Tristan just shrugs loosely.
“Among other things. He's never liked me, not since the moment my mother decided she wanted to have me. Then he bought me off of her like he does everything else in his life.” Tristan smiles, but it's a similar expression to the one he was wearing the first day I met him. There's nothing friendly or happy about it. “I'm ranting, excuse me. Do you have a bathroom I could use?”
I give him the nicest, prettiest smile I can muster.
“No, we're peasants, so all we have is an outhouse.” Pretty sure Creed, Zayd, and Tristan all look at me like they're not a hundred percent sure whether they believe me or not. A small laugh escapes me, and I point down the hall. “First door on the right.”
He moves past me, that distinct scent of his—like cinnamon and peppermint—wafts past and I shiver. Tristan pauses suddenly, turning to me and putting his fingers beneath my jaw. The way he looks at me … there's a puzzle in his eyes that I so desperately wish I could solve.
Without saying a word, Tristan releases me and disappears into the bathroom. A moment later, I hear a door bang outside and glance over to see Lizzie climbing down the bus steps.
“What is she doing here?!” Miranda chokes out, her perfect blond hair all tangled up on top of her head in a rat's nest. Creed gives her a look and sighs, lounging back in the sea of blankets and pillows like he owns the place. His mannerisms remind me of that episode of RuPaul's Drag Race that I watched last week, when they were dressing up as wealthy heiresses. “I own everything!”
“She was with us at the Club meeting,” Zack says, giving Miranda a look. “We literally piled into the bus, left, and drove straight here.”
“Whose bus is it?” I ask, my heart pounding, my palms getting sweaty. Tristan and Lizzie were alone at the Vanderbilt Manor for an entire week; I will not spend overly long thinking about what could've happened between them. I won't.
Zayd flashes me a big, white grin and leans his forearm against the edge of the door.
“Mine. This is Afterglow's tour bus.” Zayd pauses as Lizzie comes up the steps, her dark curls swept back in a ponytail, her smile soft and genuine. A strange feeling bubbles up inside of me, but I clamp down on it. If I don't give others the benefit of the doubt, who will? I have to set a good example.
“Hey,” she says, stepping forward to give me a hug. I return the gesture, despite Miranda's dark glare burning a hole in the side of my head. “Cute pj's.” Lizzie chuckles, and I groan, putting my face in my hand.
“Gift from Dad. I couldn't say no.” I glance up as the bathroom door opens and Tristan comes out, his hair wet and slicked back from his face. I try to look for some sort of connection between him and Lizzie, but he isn't looking at her. He's not looking at anyone.
“So …” Zayd starts, drawing my attention over to him again. His hair is still that beautiful sea green color from when we first met. I love it. He could dye it that way the rest of his life, and I'd be happy. Assuming we know each other that long … My heart starts to pound again, and I push the feelings back. I have all year to enjoy what I've got going with these boys. A whole year before I freak out. And it'll be at least December before I hear back from Bornstead.
There's time.
“So, what?” I ask as Tristan leans against the wall near the kitchen entrance, and Creed and Miranda get in some small stupid argument in whispered breaths.
Zayd twirls one of his black lip rings around in a circle with his tongue as he glances down at me with those beautiful emerald eyes of his. His grin morphs slowly into this cocksure little smile as he leans down close.
“You inspired me to get out there and just play some shit, like I used to before we got signed. The boys and I are holding an impromptu concert this weekend.” He pauses and pushes off the door, heeling it shut behind him and crossing his inked arms over his chest. I'm briefly reminded of our first meeting, when he told me I was 'fuckable'. How far we've come since then. “I thought you might like to come along.”
“A concert?” I ask, getting this fluttery sensation inside my chest. “I'd love that. Where at?”
Zayd smirks and puts the sole of his boot up against the door, watching me with half-lidded eyes. He seems to be in a good enough mood, but all I have to do is look at Windsor and Tristan to know that things with the Infinity Club aren't exactly rosy and covered in glitter.
