so unapproachably gorgeous that I don’t know what to do.
“You … you’re engaged to Harper?” I ask, and his brow crinkles, mouth twisting into a scowl. “Even after she tried to drown me?”
“I explained this to you,” he says, but there’s this quaver in his voice that reminds me of a trapped animal, looking desperately for escape. “My dad won’t allow anything else.”
“Do you even like her?” I ask, and he just stares me down with his cold, silver gaze.
“I stopped liking her when I found out she beat you.” That’s all he says, and the words are cold enough, but the meaning behind them makes my heart flutter.
“So, can you do me a favor?” My heart is racing so fast now, I can feel it in my palms.
“What?” Just that one word. Tristan seems like he’s on edge now, too.
“Be my date to the party at the lake house.” He sighs and swipes his palm down his face, like he’s suddenly tired. I move forward and grab the front of his academy jacket, and he freezes like he’s been slapped. “Do you like me, Tristan?” I ask, and I realize I’m asking so many questions with that one single sentence. I’m asking him if he’s sorry, if he’s willing to cause a rift in the Bluebloods, if he can prove to me that he knows what the girls did was wrong. In the pool, backstage at the concert, they took things too far. Way, way, way too far.
He reaches down and takes my hands in his, the warmth of his skin overwhelming me. His peppermint and cinnamon scent surrounds us and he leans in, breathing against my hair. He doesn’t kiss me though, not like I want him to. His hands squeeze mine just a bit harder before he’s pushing them gently away. A slight scowl takes over his lips, but I’m pretty sure it’s not intended for me.
“I’ll take you to party,” he says, his voice so smooth it’s like silk, “but after that … no more. Marnye, you can’t stay here, and you can’t have me.” Tristan pushes me away and turns quickly, moving down the hallway so fast that by the time I decide I want to go after him, he’s disappeared. Even when I peek around the corner, there’s no sign of him.
My stomach drops, and I can’t decide if that was a victory … or a defeat.
Zayd is the last one of the Idols that I seek out. Maybe because I feel like there really was something between us, so his betrayal stings the worst? I don’t know. For whatever reason, he’s pulled away from me even more so than Tristan. The texting’s been helping, but whenever I approach him in person, he seems to find a reason to run.
We’re in the middle of a long text conversation when I find him sunning himself outside on a picnic table. Boo is the last thing I send before I poke him in the shoulder and make him jump.
“You’re running away from me,” I say aloud, and he sits up, crossing his legs and raising his pierced brow at me.
“Um, no? I’m just sitting here,” he says, giving me a cocky, stupid little smile that’s one hundred percent fake. “If I were running, Charity, you’d know, because you’d see my tight ass booking it across the field.” He grins as I climb up on the table to sit beside him.
“Do you still have the trophy?” I ask, and I swear he chokes on his own spit. He tries to cover up the motion by getting out a cigarette and a lighter, and peering around to check for any staff members before he starts smoking it.
“Maybe, why?” he says softly, and I can feel it, that gap between us widening again.
“Could you bring it to Royal Pointe?” I ask, and he looks at me like I’m a crazy person. “It’d be cathartic for me to have it.” I glance up at him from under a fall of rose-gold hair. “Be my date to the party.”
Zayd scoffs.
“Why would you want to go with me? Charity, really, are you a glutton for punishment?” I glance over at him, put my hand on his knee, and then lean forward like I’m going to kiss him. Surprisingly, he pushes me back. “No. No, I’m not doing this.”
“Why not?” I ask, and I feel all those horrible emotions bubbling up inside of me. Zayd sighs and looks away, smoking his cigarette, his