“I'm glad you're here,” Zack says, reaching out to give my hand a squeeze. I smile, and when he lets go, I curl my hands around my drink, so I don't have to feel them tingling. Zayd watches our entire interaction, and then exhales sharply, his jaw tightening, like he's just made a decision about something. I have no idea what that is because Tristan's just stepped forward, and without having to say a thing, he's drawn everyone's attention his way.
Well, everyone but Windsor. The prince dances back into the kitchen and appears with more drinks, passing them out to Lizzie and Andrew first, and then grudgingly to Myron, the Idols, and Zack.
“Harper and the rest of the Bluebloods will be at the party tonight,” Tristan says, and I can tell by the way his eyes narrow that he's thinking about that night at the Royal Pointe lodge. At the end of this year, we'll have another school-sponsored trip back to that same lake. Closing my eyes, I suck in a deep breath and try not to think too hard about it. “We don't talk to them, and we don't acknowledge them.”
“How, exactly, will that help?” Windsor inserts as I look around and realize that the people gathered here, don't have much of a connection. Or if they do, not much of a good one. Lizzie and Tristan are exes with unresolved feelings, Windsor hates the Idols and vice versa, Andrew was kicked out of the Bluebloods, and Zack is an outlier that most of them have hated from day one.
What a group of misfits we are.
“They're dead to us. Everyone needs to know that. The rest, we deal with later.” Tristan turns to go, and I grab onto his arm. He pauses and looks down at me for a second before threading his arm through mine. I'm so completely and utterly shocked that my mouth drops open and I nearly let my drink slip from my fingers. “Don't stray too far, and I'll keep you safe.”
Okay, now my mouth is basically on the floor.
“Who are you and what have you done with Tristan Vanderbilt?” I choke out, but all he does is look at me, and then starts to walk, dragging me along with him. We all end up outside, finishing our drinks and leaving the glasses on the patio table.
“Mom and Dad are out dancing. They won't be back until nearly dawn; I'll clean these up when we get home.” Miranda waves her hand dismissively, and we all take off down the beach with Tristan leading the way.
Glancing back, I see Lizzie watching us, and I feel this tightness in my stomach that I can't put words to.
“Does she know you called off your engagement?” I whisper, and Tristan goes completely stiff beside me. Holding onto him like this reminds me of our time in France, the way he let me cuddle up to him at Disneyland, or how he stopped so suddenly outside the Eiffel Tower and looked at me like he had something important to say.
“I have no idea,” he says in that cold, dark voice of his, like a sheet of ice sliding over my heated skin. “I haven't told her, if that's what you're asking.”
My lips purse. I can feel the others watching us, not just Lizzie but Miranda and Andrew, the other two Idols, Zack, Windsor. Only Myron seems totally uninterested.
“Are you going to? I bet she'd like to hear it from you.”
“What do you care about my relationship with Lizzie?” Tristan hisses, his voice drowned out by the crash of the ocean waves against the shore, and the distant laughter of party guests. My cheeks flush, and I'm not sure how to respond to that. And then—I'm going to blame Windsor's strange honesty gathering capabilities—I just blurt something out.
“Sometimes, when I look at the two of you, I think you're still in love with each other.” My voice cracks a little, and my heart pounds, but as soon as I say it, I feel a little better. Tristan stops walking, and I think for an instant there that I might get something real out of him.
But then his face shutters and darkens, and his eyes narrow.
For a split-second, I'm afraid I've royally pissed him off, but then I turn and spot Harper, Becky, and Ileana on the beach, surrounded by adoring fans. My throat gets tight when I see Greg, John, and that new guy, Ben, nearby. Ben was a fourth year, so he shouldn't have been on the school trip to Lake Tahoe. At the very least, he won't be at Burberry Prep next year.
“We have to get Ben before the summer is over.” My voice comes out thin and reedy and tinged with fear. I don't like that. I'm not afraid of Ben or John or Greg or anyone else. I turn to Tristan and catch his gray gaze. “He's not going to be at Burberry next year. We have to get him here, in the Hamptons.”
