Elite

by Carrie Aarons

  I was scared that I fancied him, more than fancied. These were dangerous preoccupations, and I needed to slap myself back into reality a little. So denying that there was anything going on eased my turmoil a little, even if Nora had no clue what I was lying about.

  “And you know that I want neither, so we’re all good.” She’d gotten better at brushing off my sarcasm, and I was impressed.

  “So how is Philadelphia? And Asher? Tell that wanker I miss him.” Truthfully, there were days I missed the old gang, and the trouble we would get into.

  But it had been years since our time at Winston Prep, and I didn’t keep in touch well enough to really be close with Speri, Drake, Katherine or Ed. We saw each other if any of them ever happened to want a night out in Paris, or if we happened to attend the same party here and there, but that was about it.

  Nora sighs. “Everything here is really good, actually. We moved into our own apartment last semester, Asher is really excelling in the business program, I’m on track to start in the medical graduate program next semester, and my mom is about to pop any day now.”

  Rachel and Bennett, Nora’s parents, had announced the royal pregnancy just three months ago, and she was due in just about a week. I knew that my friend was over the moon to be a big sister, not that we knew what they were having as they wanted to keep it a surprise.

  “When you win your first Nobel Prize, remember to thank me in your speech,” I joked.

  “I will. ‘To my beautiful, foul-mouthed friend, Eloise … thank you for making me blush and getting me drunk in high school,’” Nora teases.

  “Hey, those were good times, you can’t deny it. But in all seriousness, you’re going to kick arse at this sibling thing. Not that I’d know, I’m too selfish to not be an only child, but that little boy or girl is very lucky.”

  “See, Ellie, I know you have that sweet side underneath all that sarcasm.”

  “Sod off,” I bite out, still joking but wanting to preserve my reputation. “And you know I hate it when you call me Ellie.”

  “Which is why I do it. Anyway, I have to run, class in twenty minutes. We’re dissecting cadavers today.” She sounds way too excited about touching dead bodies.

  I shudder. “That sounds terrible. I’m off to taste some priceless champagne in class.”

  “Is your life even real? No, don’t answer that … we both know it isn’t.”

  “Says the princess. All right, big hugs and kisses, love. Say hi to Asher for me.”

  Nora is ruffling papers in the background. “Love you, talk to you later.”

  We click off, and I look around my dorm room. It’s freezing outside, February bringing temperatures like I’ve never experienced. Of course London was cold, and so was Paris for that matter, but winter in Vermont was another beast. I was almost bowled over by the snowdrifts every time I walked outside.

  Reaching for my laptop, I decide to do something that I normally never do. Clicking onto Netflix, I select a show that I’ve heard people on campus buzzing about, some program called Narcos. I’m not usually one for TV, much less staying in bed all day and watching it, but this is part of my exposure to normal college life.

  So I’ll try it.

  Five hours later and half a pound of Swedish Fish in my stomach, I lift my head when Jane comes in the room.

  Pausing the episode out of courtesy, I wait to see what she’s going to do.

  Her lip tilts, and I think that qualifies as a smile. “Narcos? Cool.”

  Never in my life have I felt so posh as when my roommate, who never seems to take joy in anything, compliments me on my choice of binge. I’m acing this normal college life thing.

  Nineteen

  Colton

  “You said you wanted a normal, suburban dinner date. So that’s what you’re getting.”

  I open the door to Tommy’s Pizza, letting Eloise walk in front of me.

  “Mm, pizza … nice choice. I feel sublimely average already.” Her smile dazzles me, and I can’t help but put my hand on her back as we walk through the restaurant, trying to find a booth.

  People look our way, and I kick myself for taking her to such a college-friendly restaurant. Tommy’s is the most frequented pizza joint in all of Thistle, especially by students, and it was inevitable that people would now talk about us together. Not that I was worried about that, but it would have been nice to have a dinner with her without everyone staring at us, trying to figure out what we were talking about.

