“Fuck, it’s cold out there!” he comments, grumbling as he slides back into the driver’s side and blasts the heater. “One thing I miss about Louisiana for sure is warm winters.”
“Was it hard leaving there to come all the way up here?” I haven’t brought up their old home. I wasn’t sure if it’d be a sore subject since they don’t mention it much, if ever. They tend to keep to themselves about all things that involve personal stuff—even to me—and I’m around them more than anyone else from school.
His irises sparkle as he looks me over, taking in every detail. He zeros in on my chest and the fact that I’ve zipped myself back into my fuzzy, warm pajamas. “You know better than anyone mon cher, that my father enjoys mapping out futures.”
“Yours included?”
Cole swallows and then nods. He remains tight-lipped about the subject, and I take the hint that he doesn’t want to delve any deeper into it. I respect his feelings and leave it at that. I know better than anyone of how it feels to not want to share details of your home life or your parents.
Slurping, I take in a big gulp of the thick, cool mixture of my chocolate peanut butter explosion milk shake and let it coat my throat. I use the sugar for a little courage and broach, “Cole...about what just happened,” I begin, and his brows rise in anticipation.
“What about it, beba?”
“Well, tomorrow is the party, and I’m not sure if I should be doing this sort of thing with Tristan and me being publicly engaged now.”
“Tell me something...do you like us?”
“Of course,” I admit immediately. “I wasn’t sure at first. Especially because you were brash with your outspokenness and Brent was irritable or wrapped up in a similar mood. That’s changed though; you’ve each opened up to me more and showed me there’s more to you guys.”
Cole repeats the question, but rewords it a bit and with emphasis. “Do you like-like us? And all of us, or just a few?”
I grab my shake, gulping down a few mouthfuls of frozen, creamy sugar. Staring intently at my foam cup, I contemplate on what to say. Should I tell him the truth along with finally admitting it aloud to myself? I’ve fought my feelings from the second they became complicated, thinking it was wrong to want them the way I do. I don’t know how much longer I can fight it, though, and after a moment, I whisper, “Yes.”
“Relax mon cher, we all like you too. We’ve told you before, Kresley; you belong to all of us.”
“B-but how does that work if I’m marrying Tristan?” I ask, feeling even more confused now that it’s out in the open with Cole. “I don’t want to hurt him or make him upset before we’re even married. I mean...you’re his brothers. It has to be weird for him and each of you as well.”
“Has anyone told you it was strange or did Tristan tell you he was disappointed about it?”
I shake my head. None of them have even hinted that it’s abnormal or that they’re troubled about our shared affections. The only times I’ve heard them say anything about it is back when Brent walked into Axel’s room and reminded him that I’m set to marry Tristan. Me overhearing it was awkward enough, and thankfully the subject was never brought up around me again.
“Look, we told you before that you’re ours. I’m not sure if you’ve noticed or not, but we like to share and often. Not everything, but some things we’d rather have even a little piece of, versus none at all. You get what I’m saying? It’s difficult to explain?”
“I think so...”
“Unless one of us straight out tells you we don’t like you or that we’re jealous, please trust us. Oddly enough, we know what we’re doing when it comes to you and how we want it to be. Each of us want you, beba, so this way we all get to have you.”
With a nervous breath, I ask, “And tomorrow?”
“Nothing changes. You wear Tristan’s ring, and for appearance purposes, you stick close to him. In private, you will still belong to all of us.”
I have to know. Is this only until we say our vows? Is there a time limit? “For how long, Cole? Does this have an expiration date?”
“Why are you worrying so much? Like I mentioned before, you need to have faith in us. We will always take care of you.”
Swallowing, I sigh and look away. I try to trust them, and with time, it’s becoming easier. Now they’re asking me to confide in them with my heart, and that’s a different story entirely. I’m afraid I’ll fall completely for all four of them, and then three of them will turn their backs on me. I’ve needed them on my side for this marriage, against my father and their own. I’ve also needed them to be a buffer with Tristan. Now, I need them, so my heart won’t break.
