In the Arms of the Elite (Rich Boys of Burberry Prep #4) - C.M. Stunich Page 0,10

settling over me in a cool wave. “It doesn't matter. I'll sleep at the homeless shelter if I have to.”

You wouldn't survive a single night, I think as I narrow my eyes and unscrew the cap on my drink.

“There's no reason for that. You can stay with me for the rest of the summer.”

“Wait, what?” Zayd asks as I stand up. I give him a frosty look.

“Well, he has to stay somewhere, doesn't he? I guess he'll be just steps away from my bedroom door for the next few months.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Zayd inserts, holding up his hands and backpedaling a little. “Of course he can stay with me. We're almost sorta, kinda friends.”

“I wouldn't go that far,” Tristan says, narrowing his eyes and sighing. He looks almost as tired as Windsor. I swallow hard and lick my lips, drawing his attention up to me. There's this strange, silent communication that passes between us. Breakfast when he pushed me over the table, that game of Twister, Lizzie's confession. “But I accept the offer.”

“Good on you,” Zayd murmurs with a roll of his eyes, pausing as the driver of the bus pops his head in and asks to speak with him for a moment. “Be right back. Don't get into too much trouble while I'm gone.” He hops down the bus steps, and the door swooshes shut softly behind him, sealing Tristan and me into the air conditioned space together.

“Can I ask you a question?” I start, trying to fill the awkward silence. Tristan moves over to the table and sits across from me, his silver eyes cutting across the surface and digging straight into my soul. He moves one foot forward and ends up brushing it against mine.

“You can ask it. Maybe I'll answer it, maybe not.” I narrow my eyes and take a sip of my tea.

“What colleges did you apply to?”

Tristan goes very still, like that's not a question he'd even remotely considered me asking. He reaches up and runs his fingers through his silky, raven-dark hair, looking out the window toward the street instead of at my face.

“That's your question? You don't want to ask about my father, or about Lizzie, or even why I tried so hard to beat you during third year?”

“You always try hard to beat me. What's new? Tell me where you applied.”

Tristan pauses, leaning back in his seat as he studies me carefully.

“Harvard.” Of course. “Stanford.” Expected. “Brown.” Interesting choice. “Oxford.” That's too freaking far away. Tristan takes another drink of his beer, watching my face like he's expecting a certain type of reaction from me. “Bornstead.”

My heart leaps out of my chest, and I stand up.

“I've already decided against that one though,” he adds before I can get too excited.

“Why?” I snap, setting my iced tea down and crossing my arms over my chest. “I feel like you're doing this to me on purpose.”

“I already told you, Marnye, you're better off without me.” Tristan stands up, like this conversation is over. But I haven't even gotten started. I step in front of him when he goes to leave, and he narrows his gray eyes on me. “What are you doing?”

“Stopping you from running away,” I say, holding my arms wide. Might be a tad dramatic, but that's okay. I don't care. Tristan Vanderbilt is a man used to getting whatever he wants. Well, what he wants right now is to take the easy road and run from me. I'm not having it. He'll have to get used to compromise. “You think you're such a bad man, but you're not. Are you a spoiled brat? Sure. Do you have a lick of cruelty in your blood? Yes. But … I like you anyway.”

Tristan stares down at me, breathing heavily, and then tosses his empty beer bottle into the sink. His signature cinnamon-peppermint scent hangs heavy in the air between us, wrapping around me like a spell.

“It'll take more than just a high school crush to turn me around, Marnye.” He tries to move past me, but I grab onto his arm and he stops suddenly, chest rising and falling with rapid breaths. Those cruel eyes slide over to look at me. “You don't deserve to spend your life trying to reform some asshole. I can't even afford to go to college now.”

“We can get you some scholarships; it's not too late, Tristan. If you want something, there's a way to make it happen. Look at me: I got into Burberry Prep against