  I had wanted to take her on a date, and after Valentine’s Day, it had only taken me stalking her down in her dorm two days later and not giving her a choice. Eloise was stubborn, that was for sure, but it was a game that turned me on. And after we’d spent the night together, I wasn’t allowing her to keep playing it, not if it meant she was going to hide from how she felt.

  “So, I guess first question of our first date, what kind of pizza do you like? And I should tell you before you answer, that Hawaiian is not an acceptable answer. Neither is white … because come on that is not pizza.” I scoot into a booth in the back, somewhat out of view of the nosy eyes looking at us.

  She smiles, her ponytail shaking. Her face is bare of most makeup, her naturally piercing eyes standing out against the blond hair pulled away from her face. I like that she dressed down, matching me in jeans and a plain shirt; it’s relaxed, and for once I feel like we’re on the same playing field. Even though I may be royalty at Jade Mountain, it always clicks in the back of my head that she is serious international royalty, at least in the celebrity and society communities. Eloise comes from a world that I can’t even imagine, and I have a lot going for me in the amateur sports universe of the USA.

  “I like pepperoni, I’m pretty easy when it comes to pizza. Sauce, cheese, bread … yeah I could eat it pretty much any way you serve it.”

  “Good.” I nod, waving over a waiter and ordering us a pie and two beers. “Okay, next first date question … where are you from?”

  I was planning to ask her a lot of questions tonight. Many would assume that since I was usually a one-and-done kind of guy, that I didn’t care about women. But they were wrong. I cared about a specific type of woman … and specifically that was the one sitting across from me. I was genuinely interested in Eloise, and fucking each other’s brains out hadn’t cooled that attraction. So now it was time to get to know her seriously.

  And part of me was footloose and fancy free after picking up my money this afternoon from the garage where Mac had left it. I’d sent some of it to Joelle for my mom’s care, and I could breathe a little easier.

  “Well, I’m from London, but originally Liverpool. Do you know where either of those are?” she teases.

  I take a drink of my beer when the waiter sets it down. “Only in relation to Premier League teams, because I’ve never been there. But what is your favorite part about your hometown?”

  She taps her chin, and I watch the polished finger nail as she thinks. “I just love the bluntness about Englanders. There isn’t much bullshit, not like in the States. Even with the crowd I’m lumped with, most everyone always says what they mean on the first try.”

  I nod, thinking that must be nice. “No having to decode or wade through lies?”

  “Exactly.” She nods, and my stomach wavers, because if she knew the secrets I held, she’d look at me differently. “And are you from Vermont?”

  I chuckle. “No, I’m actually from West Virginia.” Her eyes are confused, and I realize she has no idea where that is. “It’s south of here, about thirteen hours.”

  “Oh, wow, that’s far. And your family is all there, still? Why did you choose to come so far?”

  If I answered the truth, I would tell her that being recruited for Jade Mountain had been my saving grace. That it finally got me out of the hell hole that was my bumfuck hometown, and my family’s insanity. That the farther I got, the less I had to deal with the fallout my mother’s illness held over my life. But of course, I can’t say these things.
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  “I was recruited heavily by Jade Mountain, and they were able to give me a scholarship, you know since some of us aren’t filthy rich,” I joke with her, brushing off any questions about family.

  Eloise rolls her eyes. “I didn’t have money until I was in high school, so I know what it’s like to live among the peasants. Cheeky bastard.”

  Maybe we weren’t as different as I thought we were.

  Our pizza gets delivered to the table, and we both pull a slice out, the cheese running as we slop it onto plates.

  Eloise takes her first bite and makes an audible groan, closing her eyes.

  “I think I had that same effect on you the other night.” I can’t help but stare at her across the table.

  “You’re dirty, Colton Reiter.” The blush creeps up her neck.

  “Only because I love the way you turn pink when I am.” It’s fun to flirt with her.

  “But this is really good. Okay, my turn. Why basketball?” she asks this as if I had any other choice.

