In the Arms of the Elite (Rich Boys of Burberry Prep #4) - C.M. Stunich Page 0,38
can seem to make in that moment. I think I'm … getting pissed off.
“Why not just let Tristan go then?” Lizzie asks, almost like she's pleading. “You can't keep them all. Eventually you'll have to choose.”
My mouth purses into a thin line.
“You're saying I have enough boyfriends, so why not give you one?” Lizzie shrugs, almost helplessly. I can't decide if it's a genuine emotion, or if it's all just an act.
“I mean, not exactly, but … yeah.”
“If Tristan wants to be with you, that's his choice,” I tell her, that anxious knot inside of me twisting even further. It's in that moment that I hate this world and all its stupid rules. Why can't I love more than one person? Parents love more than one child. Grandchildren love more than one grandma. Pet owners love more than one pet. “I can't and won't force or encourage him to do anything.”
“Tristan—” Lizzie starts, but there's the squeak of shoes on the freshly waxed tile floors just before Tristan himself steps into the room, dressed all in black.
With his raven-black hair, gray eyes, and dark frown, he's hauntingly beautiful but also somewhat tragic. My heart shudders in my chest, and I find myself squeezing my tie in a tight fist.
“Tristan, what?” he asks, his voice smooth and low, his expression reserved. “You know I hate being gossiped about.”
“What are you talking about?” Lizzie asks with a girlish laugh, tucking some hair behind her ear. “You love being gossiped about.”
“Mm.” Tristan doesn't reply. Instead, he just stands there and looks at the two of us. As I glance over at him, I can't help but wonder: does he want both me and Lizzie the same way I want him and the other boys? What if he loves two girls the same way I … “Marnye, don't do that,” he says, shocking me out of my thoughts. “You'll wrinkle the silk.” Tristan walks over and uncurls my hand from my tie, smoothing his palm down the length of it. In the process, his hands skims over the full mounds of my breasts, and I shiver with barely suppressed need. “We need to look presentable walking into that school.”
Tristan reaches out and curls a length of my rose-gold hair around his finger, leaving a springy ringlet bouncing against my forehead.
“Because we're Bluebloods,” I state, trying to reinforce that fact for myself as much as for Lizzie and Tristan.
“Because it's going to be a social bloodbath,” Tristan corrects, turning toward the mirror and straightening his own tie. He's entirely monotone from head to toe, other than for the red and white academy crest on the breast pocket of his blazer. “Keep your guard up. Both of you.”
The King of Burberry Preparatory Academy turns on his heel and walks out. I'm not exactly keen on carrying on this conversation with Lizzie, so I trot after him, emerging into the bright sun to find a scene worthy of an anime or a manga.
All of my friends—and boyfriends—are standing next to a white academy limo, dressed in their black uniforms, poised in various states of relaxation. There's Creed, leaning back against the side of the car with his eyes closed while Miranda fixes the buttons on his shirt. Zayd is sitting on the trunk of the car while Zack stands nearby, hands tucked into the pockets of his slacks. Windsor is … somehow on the roof of the limo and not getting chastised by the driver. He has a habit of doing that, getting away with things other people wouldn't.
Andrew waves at me as I jog to catch up with Tristan's long-legged strides. There are a couple of other people there, too, like Briana Chow, Jessie Maker, and Gary Jacobs. It's everyone Tristan recruited to round out the Inner Circle.
Just like the first year I started at Burberry, there are three Idol guys: Tristan, Creed, and Zayd. There are three Idol girls: me, Miranda, and Lizzie. And there are twelve Inner Circle members, including Windsor, Zack, Andrew, Gary, Jessie, and Briana, plus some new faces I don’t know very well yet.
The new Bluebloods of Burberry Prep.
Creed steps aside as I approach, and opens the door for me, blue eyes watching as I slide in across the sumptuous leather seats. He comes in after me, but Zayd's close behind, crawling over to take up the position on my left.
We had sex; I actually had sex with him. My cheeks flame, and I suck my lower lip under my teeth.