“Fight for one’s love … huh?” His voice trails off, and he scowls, turning away and cursing under his breath. I take a step forward, my hand reaching out and then dropping by my side. I want to tell him … that I’m jealous as all get-out, that I don’t like knowing Lizzie fought so hard to get past her parents’ objections because that means that now, she’s got a clear shot to him.
“The lifestyle he’s accustomed to …” I start, watching as Tristan pauses next to one of the waiting limos and turns around to look at me. He crosses his arms over his chest and raises both dark brows in question. I start to move forward, but slowly, as the thought dawns on me.
Even if Tristan and I both got into Bornstead (we will, considering one of us is going to be valedictorian and the other salutatorian—I better be the former) and worked our asses off, got good degrees and even better jobs, it’s likely he’d never live the Vanderbilt lifestyle again. The best he could really hope for is upper middle-class.
What if that’s a deal breaker? What if I’m holding him back?
Aaaaand, there it is. You’re letting Harper win, letting her get to you. This is exactly the sort of poison dart she meant to throw.
Exhaling and squaring my shoulders, I take off toward the limo and climb in.
When Tristan gets in behind me, I scoot right onto his lap, grab his face in my hands and kiss him.
The sensation of our mouths touching is sharp, almost painful, like he’s cutting me with a knife and making me bleed, but then healing me right after. Pain, pleasure. Sharpness, soothing. A dichotomy. Tristan Vanderbilt’s mouth, much like Zayd Kaiser’s tattoos, is a warning.
I’m hot and wild, and desperate for your touch … but stay away from me or you’ll taste my venom.
With a groan, I pull away from him, and he looks at me like I might be the most confusing thing he’s ever encountered in his entire life.
“I hate football games,” he tells me, but he lets me pull him out of the car anyway, leaving me only when I’m safely deposited next to Coach Hannah.The Mess is fairly quiet, and we don’t have any showdowns at the high table like we did last year. Turns out Harper has carved a new niche for herself in the rear courtyard. Fine by me. I’d rather not battle over chicken cordon bleu with garlic mashed potatoes and roasted zucchini, thank you very much.
I pick at my plate and wonder about Isabella, if she really is my full sister like Harper is claiming, if she’s mixed up in Infinity Club bullshit already. I’ve asked the boys, but they all swear they have no idea, that if she is being sponsored by one of the Harpies, they don’t know about it.
“I haven’t heard anything,” Lizzie says, handing her plate up to waiter when he stops by. I send him with mine as well, even though I didn’t eat much. I’m too distracted, and all the boys (plus Miranda) are busy right now, so … it’s just me and her.
To say it’s awkward as hell would be an understatement. We’ve been back at school for several weeks now, and Lizzie and I only talk in group settings really.
I guess it’s hard to be friends when you’re both after the same guy. That makes me sad somehow, like girl power should extend beyond that. Girl code would dictate that Lizzie not go after Tristan at all, right? Not after you and him started dating. But I can’t begrudge her for her feelings, so I look up and try to make myself smile.
“If I could just get Isabella alone somehow …” I trail off and nibble at my lower lip. “The thing is, she’s always surrounded by Harpies or Company a-holes.” The hidden big sister gene inside of me flares to life, and I so desperately want to warn Isabella away from those guys. None of them are good for her. Then again, you’re dating five of the biggest assholes in school, so how can you really talk?
Dating five guys.
I’m an … interesting role model, surely.
I mean, not that there’s anything wrong with it if we’re all consenting adults, but I can’t get past the idea of the boys also dating multiple girls. I would hate it. I wouldn’t be okay with it. I … I’m a big, fat hypocrite.
Putting my hands over my face, I lean my elbows on the table and sigh.
“Are you angry with me?” Lizzie asks after a few moments, and I glance up, meeting her amber eyes. She was there for me at the lodge when I needed her; she’s helped me defend myself against the Infinity Club this whole time. How can I really be mad? “I mean, about Tristan and everything.”