  I shrug. “It was always what I was good at. I picked up a ball at the age of six, and a coach told me I had talent, so I just followed it. It got me through high school, into college, and now I’m being scouted by pro teams. But it’s not just that … I guess I can’t describe it if you’re not an athlete. It’s just this … innate thing that is part of me. I have to play, to live basically.”

  She nods. “It’s kind of like me and cooking … my brain works the best when I’m thinking in terms of recipes. Maybe that’s how it is for you, too?”

  I know she understands, then. “Exactly. Tell me about cooking school.”

  Needing to avoid any more questions about myself, I turn the conversation back to her.

  “It’s not all that complicated really. Like you, I learned that cooking was my … thing from an early age. We didn’t have much growing up, and I’d try to throw together the little groceries we did have to make gourmet meals. Some of them were truly awful, but over time, I got better. When my Dad became the bee’s knees in London, I got to attend classes and work with local restauranteurs. And then I got into the Sorbonne, and it’s been wonderful.”

  Something about her expression when she speaks the last sentence makes me question her. “You sure about that?”

  Surprise blooms in her dark aqua pools. “I guess the last two years have just held more pressure than I realized. Obviously, I’d love to be a chef and plan to make it my career … but I just feel criticized a lot by my professors, and constantly on my toes thanks to my classmates. Not that I don’t like a challenge, but sometimes I just wish I could have more fun while learning and cooking.”

  This girl had talked more about what I felt inside than even I could describe. “You feel like sometimes you want to just strip all the bullshit away, get back to basics and remember why you started doing this. Because you love it, but all of the add-ins give you such a headache sometimes.”

  Eloise slowly nods her head, understanding filling her features. “You get it, too.”

  We spend the rest of dinner devouring the pizza, and talking about our interests and lives. I promise that I’ll teach her how to play basketball, and she swears that she’ll cook me a meal that knocks my socks off. I learn more about how she looks at the world, and have to remind myself that no matter what people’s lives may look like on the outside, they can think very similarly to you.

  And with each passing hour I spend with her, I realize that the sassy British girl I thought I had nothing in common with, is more like me than I could have imagined.

  Twenty

  Eloise

  Bloody professors droning on … why did it always seem that in the States, no one could shut their trap?

  Now I was late, practically running across campus in my thigh-high suede black boots to make it to the Charter House meeting that Gretchen had called. Only thirty minutes ago, as if we were supposed to drop everything at her beck and call.

  Well technically, everyone did that, so it wasn’t a surprise that she expected it. Rounding the corner onto Greek row, I realize that a lot of people are out on their front lawns for a blustery day at the end of February.

  Come to think of it, there were a lot of people out on campus too, carrying boxes which I’d assumed were beer, and some of them had sleighs. Students flood the front lawns on Greek row, beer pong tables set up, ice luges carved out in the snow, everyone bundled up in the perfect winter ensembles, drinking steaming spiked cider from copper mugs.

  What the heck was going on?

  I reach the Charter House gates, and letting myself in, I notice the two huge cabanas with industrial heaters set up. Some of the girls lounge on furry white chairs and couches placed beneath them, music blaring out of the professional speakers set up on the porch.

  “Did I miss something?” I ask one of them as I pass by.

  A girl I recognize, an actual member, smirks at me. “Oh pledges, so naïve. It’s Mountain Day, duh … only the biggest day party of the winter calendar.”

  I had no idea what the meant, and made my way inside to see what this drop-everything emergency was.

  “You’re late,” Ciara says as soon as the warm air from the lit fireplace hits me as I walk through the door.

  I scowl at her, trying to convey with my eyes that I know what she’s done and I’ll drop the bomb if she isn’t nice. She sticks a pointed purple fingernail in her mouth, telling me with her eyes that she isn’t scared of me, and if I punch, she’ll punch back harder. I have to hand it to her, she’s got some big bollocks to go against a girl who has such a secret on her.

