In the Arms of the Elite (Rich Boys of Burberry Prep #4) - C.M. Stunich Page 0,76
Carmichael, he’d been sleeping with my sister.” I wait, seeing if she might elaborate a little. Fortunately, the silence, filled only with the clink of cups and the distant murmur of a coffee grinder, seems to spur her on. “And then there was you, this … easy target. You were going to school with Zack, and … to be honest with you, I didn’t care. I hated Adam, and I hated the Carmichaels, and I just …” She trails off again and looks away, toward the snack counter. “I didn’t think of you as a real person back then, just a distant object. I thought of them all that way, all the Plebs.”
My mouth tightens into a thin line as Lizzie looks back over at me.
“That’s it? I was collateral damage? Nothing more?” Somehow that makes it even shittier.
“Well, that, and when Zack mentioned you in passing, I … maybe I was jealous. He called you beautiful. I’d never heard him talk about a girl like that before.” Lizzie and I stare at each other, and her face flushes. Hopefully she realizes how ridiculous she sounds. “I’m sorry. I can’t say it enough. I’ll say it forever if I have to: I’m sorry.”
“You’re sorry now,” I tell her, and then I guess maybe her embarrassment is too much, or I’ve pushed her too hard or something because she gets really freaking cranky then.
“Look, you’ve gotten your revenge on me. You have Tristan now, and what do I have?” She stands up and knocks her bag of pastries to the floor, spilling crumbs everywhere, her black pleated skirt swirling around her thighs. “I have nothing. Nobody. Nobody likes me at this school. I came here to help you, I …” She trails off, and then pauses when she realizes I have no plans to engage her on this.
“I had you on my list, you know, for revenge.” I stand up and gather my things in my arms, my bookbag clutched in tight fingers as I look over and meet Lizzie’s eyes. “But you were so heartbroken when you saw Tristan and Harper engaged that I couldn’t do it anymore. That was it. I thought you were hurting enough. But if I’d wanted to, I could’ve gone a lot further. Look, I’m giving you a fair shot at him because I want him to be the one to make the decision, but what you did to me was wrong. I hope you truly realize that.”
I take off, and then pause when I hear the clattering sound of broken glass, glancing back over my shoulder to see that Lizzie’s knocked her coffee cup and saucer to the floor. She’s quite literally panting with frustration, but I don’t have the time to deal with it.
Something else is going on with her, and it has nothing to do with me.
Later that same day, when I’m walking out of The Mess with Miranda by my side, Harper comes storming down the hallway in a violent rage. She pauses next to me, teeth gritted, and jabs me in the chest with a finger.
“I’m biding my time, but when I finally do deal with you, Reed, you are fucking dead. Do you hear me?” She shoves me back, and Miranda goes for her, but I hold her back, waiting until Harper’s around the corner before I let go. I’m about to head off in search of Wind when he finds me, like he always does.
He chucks something at me, and I catch it, realizing quite quickly that it’s not something I want to be holding onto at all. It’s a wet, soggy bra. Not mine, most definitely. Somebody else’s.
“Eww.” I drop it and Wind catches it in quick fingers, tossing it into the nearby trash can before Ms. Felton and Mrs. Collins come around the corner with a sobbing Ileana between them. She’s holding her hand over her chest and weeping.
“I promised you I’d deal with her.”
“Windsor,” I start, a warning note in my voice. He looks back at me with a dark expression that quickly morphs into a hunger that my body responds to, even if my brain rebels against it. “What did you do?”
“I posted Ileana’s private messages to Harper on Becky’s Facebook page. Becky …” He pauses again as Becky Platter rages past us, barely glancing in our direction. “As I was saying, Becky shoved her down the stairs and poor Ileana landed chest first. I think … you wouldn’t say pop …” Wind snaps