In the Arms of the Elite (Rich Boys of Burberry Prep #4) - C.M. Stunich Page 0,79
wants to be, he’s lightning quick. His mouth is on mine, and he’s kissing me with slow, lazy perfection until Zayd clears his throat and draws both of us up and out of our stupor.
“So, the twins got in, I got in …” He glances over at the rest of the group.
“I already told you, Milady, I’d follow you to the ends of the earth. Of course, I’m coming. If you’ll have me, that is.” Windsor shrugs, the weird gold epaulette things he attached to his uniform shimmering as he shrugs. Of course he has to break the severe nature of the fourth-year uniform with gold dangling bits on his shoulders. He wouldn’t be Windsor York if he didn’t.
“I’m playing football for Bornstead, it’s official,” Zack says, but Andrew’s shaking his head.
“I’m gonna miss you assholes, but I’m going to Stanford. Sorry.” He cringes slightly and makes a prayer shape with his hands. “And it’s not because Gary’s going there, so don’t believe the rumor. I always knew we were a temporary thing. Actually, I’ve been casually emailing this guy who goes to Adamson All-Boys Academy … now that might be a thing.”
“You keep talking to these internet weirdos, and one day you’re going to get turned into a lampshade,” Miranda warns him, but I’m so happy I’m crying. There are literal tears streaming down my face, and I can’t stop them.
I stand up suddenly, and everyone goes quiet. I look right at Tristan, but he says nothing. He doesn’t have to. I know he got in. The question is: is he going to go to Bornstead with me … or somewhere else? Somewhere with Lizzie, perhaps?
My mind is holding onto that information about his dad, the possibility of reclaiming his father and a fortune bolstered by his father’s new bride … My eyes stray to Zack briefly, and he meets my gaze dead-on. There’s family issues there, too, that I want to sort through.
But first …
“Popcorn and movie time, my room. We can make sharing that bed work.”
“And tea,” Windsor adds, holding up a finger. “Please don’t forget.”
Everyone stands up and shuffles toward the door, laughing, talking … it feels too good to be true.
I’ve noticed in life that when something feels that way, there’s usually a reason for it.
“You’re not going to Bornstead, are you?” I ask Tristan, but he just stares at me like he’s waiting for something.
“Is that what you’d like, Charity? Would that make you happy?”
“Where did you get that black eye?” I ask, sidestepping his question. It feels too personal to answer anyhow, and I swear, we probably only have like thirty seconds before Miranda comes back in here and yells at me for taking too long. “During fall break, where—”
“I know all about my own black eye; I don’t need you to describe it to me.” He reaches up and touches the side of his face in remembrance. I frown, but I know being a dickhead is his way of practicing self-defense. “And you, better than anyone, know perfectly well who gave it to me.”
“Your dad?” Tristan shrugs and turns away. I step toward him, a question on my lips that I know I shouldn’t ask but can’t help and then …
It’s actually Zayd this time that comes tromping in to bug us.
“Come on, Charity, it’s celebration time,” Zayd scoops me up in his arms and carries me out the door and down the steps.
We head down to my dorm and go inside, tea is served all around, and the movie is started.
It’s nearly ten minutes before there’s a knock on the door, and Zack gets up to answer. Without a word, Tristan steps inside and joins us.
Now the bullying and behind-the-scenes manipulation from Harper, that’s expected.
Seeing the king of the school in my room eating popcorn?
That’s the shock of a lifetime.
To celebrate my acceptance into Bornstead, Dad and I go out for waffles first thing. He has to take a seriously loaded edible before we go because he’s having trouble eating. Or rather, he says he just doesn’t feel much like eating.
I’ve missed him like crazy, and sitting across from him in the Station, I feel this inescapable fear that takes hold of every part of my body and won’t let go. My dreams of getting rich and putting Dad up in a mansion to enjoy his retirement seem like a bunch of bullshit right now, like the naïve whimsy of a sheltered girl.