“Tristan,” I hiss, but he’s ignoring me. The employee comes back in and hands Miranda a dozen red and white roses, and a small stack of cards. Me, I get exactly five. Blinking in surprise, I look through the notes and find one from Andrew, one from Miranda, and three from the guys. Exactly the same people that I sent roses to.
My head snaps up and I find Tristan staring at me. He slaps the remaining cards against the palm of his hand, smiles at me, and then dumps all but one in the garbage.
“To Tristan Vanderbilt,” he reads, his voice so commanding that most everyone in class stops to listen. “Thank you for being a good friend. I’m glad we could overcome our differences. Love, Marnye Reed.” He snaps my name off his tongue like a curse … or a promise. My heart thunders as I stare at him and wonder if he’s going to chuck my note in the trash next. “Thanks, Marnye. I love it.” Tristan snatches a single red rose from the bouquet, tucks it behind his ear, and then hands the rest to some random first-year girl.
He comes over to stand in front of me, and pulls a gold box from his pocket.
“Enjoy.” He tosses it on my desk, tucks his hands into the pockets of his jacket, and saunters out.
My mouth is basically on the fucking floor.
“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god, open it,” Miranda chokes out, grabbing the box and practically shoving it into my arms. Everyone in class is definitely staring at me now, even Ms. Felton. “I mean, I pretty much hate the guy, but … Tristan Vanderbilt does not fall for girls. Ever. You’re like, the second coming of Lizzie.” I give her a please shut up look, and crack the box open.
There’s a white gold diamond necklace inside with a pair of roses on it.
“What …” I start as Miranda gags next to me, fluttering her hands in my direction.
“I know this necklace. I saw it at Neiman Marcus. I almost bought it.” When I just sit there staring at it, she takes it from me and puts it around my neck.
“How much is this worth?” I ask, feeling like I might choke.
Miranda clasps the necklace and sits back, looking at me with a sheepish expression on her face.
“Um, eighty thousand?” she says questioningly, and I choke, reaching a hand up to touch the pair of roses. I cannot keep this. There’s no way I can freaking keep this. Why … what is going on?!
Before I can voice any of my concerns to Miranda, Harper du Pont comes storming into the classroom, ripping Tristan’s bouquet away from the startled looking Pleb girl. Like a hurricane, she sweeps into the room and plucks one of the cards from the trash before spinning to face me. When she sees the necklace around my throat, she lets out of one of her pterodactyl screeches.
“You are so fucking done, Reed!” she snaps, moving out the door before Ms. Felton gets a chance to stop her.
I’m not sure whether to be afraid … or exhilarated.
Maybe a healthy dose of both?On my way out of the classroom, one of the academy couriers who hands out mail and packages from home stops me and passes over a small box. As he moves on with his deliveries, I pull the small pink envelope off the top as Miranda whistles under her breath.
“You’ve gotten … popular,” she says, but not like she’s jealous or anything, just in awe.
I know chocolates aren’t your thing, the note reads. Enjoy. Zack.
A smile lights my face as I open the box to an assorted collection of artisan caramels.
Wow.
“These are my favorite,” I whisper, feeling a red flush warm my cheeks. I’m … this day just can’t be real. Days like this do not happen to me.
“Girl,” Miranda starts, raising her brows and biting her lip to hold back a laugh. “Creed is going to lose his mind. I think he actually likes you now.”
“He does not,” I retort, but then I think about the way he kissed me on the deck of the steamboat, and my stomach flutters. I touch a hand to the necklace and feel my heart beating beneath it. “I mean, how could he? I thought they all hated me?” Miranda just stares at me like she’s as confused as I am.
We head down the hall to my room and find Zayd waiting for us. He’s tapping a bouquet of roses against the wall in time to a beat we can’t hear. He’s got one ear bud in, the other hanging down his chest.
“Billie Eilish,” he says, pointing at his ear, and then he pauses the music and tucks his phone in his pocket. “Looks like he got to you before I did.” Zayd’s eyes narrow as he reaches out and lifts the necklace off my chest, his fingers brushing my skin and sending shivers through me.