  “I was in class.” I don’t apologize.

  “Whatever, just sit down.” Gretchen’s pinched face regards me, and then focuses back on the room. “By now, you’ll all have met various boys from different social clubs. And to be in, you also have to date within the inner circle. So your task for Mountain Day is simply, to come back with a boyfriend from one of the houses, by the time it gets dark.”

  “Sorry, what’s Mountain Day?” I ignore the ridiculous task, instead leaning over to Abby.

  She whispers back, “Biggest party day, always the last Thursday in February. Basically, the student body all converges on Greek row to drink themselves silly, until they can’t feel the cold or the snow. The cops turn a blind eye, and each house has these elaborate setups with tents and heaters and catered food. It’s actually a lot of fun … or well, it usually is. How the hell am I going to land a boyfriend in five hours?”

  Looking at the other three pledges, I mean … it wouldn’t be that hard. Find any weak-minded, easy prey and convince him that you’d snog or shag him whenever he wanted, and they’d be putty in our hands. But I had a feeling that the more impressive the catch, the more weight you’d pull in these final days before they chose who would be officially inducted. Because come on, after almost two months of this shite, it had to be almost over.

  “And you need to do it publicly, declaring your feelings for all of Mountain Day to hear.” Ciara cackles.

  Of course. It wasn’t going to be as easy as pulling someone aside and striking a mutually beneficial deal. They wanted to embarrass us, make us look like desperate fools.

  “I’m sorry, did you think you were going to find boyfriends sitting here?” Nina snaps at us, and we all get up, moving out of the house.

  Striding out into the cold, I grab a cup of whatever cider someone is passing out. The crisp apple and sharp sting of whiskey melt down my throat, calming me and warming my insides. I hadn’t fully expected this, but I had to say, it had its Thistle charm. All of these students partying in the white drifts of snow, the mountain in the background in all of its glory, watching down upon them.

  “You’ll be fine. Find someone, ask under your breath, and then do the whole charade. Honestly, it won’t be real … and look at you, half the guys here will be drooling over themselves to be your boyfriend.” I motioned to Abby and her petite, fairy-like appearance.

  “Thanks, Eloi
se. You always know how to make this all better.” Her eyes say something different though, and I can’t help the shiver that has the hairs standing up on my neck as she turns to leave.

  Taking my time, I mosey over to the front lawn of Keil House. The jocks have tubs and tubs of beer planted on the front lawn, kegs smushed into the snow and televisions set up under heated tents.

  “We wanted to do something reminiscent of a Super Bowl party.” Griffin walks up, winking at me.

  “Well, you know I have no idea what that means, but this is pretty posh.” I give him a thumbs up. “Where is your mate?”

  He slaps a hand over his coat-covered chest. “You wound me, Eloise, always wanting to give him all of the attention. You know he’s just a big lug, right?”

  A big lug that I happen to like seeing naked, and talking to, and dreaming about …

  Griffin points, and I see that giant across the lawn. My heart skips a beat, actually stops and then restarts, like you hear about in the movies.

  I walk straight up to Colton in front of all of the social club members, in front of Gretchen, in front of his teammates. This is Gretchen’s way of embarrassing us, but I’ll beat her at her own game. It’s about time I made my feelings known anyway, and I was tired of having to pretend that I didn’t want to pursue something with their star athlete.

  After Valentine’s Day, we’ve spent the night together twice more, and been texting all day every day. We’ve been skating in circles around the truth; that we want to be with each other.

  And I’d never been one to shy away from anything, so here goes.

  “Can I have everyone’s attention?” My accent rings out thick in the air, and I can feel my heartbeat like a heavy lump in my throat.

  A bunch of people turn to look at me, and some from adjacent lawns start to cheer for no other reason than they are drunk and someone is talking loudly.

  Colton turns to me, his face zeroing in on mine when he sees me. A ripple of something moves through the air between us; attraction mixed with a mutual, unspoken knowledge about how we feel for one another.