That realization is scarier than any marriage or rich man planning my future.
“T
oday’s the big day, Kresley. Aren’t you positively thrilled for the opulent party?” Mom asks as the first set of stylists begins on our hair.
Two nail techs gather their supplies along with portable pedicure tubs to begin on our Pedi’s. Winter months or not, mother swears that women are supposed to always have soft feet and pretty toes no matter the season. She says feet are ugly enough to not stay on top of taking care of their appearance. Personally, they don’t bother me. She’d be appalled if she discovered I’d previously had an in-depth conversation on feet and toes with Axel. We were swimming and got on the subject, and he knows pretty much everything there is about everything, so we get distracted easily on random topics.
Rubbing my eyes sleepily, I mumble, “Not thrilled enough to be woken up at eight a.m. I’m pretty sure all of this could’ve waited an extra two or three hours.”
I rarely voice any objections. I learned long ago they practically mean nothing to my parents. I’m a grouchy morning person, though, and can’t hold back when she asks.
“Nonsense!” She waves me off as if my mind’s too small to understand anything when it comes to being a woman. “Of course it had to be first thing. It’s been far too long since you had your roots updated, and while I’m not fond of the lavender shade, it’s a trend right now, and you need to keep up appearances. You really should pay more attention, Kresley.”
The one blessing of having snobby parents is I get to have light lavender hair to be on the “cusp of trends.” They may think I’m keeping up appearances for their sake, but in reality, it was one minor way I could be different from all the other rich kids. I don’t want to blend in with the step ford academy students. I’m much more than them inside. Not in a stuck-up way, but in a “I don’t belong with you type of people” sort of way. I want so much more in my life than what they have in store.
“You’re bleaching my roots?” I complain, knowing the time and itchiness I have in store with the chore.
My stylist chuckles before saying, “You’ll be in like a bazillion photos honey, you have to be fly AF, and you know my work needs to be looking top-notch on that fabulous head of yours.” He’s super gay, like wear a rainbow shirt every day and eyeliner kind. I love him; he always has a good attitude and makes me feel pretty, even when he’s yanking on my hair.
“Ouch!” I cry as the tiny lady kneeling at my feet stabs into my big toe with her sharp tool.
She shoots me a look before grumbling, “You have ingrown nail. How you girl is beyond me.”
I send her a sheepish smile before shrugging. “I run a lot.”
“No kidding. Your feet like hippo.”
Mom glares at me as if I can help having runner’s feet. It’s the one joy I get, and this cute oriental lady is throwing me under the bus. The next nail she yanks out I better keep my mouth closed, or Mom’ll be tossing my runners into the trash. I’d have to resort to bribing Sam to order me a new pair if that happened.
“I’m starving. Please tell me we aren’t fasting all day.” I hate it when she makes us not eat before the party. I show up light-headed and feeling rabid at the site of food. Not to mention my stomach makes all these crazy gurgling noises, and
if there’s no music playing, it’s incredibly embarrassing.
“Of course, we aren’t eating. You had a milk shake yesterday, so you’ll be bloated enough in your gown.”
Sighing, I blow off her response. She’ll be even more nitpicky than usual today. I’m in for a full spread of yanking, dyeing, washing, plucking, painting, and prepping. I am a bit excited about tonight, though. I’m not looking forward to the announcement portion or the random jerks that are invited. Nor my mother’s constant watch, expecting me to be perfect, but I should be able to escape her at some point, hopefully. On the upside, I get to see my quads dressed to the nines and that’s had me conjuring up delicious images of them since it was announced that it’s a formal affair.
My best friend blows into Mom’s dressing room like a tornado full of sunshine and dark hair. The room’s attached to her massive closet and en suite. “Morning!” she beams cheerily, and I want to toss a brush or something at her. She’s carrying beverages, though, so hopefully, it’s something good. “I know there won’t be any eating involved today so I brought smoothies.” She must’ve got my text when I woke up, thank fuck! My best friend is seriously the best.
“Oh, thank God!” I exclaim, making a hasty grab for the entire tray.
