“It's not always that easy,” he whispers back, and I realize then that their money doesn't give them the freedom they think it does. Their blue blood doesn't always mean the grass is greener. Charlie would never force me to marry someone I didn't love. And he sure as hell would never predicate his love on an ultimatum.
Then again, I know not all families work the same. Not all families are glued together by love and trust. Some are built on money and expectations.
“No, it's not easy. I bet it'd make your life a hell of a lot harder.” I exhale and look between the two of them. “You just … both seem so sad sometimes.” I shrug my shoulders, and then move over to the bar to grab another can of soda from a bucket of ice. I forgot mine upstairs just now, and I don't trust the other partygoers not to drug my drink. After all, Andrew did it once and succeeded. “Anyway, I just needed a minute.”
“Because of what happened to John and Greg?” Lizzie asks, and Andrew shakes his head.
“No, because of all those fine guys that are crushing on her.” He grins at me as I give him a look. “What? Come on, there's not a straight or bi girl at this school … or a gay boy … who doesn't envy you right now. Five bully boys brought to their knees by a beautiful working glass girl who doesn't take their shit; it's like a fairy-tale.”
“Five boys …” Lizzie starts, and then I can see her visibly gathering herself together as she forces a smile. “It's true. They all have crushes on you, whether they've said anything to you or not. It isn't just Creed and Zack.”
“Windsor?” I ask with a forced laugh. “Pretty sure he's joking.” But then I think about the feel of his arm around my waist, and I get lightheaded. “No way.”
“Yes way,” Andrew says, glancing over at Lizzie. She nods and gives me a sympathetic smile. “And Tristan, he's practically salivating.”
My eyes meet Lizzie's, but she manages to keep her smile.
“Like I told you before, anything I had with him was in the past … with any of them, really.”
“But you still love Tristan?” My heart stutters like crazy as I wait for her answer. I can't believe I actually asked that question aloud. For months now, I've told myself it was better not to know, to just let things play out as they might, but … I need to know.
Lizzie sniffles and then nods once, sharply.
“Don't worry though,” she blurts suddenly. “I'm with Marcel now. My dad hates Tristan's dad, and vice versa. We're an impossibility.”
“But you love him anyway?” Andrew asks, tucking the fingers of his right hand into the pocket of his red academy jacket. Like me, he hasn't bothered to change.
“Yes.” Lizzie is staring right at me, but I don't know how to respond or what to say.
Andrew whistles and shakes his head, pausing as Gary Jacobs passes by, his eyes following the other boy until he disappears into the hallway. There's a longing there that's echoed in Lizzie's gaze. Andrew turns back to me, like he's waiting for me to say something.
“Okay,” I say, and Andrew lifts his brows up.
“Okay?” he echoes, glancing over at Lizzie and then turning back to me. “What does that even mean? Do you like Tristan, too?”
“Me?” I choke out, because … I haven't really let myself think about that too hard.
No lies, damn it. Not even to yourself! I repeat, clenching my hands so tight, I make little crescent marks in my palms with my nails.
When Tristan touches me, my heart races. When he looks at me, I feel lightheaded. When he's not being a jerk to me—which is rare—I want to swoon. Do I like him? The king of the school? The ultimate asshole among assholes?
“Shit,” I curse, feeling my face get hot, and Andrew grins.
“I knew it,” he whispers as I cover my face with my hands.
“I like him,” I murmur, feeling this sensation ripple through me as it hits home. “I do.”
Pulling my hands away, I look back up to find Lizzie and Andrew watching me.
“It's fine, really,” Lizzie says with a sad smile. “I won't sabotage you. Like I said, I'm with Marcel …”
“Tristan likes you back,” I blurt, even though I'm kicking myself all the while. No lies. No fucking lies. That is going to be a hard and shitty rule to follow. “I can tell. He's never gotten over you.” Lizzie glances away and shrugs her shoulders loosely.
“Maybe, but … there's no future for us. If you like him, you should go for him.”
