back, his legs stretching out.

“That was Zellman.”

“Ah.”

Jordan looked over at me, his lip curling upwards. “Bren.”

“Hmm?”

“If you want to know about our love lives, you can ask.”

That statement struck me, because it was weird, but it was weird because it shouldn’t have been weird. I grinned at him, rolling my eyes slightly. “I’m not—”

“I know.” He was talking gently. Understanding flashed in his eyes. “Bren, we get it. You’re a chick, but you’re not a chick. We get that, too. For real, and you can ask us about who we’re sleeping with and who we are dating. Shit. We bug you about yours sometimes.”

I felt myself loosening up, though he was right. Talk like this had never been a staple with me and the guys. I wasn’t sure why, but it felt kinda nice being able to ask him. “So, what’s up with you and Tabatha then?”

He groaned, half laughing. His head ducked all the way down until he lifted once more. “Damn. I walked into that one, huh?”

I raised my eyebrows. Waiting.

He sighed, shaking his head. “I have no clue. I’m still reeling about what she did. The whole thing.”

“Did she actually sleep with him?”

He shook his head again. “I have no clue. I can’t bring myself to ask, and I should. Makes me feel like a coward. But the thought—just the thought of any of it… Why didn’t she come to us for help? We could’ve done something. Anything. Her having to do what she did, that shouldn’t have even been on the plate.”

“Did Cross tell you what his brother told him?”

Jordan nodded, a hard laugh ripping from him. “That fuck’s back in the frat house. And what? We’re going to fight an entire frat house, to get them to kick someone out? That’s not what we do. We handle ourselves. That’s what we do, but Tab—she didn’t even come to us. She didn’t come to me.”

“I know.”

He raised a hand, rubbing at his forehead. “The funny thing is that at the end of this, I think Tab and I are done. She made that decision, and she’s not asked to come back to me, but Zellman?” He nodded his head upwards, toward the house. “He’s up there fucking some girl. He’s been out, making friends everywhere, and he’s the one I bet is going to get back with his girl.”

Wait. What?

“Sunday?”