She giggles as Mom begins to chastise me and tell me I can’t have any of it.
Sam argues. “Kresley can drink it, I promise. It’s actually a cleansing smoothie that helps break down fat throughout the day. Her stomach will be nice and flat in time for the party.”
Mom’s eyes grow wide. “That sounds marvelous! Thank you for keeping her on track. Samantha!”
Sam smiles wickedly. “Of course!” She pushes the straw in and hands a large cup to me.
I take a long pull, and the flavors explode on my tongue. Sam’s full of shit. This is a sunrise smoothie. There’s no fat burning mumbo jumbo in it: just orange juice, strawberry, banana, fat free milk, vanilla yogurt, and ice. It’s delicious to my starving tummy, and my mother has no idea. It’s like breakfast in a glass, and it’ll get me through a chunk of the day. Sam’s a lifesaver; besides, I run a lot and need the healthy calories.
Mom thinks I’m reckless, but I’ve learned so much at camp each summer about what to and what not to put in my body. I know her random fasting isn’t good for us. It just puts our body into survival mode, and it holds fat. I tried to tell her, but she wasn’t having it. Rich people hate being wrong, so they pretend to know everything.
“How are you today?” Sam probes as she pulls up a chair beside me. My mom titters to her stylist in the background about her hair being the perfect shade.
“It’s early,” I gripe and she smirks with amusement.
“I don’t think you’ll ever change,” she snickers and I agree. “I’m excited for tonight.”
“Oh yeah? Did you ever find a date to bring?”
She releases a breath, biting her lip before admitting, “I did. BUT I didn’t want to tell you before the party.”
My forehead scrunches, and Mom butts in. “Stop that, or you’ll get wrinkles!”
Instantly, my expression flattens, so my skin smooths back out, as I quietly ask, “What? Why not?” Taking a long pull of my smoothie, I try to hold still for my stylist and also lean in to listen.
She shrugs. “I just...I didn’t want you to be uncomfortable or something. I figured if you didn’t know until the party then you wouldn’t worry about it. Plus, you’ll be extremely busy tonight, so I wanted to have someone there.”
“Okay? I mean, of course, you should have a date, but why would I care who it is? I wanted you to bring someone, remember?”
She sits back, her freshly scrubbed face not needing an ounce of makeup no matter how early it is to look gorgeous. “Because it’s Brandon.”
“Wow.” I’m surprised. I mean, sure he and I have spoken and cleared the air, but I wasn’t expecting him to be there tonight. “I didn’t think he’d want to come, or I would’ve made sure he had an invitation. I should’ve sent one regardless.”
“And he knows that; we already talked about it. He may not be happy about you being engaged,” she coughs at the glower my mother shoots in our direction. “So, uh, soon, but he’s still our friend. He wants to be there for you.”
“I don’t know what to say. I mean, if the roles were reversed, I’d want to be there to support him too. So, I get it. I’m just shocked he’s come around this soon.”
She nods. “We’ve actually been talking a lot more.”
“Oh, really?”
She blushes, and my gaze takes her in again. She’s all flustered from bringing him up. What’s really going on between my friends? Just how much more could they be talking to make her act like this?
“Yeah, well, it’s just that you’re busier now.” Her hand shoots up, her eyes growing wide. “Not in a bad way!” Sam amends before continuing, “I didn’t mean it like that. I meant that you have the guys and they take up a lot of time.”
I flick my eyes to my mom, and Sam quickly adds, “You have Tristan, which is awesome. He adores you, and I’m so happy for you. Anyhow, I’ve had some free time, and Brandon has too, so we’ve um, gotten closer.”
My mouth tilts into a knowing grin, and I tease, “Uh huh, you like him.”
Her lips pucker, her cheeks turning pink as if she’s eating something sour and I can’t help but laugh. My outspoken, charismatic best friend doesn’t know what to do or say and it’s hilarious. Maybe Brandon’s exactly what she needs.
“How did I not see this before? He’s practically the male version of you. No wonder I’ve always seen him as a brother!” My smile widens. “Oh my gawd, you two are perfect for each other!”
