I try not to think about what I owe the Idols.
A favor. A kiss. A secret.
Miranda holds open the door to the gym, and I step inside, slamming into a chest so hard that it hurts my nose.
Creed is standing there, and he narrows his eyes as I reach up to rub at my face.
“Your pecs are painful,” I grumble, but he’s already ignoring me, focusing on his sister instead.
“You haven’t spoken to me in weeks. I’m sick of it.”
“So you’ll follow me into the girls’ locker room?” Miranda asks, pursing her lips. Her eyes brim with sudden tears. “Why don’t you just control my entire life?” She turns to leave, and I’m so shocked that I just stand there. Creed, however, reaches out and grabs hold of her upper arm, keeping her in place. “Tristan told me you were sniffing around, asking everyone at the party about me.” She tries to pull from her brother’s grip, but his fingers tighten until she winces. He sees, and an almost imperceptible muscle in his jaw twitches before he lets go. “If you want to know something, Creed, then ask me yourself.” She glares at her brother, nostrils flaring, left hand curled in the pleats of her skirt.
“Who are you dating, and how did Derrick fuck-face get a hold of nude photos?”
“Derrick …” Miranda starts, cheeks flushing. I told her what happened at the lodge, but she laughed it off, saying that Derrick Barr was just a texting fling. She showed me the images that Creed was referring to, rationalizing that she was wearing a bra so they ‘weren’t really nudes’. I didn’t know what to say to that. Doesn’t matter how naked she was in those pics, that didn’t give Derrick and his friends a right to pass them around and make vulgar commentary. I’m almost glad he got his ass handed to him by Creed and Tristan. “He’s nothing.”
“Are you screwing Tristan?” Creed asks, blue eyes sparking with rage. My mouth drops open. He came to the same conclusion as I did … I remember Abigail’s face when Tristan whispered in her ear. He’s a monster, no doubt about that. Just before Zayd and I left the casino, I found him and asked what he’d said, and he smiled at me. “I told her she could never have me. Nobody can. And if by some miracle, I were going to choose a girl, it sure as hell wouldn’t be her.” Tristan smirked at me then, leaning close and putting his cheek against mine. “I said I’d rather date the eager little charity case.” And then he’d pulled back and left in his father’s car.
“Tristan?” Miranda chokes out, sounding nervous. She flicks her gaze in my direction, and then shakes her head. “I’m sorry, Marnye, just … tell coach I’m having period cramps.” She turns and takes off down the hall, her bookbag and ponytail bobbing.
Creed and I turn and look at each other, almost in unison. He frowns at me.
“You’ve had two weeks, and I haven’t heard shit.”
“Whoa,” I start, as he reaches up and shoves some of that white-blonde hair of his from his face. He’s scowling now, and I’m reminded of his expression when he challenged Derrick on the back deck. When it comes to family, Creed is dead serious. “She hasn’t told me anything, Creed. We talk about everything except for her love life. Literally, I could tell you your sister’s favorite brand of tampons, but not who she’s dating.”
“Please don’t,” Creed says, closing his eyes. He looks tired for real right now, leaning up against the wall with his shoulder. The bored princely routine is put on hold for the briefest of instances, and I find my cheeks heating up. I imagine this doesn’t happen often. “I’d rather not know that about Miranda.”
“She is your twin, after all,” I joke, trying to force a smile. Too much. Creed’s eyes snap open and he stands up straight, locking his insouciant expression back into place. “But I’m worried about her, too. She’s being kind of … distant. She barely talks to me, she got mad at me for texting Lizzie, and when Tristan comes around, she bolts. The only other person she seems to talk to besides me is Andrew.”
“Andrew, huh?” Creed starts, thinking for a moment.
“Creed!” Harper calls out, waving enthusiastically from the other side of the gym. “Hurry up and get changed. We’ve got a bet going on which boy can get the best lap times.” She drops her hand and turns to go, but not before giving me an angry little scowl and a supremely bitchy hair-toss.
“You think Miranda’s dating Andrew?” I ask. “But what about Tristan?” At the sound of his fellow Idol’s name, Creed starts scowling again.
“If I find out he’s banging my sister, I’ll kill him.” Creed pauses, like he’s just realized who he’s talking to. His face shuts down, like he’s got that arrogant heir look on speed dial. “Don’t forget our bet.”
