“The Cabot Scholarship Award, right? I had a friend try for that one, too. You must’ve been good to beat her out.” Lizzie pauses to take a bite of her pizza, but she’s still smiling at me. Once she swallows, she continues. “She got the Coventry Award of Excellence which is almost as good, and to be quite honest, I’m glad she’s going to school with me.”
“Coventry Prep is … what, three hours from Cruz Bay?” I ask as Lizzie starts to move for the sliding doors, and I trail behind her, finding a pair of seats outside. Tristan is still staring at us. I can feel his gaze like a ray of ice, burning me with frigid cold as I flop down into a wooden Adirondack chair. Zayd and Creed are arguing in low voices in the corner opposite the front door, and Zack’s disappeared again.
What a night.
I won forty thousand dollars, I remind myself, but I won’t believe it until I see it. I’ve learned some pretty hard lessons in life, and not counting your chickens before they hatch is a big one. Still, I can’t shake the bubble of excitement in my lower belly.
“Coventry Prep is about … thirteen hours north of here,” Lizzie says, “so yeah, that sounds about right.” So, closer to home than Burberry Prep. I guess that’s how Zack’s been able to help my dad out. “Northern California, near the redwoods.”
“I’m from Cruz Bay, so I know exactly what you mean,” I say with a grin. “So how do you know Tristan?” Zack had said she was Tristan’s ex, but I’d rather hear the story from the horse’s mouth, so to speak. Lizzie pauses, the crust from her pizza halfway to her lips.
“We’ve known each other forever,” she says, setting the crust down on her plate and sighing. “We started dating in seventh grade, but this summer my dad—”
“I thought my ears were burning,” Tristan says, pausing next to us with his hands tucked into the pockets of his slacks.
“Your friend here was curious about how we know each other. I was just saying we met in … what, third grade?” Tristan smiles, and although it’s slightly less venomous than usual, it’s still not a very happy expression. “And that we dated for over two years.” She pauses, and the tension returns to the air. Tristan’s face softens, and he opens his mouth like he’s going to say something. But then it’s like he remembers that I’m still sitting there and starts scowling again.
“We’re getting ready to head back to campus.” He practically barks that at me, like it’s an order or something. Checking my phone, I see that’s it damn near midnight. Technically there’s no curfew during break, but couples are starting to break off into dark corners, and I imagine the party’s only going to get more … sordid from here on out. “Lizzie, do you need somewhere to stay? You can sleep in my dorm tonight.”
My eyes go so wide, I swear they’re about to tumble out of my face.
Wow. Is Tristan … being nice to this Lizzie chick? I’m finding it really hard to believe, but when he looks at her, he wears a completely different expression than when he’s looking at me. That knot in my belly twists tight, but I ignore it.
“Marnye,” Zack says, appearing in the doorway. Tristan lifts his head to look at him with narrowed eyes. “Do you want to stay here tonight? I’ve got an extra bed in my room.”
The tension rachets up to unbearable levels. Both Lizzie and I are darting glances between the two men, but it’s impossible to tell what’s going on behind the masks they wear. Tristan, hiding behind a sheet of ice. Zack, crouching inside a sea of shadows.
“I’ll take that extra bed,” Lizzie says, looking down at me. “That is, if you’re okay with that?” She glances back at Zack again, blinking rapidly. “Or … I guess that’s presumptuous of me. Are you two together?”
“No,” Zack and I both blurt at the same time. “That’s perfect,” I add, giving Zack an apologetic smile. “I think I’d be comfier in my own bed.” He nods, sighs, and then turns away, disappearing into the crowd. I watch him go before I look back at Tristan. His pissed-off meter has cranked to an all new high.
“I don’t want you sleeping in a room with Zack Brooks,” Tristan grinds out, and Lizzie jerks back like she’s been slapped. Her eyes darken, and she looks away sharply.
“I don’t care what you want, Tristan. My dad doesn’t even want me talking to you, much less taking your advice.”
“And his word is law, huh?” Tristan breathes, lifting his chin up in defiance. Lizzie puts her plate aside and stands up, brushing dark hair back from her face.