Her lips twist into a soft smile, and she glances away. Sam has it so bad. I hope he feels the same way about her. This is pretty perfect; I get my two best friends, and if they like each other, then the guys won’t overreact with Brandon being near me anymore. They’re grown pretty territorial over me being around other boys, especially Brandon. “I’m glad you’re bringing him. The only thing I beg of you guys is not to break each other’s hearts.”
She rolls her eyes. “Please, that boy has nothing to worry about when it comes to me.”
“Yeah?” I giggle. “This is so great.”
“All right, enough about me already. This day is about you and that handsome hunk who gave you that gigantic rock on your finger.”
My stylist leans in. “And that rock is total bling, honey! You tell that de Lacharriere the next diamond needs to be a canary or teal stone. It’s all the rave right now.”
Mom speaks up. “Stefan is right, Kresley, perhaps Tristan will gift you another for the wedding.”
My smile drops. “One ring is plenty, thanks. I don’t want to sink when I go swimming in the summer.”
Mom’s gasp sounds scandalized. “Don’t you dare wear those swimming!”
“I won’t,” I mutter while Sam quietly snickers at Mom’s chastising.
My best friend flicks a look at me before saying, “I think the customary wedding gift is earrings, actually. I’ve been reading up on it all to begin building Tristan and Kresley’s wedding gift registry.”
Mom’s hands flutter. “Oh, wonderful idea, Samantha! Thank you for being such a good friend.” Of course, she gives props, where there’s gifts and money involved.
Stefan lifts my hair from my shoulders, “All right you two hold that talking for a few. Let’s get this bleach rinsed out and toned.” Handing my now empty drink to Sam, I follow him into the bathroom and the blissful quiet. I need to get myself mentally ready for tonight, and not even a spa and massage package could prepare my mind and body for the crazy evening ahead of me.
“R
eady for tonight?” Cole asks as we wait around for Father to get back from his latest business trip. He rarely cuts them short, but the magnitude of tonight’s party will warrant him wanting to be here. Hell, anybody who’s anyone important w
ants to be here.
Sighing, I nod. I don’t want to discuss my feelings, especially with my brother. He’s been pretty nonexistent when it comes to Kresley, besides crushing on her and keeping her distracted. I’m not complaining, it’s what we agreed on from the start, but it doesn’t mean I can’t be slightly jealous that she seems to be closer to him than me. It’s good old-fashioned sibling rivalry, and in this case, I’m not used to losing. Women love me. They love him, too, but they usually flock to me quicker than to him.
Cole doesn’t hesitate to call me out. “Bullshit! I heard you in the gym at five a.m.”
My eyes fly to his. “You were up?”
He shrugs. “Couldn’t sleep. I’m used to you being in there during football season, but not that early in your off time.”
Raking my hand over my face, I release a breath and agree. He’s right. Brent and I work out together most times, but it’s Christmas vacation. When we’re on break, we hit the gym later than our usual four a.m. before school training sessions. “Yeah, I didn’t sleep much either.”
“Is it beba?”
“Yep,” I admit, taking a drink of the piping hot black coffee. Our head housekeeper makes the best coffee I’ve ever tasted. Not sure how she does it, but the stuff works miracles on hangovers. “I’m starting to like her,” I admit and he snorts.
“You think? Pretty sure we all like her.”
“I know. I wasn’t expecting it to be this confusing though. Feelings in the past have always been fleeting, but with her, it’s the opposite. That’s unsettling, to be honest.”
“What exactly? That you desire to actually be with her, versus just putting on another show to make dad proud?”
“Exactly.”
“It’s not only you, Tris. You’re not alone. We all want her more than usual, even Brent. I see it in the podnas eyes when he looks at her. This started as one thing, but it’s changing, ya’ know?”
When he’s laid-back or pissed, his accent is more pronounced. It makes me miss home. “So, what am I supposed to do, go through with everything tonight and not skip a beat or question it?”
Harvard Academy Elite Page 14