“The question is: who do you like best?” Andrew asks me, and I stare at him with this helpless hole opening inside my chest. Who do I like best? I have to choose?
“I have no idea,” I whisper, and then we all pause as Zack comes up to stand with us. He looks between the three of us, Lizzie and me with flushed faces, and then he raises his dark brows.
“Everything okay in here?” he asks, his voice a deep, smooth rumble that vibrates my bones. I love it, and I like him.
“Everything's fine,” I say as I exhale and try to push those feelings aside for now. Harper and Becky have just entered the room and are staring at me. I have more pressing matters to deal with, but I can't help but wonder who would envy me over this.
Having five guys—maybe five, because Windsor is … well, Windsor—interested in me is not a blessing, it's a curse.
How the fuck am I supposed to choose?
The next few weeks are packed with assignments, club meetings—why did I join so many clubs?!—orchestra rehearsals, cheerleading, and almost daily struggles between us and the ex-Bluebloods.
The crowd on the yacht was clearly split, but intimidated as hell by the boys.
For now, the Plebs seems content to watch. The only bullying I receive anymore is from the girls and their cronies. Everyone else is too scared to mess with me. Still, it's hard to say what's going to happen if push comes to shove. Will the general population side with us … or them.
“Miranda!” I call out, racing up to her in the hall. It's already October first, and I feel like we need to do some Halloween costume planning. It's going to be hard to beat last year's macaron outfits.
It's not like we haven't been talking, but there's clearly an elephant in the room. That kiss …
She's walking with Creed—we're still sticking to the pairs rule—and I've got Andrew trailing along behind me.
“Hey,” she says with a smile, and I swear, as soon as I step between the twins, I can feel the tension.
“Do you have time for dinner in The Mess?” I ask, and she nods. I give Creed a look, and he returns it with heavy-lidded bedroom eyes. “Do you mind walking Andrew back to the Towers? We'll meet you there later, and you can walk me home.” I grin, and he nods once, briefly, before pulling away.
The two of us head into the dining hall and then pause, looking between the empty Idols' table, and our old spot.
Miranda and I exchange a look.
“We should probably make a stand and claim the table,” she says, and I grin.
“I'd rather sit in our spot, but you're right.” Miranda smiles back at me, and we climb the steps to the dais, sitting down and checking the menus briefly before ordering.
I'm trying to cut down the amount of meat I eat, so I pick one of the vegetarian recipes: cheesy Spanish stuffed rice poblano peppers. Yum.
Miranda unfolds her napkin in her lap, folds it again, unfolds it.
She's fidgeting.
“Can we talk about the kiss?” I ask, and her gaze snaps up and over to me, mouth gaping.
“No!” she whispers, and I laugh. “Why do you want to talk about that?”
“Is that why you broke up with Jessie?” I ask, and she cringes slightly, tucking white-blond hair behind one ear.
“Maybe.”
More silence. Our waiter comes to put our drinks down: iced tea for me and lemonade for Miranda.
I smooth my palms down the plaid pleats of my academy skirt.
“Things don't have to be weird, you know. Zack and Creed have asked me out, and … we're doing okay.” That
's not exactly a lie. Things are awkward, but we're managing. I haven't stopped hanging out with them. Actually, I'm hanging out with the guys more than I ever have before, even more than first year when they were trying to woo me with the bet.
“I shouldn't have kissed you like that. I shouldn't have told you.” She glances my direction with her ice-blue eyes, and I smile.
“It's always worth it to say something,” I tell her, and I really mean that. “I'm … not about making any decisions right now. I just want to deal with this Harper and Infinity Club stuff, and keep my grades up.”
“For what those boys did to you, they should let you date them all until you make up your mind,” Miranda says with a sigh, grabbing her lemonade and popping the straw in her mouth. They're biodegradable straws now, and dissolve in hot water. Miranda did a whole project on the environmental impact of straws last year for our bio class, and part of that was petitioning the schoolboard to make a change, which, fortunately, they did. “If you aren't going to pick me,” she pauses and smiles softly, “then at the very least, know that I am one hundred percent Team Creed.”
