the way he grabbed my tie, and all the things I said before that. “Love. It’s possible for someone to love you for you, Tristan. Trust me, I know: I was there.”
My face turns six shades of red, and I move around behind Creed, putting my palms on his back and pushing him right out the door. He's so surprised, he just lets me move him around. When he turns to look at me, his expression of confusion morphs into one of smug, self-assuredness.
“Oh, Marnye,” he starts, but I'm already slamming the door in his face.
“Get dressed!” I shout out, and then I turn and put my back to the door, close my eyes, and sink to the floor.
It's going to be a long, hot summer, that much I know for sure.
I'm the last one to get downstairs, dressed in an outfit I bought for myself when Miranda and I went shopping yesterday. Her eyes glittered when she saw me in, but still, I feel a tad self-conscious …
“Holy shit,” Zayd says as I come down the first curve of the staircase and pause on the landing. I feel like Janey Briggs in Not Another Teen Movie, when she makes a slo-mo appearance on the stairs and then falls through them. Yep, that'd be me for sure. I should never have let Miranda make us watch that damn movie. “Charity, you clean up good.”
“Don't call her Charity,” Zack growls, his brown eyes narrowed as he takes in the rock star with no small amount of distaste.
“As long as it's in jest, I don't mind,” I say, continuing down the steps as Miranda and Andrew exchange a knowing look and then smile at me. Creed is lounging on the couch, draped over it like a boneless king. He pretends not to be looking, but I can feel his gaze like it's made of flames.
Tristan, meanwhile, is standing in the open front door with his back to me, having a low conversation with Myron Talbot. Myron is broad-shouldered, dark-haired, and several inches shorter than Tristan. Despite that, he's got a lean, muscular build, and a shadowed expression that makes me believe all the things that Zayd said about him.
Lizzie is standing nearby, her arms crossed over her chest. As soon as she lifts her gaze and sees me, she smiles big and pushes between the two boys.
“Leather pants? Girl, that ass.” Lizzie skips over, throws her arms around me, and gives me a huge hug. She pulls back, her dark curls frothing around her shoulders, her amber eyes sparkling. She's dressed in denim short-shorts, and a loose yellow tank with big arm holes. Underneath, I can see her black bikini top.
“It's a bit out of my comfort zone,” I hedge, wondering where Windsor is. He's such a big presence that when he's not in the room, there's this noticeable absence. “Do I look okay? I know leather pants and beach parties don't exactly go …”
“But look at these zippers,” Miranda crows, appearing beside me and grabbing the zipper at my hip. Before I can stop her, she's grabbed it and dragged it halfway down, the leather peeling apart and my entire thigh and left butt cheek showing. All the guys notice.
I make a choking sound, and snatch it back from her, zipping myself into the leather again.
“What do you think, Tristan?” Miranda asks, turning to look at him as he steps back into the house with Myron on his heels. I elbow her because, like, why is she drawing his attention my way?
Tristan's gaze rakes over me, over my white Burberry Prep tank covering my new swimsuit, the leather pants underneath, and the wedge sandals that I'm sure will be the death of me. If I end the night without a twisted ankle, I'll be shocked. But I want to make an appearance tonight, stand up to Harper and … A cold chill sweeps over me as yet again, I think about how badly things could've gone. This isn't a game anymore. Maybe it never was?
“You look nice,” Tristan says, and his voice is beyond bland. He may as well be looking at a freshly painted wall or something. My gaze locks on his gray one, and he holds it without shame. There's a darkness there, behind his eyes, that catches my attention anyway.
“Nice?” a voice calls out, just before Windsor appears from the direction of the kitchen. He has what looks like a strawberry daiquiri in his hand that he presents