Looks like we're about to find out.
“Don't think anything's changed at the academy. I'm still an Idol. Creed, Zayd, and I still have an Inner Circle.” Tristan swings his arm to indicate our little group. “You're looking at them. Hands off.”
“Are you fucking serious?” Ileana squeaks behind him, but he's ignoring her completely. She's a vicious little rat, but that's all she is: vermin. Harper and Becky are the ringleaders, and those boys are their pets. I swallow hard and Zack reaches down to take my hand. As soon as he touches me, I feel warmth surge up my arm and into my chest.
Tristan lifts his head, and I swear to god, it's the cockiest, most arrogant thing I've ever seen, the way he pushes raven-black hair from his face. His gray eyes sparkle as he sneers.
“Burberry Prep has a new queen.”
“Lizzie?” Harper screeches, trying and failing to toss back what's left of her brunette hair. Hah. Go Windsor.
“No,” Tristan says, pointing back at me. “Her.”
“The Working Girl?” Harper blurts, and suddenly, all eyes are on me.
I don't know why, but I stand up.
My heart is pounding so fast that I feel dizzy, but I hold my ground.
“What makes you think you control the academy?” Becky sneers, taking Sai Patel's hand so he can pull her to her feet. The Bluebloods assemble like an army behind the three Idol girls.
“Think?” Tristan echoes, scoffing like Becky's a brainless idiot. I mean, I'm pretty sure she is, but he definitely puts that feeling into his voice in a way I'm not sure I could. “I don't think anything. I am in charge of the academy.”
He turns and starts to walk away when Harper grabs onto his arm, digging her nails into his rounded biceps.
“I haven't told William that we broke up yet,” she says, her voice just this side of pleading. “He doesn't have to know.” I glance over at Lizzie and see that her shoulders have gone completely stiff. She's staring at Tristan with this mix of want and confusion that makes my chest hurt. Maybe … now that he's broken up with Harper, now that he's trying to change his ways, she might want him?
I step forward without meaning to, and both Zayd and Zack stand up behind me.
“I've already told him,” Tristan says, shaking her off. “Stop your groveling. It's pathetic. Nobody here likes you enough to see your vulnerable side and still want to hang out with you. If you want to keep any of your friends, then step down willingly and fade into the background. I have two years left at Burberry to make your life miserable.”
Harper spits in his face, and Tristan scowls, swiping his hand across his face to wipe it off. He keeps walking, heads right over to the refreshments table and gets me the drink that I asked for. While the entire beach watches, he turns back around and delivers it straight to me.
“I won't kiss you with that girl's filth on me, but give me a chance to wash off.” I take the soda, doing my best not to gape, and turn to watch as Tristan heads to the edge of the beach, tears his shirt over his head, kicks off his sandals, and wades in.
The buzzing sound of conversation starts up again, like the chirping of insects, as I turn to Zayd and look at him with a million questions bobbing in my eyes.
“Zayd Kaiser, please explain to me what's happening here,” I whisper as I meet his eyes, and he nods once, briskly.
“I promise I will,” he says, tracing the infinity symbol tattoo over the fabric of his shirt. “Just not here. Before you leave the Hamptons, okay?”
I exhale and take a sip of my soda, but I'm already nodding.
Not here, not in this tank of sharks.
I swear, it feels like the eyes of every single Blueblood are on me. That scares me. We're outnumbered as it is. And I can't be surrounded by my friends—wait, are the Idols really my friends?—at all times. What happens next time Harper catches me alone in the locker room? Or I come around the corner in the chapel building and find John and Greg waiting for me? My mind strays to that video Andrew took of those psychos chasing him down.
Shivers overtake me.
“Ben has to go down this week,” I whisper, and Zayd gives me a tight half-smile. Creed appears a minute later, pausing next to me as Tristan makes his way up the beach with his dark hair dripping.
I'm not going to lie: he looks like a god.
“So much for ignoring them then?” Creed drawls, yawning and lifting his chin defiantly. “Now what, your majesty?”
“If they engage us, we push back. Don't let them see any cracks in our comradery, Creed.” Tristan pushes sopping hair from his forehead as Windsor steps up beside him, still sipping foamy beer from a cup. The two men exchange a brief look.