“I …” My cheeks flush with pink. “We're not talking marriage or anything, just high school crushes.”
“Yeah, so? Some love lasts forever.” Miranda turns to look at me. “My parents met in high school. My mom used to report my dad for smoking pot behind the school during class, and he hated her guts. They've been together ever since. I'm pretty sure Creed thinks your his soul mate or something.”
I snort, but Miranda turns to look at me with one brow raised.
“He mentions the hot tub at least once a week—”
I cut her off by reaching over and putting my hand across her mouth.
“Do not even go there,” I whisper, taking my hand back. Miranda watches me carefully for a moment, glancing at the door to see if anyone else might be coming in. There's a group of first year girls in the far corner, but they're all huddled together, and too new to cause any trouble.
She looks back at me.
“Um, I'm not sure if I should be telling you this …”
“Miranda, any sentence that begins with I'm not sure if I should be telling you this gives pretty good indication that you really shouldn't be telling me anything.”
“No, let me say this,” she continues, sighing, and reaching up to sweep some blond bangs from her forehead. “Creed is going to fucking kill me …”
“Miranda!” I blurt, but she glances up sharply, and I can see that I'm going to hear this, whether I like it or not.
“Creed is … well, he's sort of a …” Her voice trails off, and she curses a bit under her breath, unfolding and folding her napkin. When she goes to unfold it for the fiftieth time, I reach out and clamp my hand over hers.
“Stop that.”
“Creed's kind of a … virgin.” Miranda looks right at me as she says it, stealing my breath away.
“Wha … what?!” I chirp so loudly that the first year girls stop talking and turn to gape at us, equal parts fear and envy in their eyes. It's such a different way than I was looked at for the past two years that I'm not sure what to make of it. I reach up subconsciously and touch the opal earrings Creed gifted me for my birthday. I told myself I wasn't going to, but I looked up similar earrings online … and they're worth a lot. Not as much as a car, maybe, but these guys are all so rich, I don't necessarily equate more money spent to better gifts. I snort. “He is not a virgin.”
“Yes, he is,” she repeats, raising both brows. “I know he presents otherwise, but he is.”
“You don't know that …”
“Yes, I do!” she says, spilling her lemonade in her excitement. “We're twins.” She rolls her eyes, like this should be obvious. “He's a virgin. I know that for a fact.”
I suck my bottom lip under my teeth. I'm still not entirely sure I believe her, but if that's true, then Creed is one hell of an actor.
“Why are you telling me this? And you're right: maybe it wasn't your story to tell?” Miranda grins, and shrugs.
“True, but I felt like you should know. I mean, I don't think any of the other four are … I just figured it might mean something to you.”
I'm silent for a minute, and our waiter comes out with our orders. I'm seriously reeling from the info, and I have no idea what to do with it. Does that make a difference? I think back to the hot tub again.
“Anyway, like I said, if you're not going to pick me, pick Creed.” She pauses and waits for me to say something.
“You know I love you,” I tell her, and she sighs, hanging her head.
“But not like that?”
I stay silent, and we both pick up our forks to eat.
After that, we don't mention the kiss again, but Miranda still watches me with a certain look. I'm not sure if she's given up yet, but I'm glad we had that talk.
She's my backbone at the academy, and she's right: she's the one person here who's not a part of the Club. I feel in my heart that I can trust her.
Everyone else … I'm not so sure about.
Creed and I start our tutoring sessions again, and it's a much more relaxed atmosphere than it was last year. Honestly, I feel like for the first time ever, he's actually trying. He listens when I talk, and the way he follows me with his eyes …
"Miranda's in love with you," he says suddenly, interrupting our easygoing Wednesday session in the library. Today, he brought me an entire stack of yaoi—Japanese comics focusing on boy-on-boy relationships—as a gift. I reminded him that last year, he called them gauche and rolled his eyes, but I accepted the ribbon wrapped bundle anyway because there were several in there that I really want to read.
"Um," I hedge, feeling color creep into my cheeks. "You saw everything that happened."
"She's infuriating, you know that?" he drawls, folding his arms on the table and laying his cheek on them. His eyes are so heavy-lidded right now. There's a bit of anger in his voice, but I can tell it's not meant for me. "Some twin. Hitting on the girl I've already decided I want."
"Hah, you've decided?" I give him a look. When our eyes meet, my stomach clenches. But, like, in a good way. He's an arrogant jerk, but for whatever reason, I still like him, this lazy, little rich boy.
"I just can't believe that she's interested in you, too. What are the chances?" Creed sits up and stares at me for a minute. I can't say anything when he looks at me like that. My throat's too tight. "You seem to have a lot of people interested in you, Marnye Elizabeth Reed."
"Tristan once called me a Mary Sue, maybe that's it?" Creed smiles at the joke which I find surprising. Usually just the mention of the T-word makes him frown. "Honestly, I'm still half-convinced you guys have another bet going."
"There's no bet," Creed says, scowling. But like, screw him because I have every right to be suspicious. "Nothing that involves hurting or harming you anyway."
"Well, that's cryptic," I reply, leaning back in my seat and giving him a look. Our knees bump together and a shiver takes over me. Creed notices and smiles nice and slow. "What exactly do you mean by that?"
"There were other bets or suggestions of bets involving you, like the one with Zack," he says simply, shrugging. "The one he tried to make when you crashed the party at the amphitheater."
Ah, right, the night with the knucklebones. Like that wasn't creepy at all. Harper du Pont really is a special sort of monster.
"Can you tell me about it?" I query, and Creed's smile gets even more wicked. "And is there a reason you guys hate him so much?"
"Marnye, there's a whole host of things we could talk about, but there's only one subject I'm interested in."
"Creed," I warn as he leans forward, and I shoot up out of my chair.
Alright. I've accepted it. I have a bit of a thing for him. For Tristan. For Zayd. For Zack. Windsor … is just a friend, right? Or … maybe I'm just scared to admit I'm crushing on him when I'm not too sure that he likes me back?
Creed follows me as I weave through the aisles, he
ading back toward the history section and sliding the binder full of old school newspapers back on the shelf. We're in separate history classes, but we both have the same assignment: put together an essay on Burberry Prep and its relation to politics during the late eighteen hundreds. Ugh.
"Marnye," he repeats, and I spin around. It's still so new to me to hear the boys call me by my name. Zayd still occasionally says Working Girl, and both him and Tristan say Charity, but there's an affectionate little tint to it now that I actually like. I'm all about reclaiming and re-purposing words.
"What?"
Creed leans in close, putting his hands on the metal shelf on either side of my hips. He doesn't touch me, but there's barely a hairbreadth between us. My mind conjures up Miranda's words: For what those boys did to you, they should let you date them all until you make up your mind.
"I've been patient, but on the inside, I'm wasting away."
"Drama queen," I blurt, and then after a second, "drama prince." Creed has always struck me as more of a prince and less of a king. And it's not because he's inferior to Tristan, it's just … he's different. If he spent less time trying to be or beat Tristan, and more time on his own endeavors, he'd be a force to be reckoned with.
Creed smirks, and I do my best not to sigh as his scent overwhelms me. He always smells so damn clean, like laundry detergent on fresh crisp cotton, hung out in the bright sun and brisk breeze to dry. Wow, Marnye, waxing poetic much?
"It's true." He leans in close and presses a kiss next to my left eye. My body shudders, and I hear him make this satisfied male sound. "I've been on pins and needles. And you have no idea how much I want to punch Zack."
"He's a good guy," I whisper, but it's so hard to think with Creed this close to me, his uniform just slightly disheveled, the top three buttons undone and revealing just a glimpse of flat, smooth chest underneath.
He makes a small sound of acknowledgement, but that's about it.
"I want to kiss you so bad right now," Creed drawls, and my pulse skyrockets. I can hear the blood pounding in my head.
The Envy of Idols Page 11