The Envy of Idols (Rich Boys of Burberry Prep #3) - C.M. Stunich Page 0,13
to me. “You're a fucking vision, Marnye Reed.” He hands the drink over with a bright grin. “A virgin daiquiri for the virgin girl.”
“Jesus,” I choke, but I take the drink anyway as Windsor's hazel eyes sweep me up and down, and he leans in to give me a kiss on the cheek.
“You're so rude,” Miranda says, hooking her arm through mine as Windsor presents her with a second drink. “But I forgive you since you mixed drinks for everyone.”
“It's one of my passions,” Windsor says, stepping back and putting his hands on his hips as he looks me over yet again. He's dressed in white shorts, a white tank, and black sandals. His red hair seems even brighter paired with the monochrome outfit. “If I weren't a royal, I'd have been a bartender. Even Mum agrees.”
“Fascinating,” Zack says with a roll of his eyes. He's wearing bright red shorts and absolutely no shirt. His hair is wet and slicked back, like maybe he's already gone swimming today. We look at each other, and my heart skips a few beats. Fight for me, I think as I exhale. But even then, I'm confused.
I've never had crushes on more than one guy at a time. Now … my heart doesn't know what to do. I feel pulled in several different directions, and the angst feels like it's going to kill me already.
“I'm glad you're here,” Zack says, reaching out to give my hand a squeeze. I smile, and when he lets go, I curl my hands around my drink, so I don't have to feel them tingling. Zayd watches our entire interaction, and then exhales sharply, his jaw tightening, like he's just made a decision about something. I have no idea what that is because Tristan's just stepped forward, and without having to say a thing, he's drawn everyone's attention his way.
Well, everyone but Windsor. The prince dances back into the kitchen and appears with more drinks, passing them out to Lizzie and Andrew first, and then grudgingly to Myron, the Idols, and Zack.
“Harper and the rest of the Bluebloods will be at the party tonight,” Tristan says, and I can tell by the way his eyes narrow that he's thinking about that night at the Royal Pointe lodge. At the end of this year, we'll have another school-sponsored trip back to that same lake. Closing my eyes, I suck in a deep breath and try not to think too hard about it. “We don't talk to them, and we don't acknowledge them.”
“How, exactly, will that help?” Windsor inserts as I look around and realize that the people gathered here, don't have much of a connection. Or if they do, not much of a good one. Lizzie and Tristan are exes with unresolved feelings, Windsor hates the Idols and vice versa, Andrew was kicked out of the Bluebloods, and Zack is an outlier that most of them have hated from day one.
What a group of misfits we are.
“They're dead to us. Everyone needs to know that. The rest, we deal with later.” Tristan turns to go, and I grab onto his arm. He pauses and looks down at me for a second before threading his arm through mine. I'm so completely and utterly shocked that my mouth drops open and I nearly let my drink slip from my fingers. “Don't stray too far, and I'll keep you safe.”
Okay, now my mouth is basically on the floor.
“Who are you and what have you done with Tristan Vanderbilt?” I choke out, but all he does is look at me, and then starts to walk, dragging me along with him. We all end up outside, finishing our drinks and leaving the glasses on the patio table.
“Mom and Dad are out dancing. They won't be back until nearly dawn; I'll clean these up when we get home.” Miranda waves her hand dismissively, and we all take off down the beach with Tristan leading the way.
Glancing back, I see Lizzie watching us, and I feel this tightness in my stomach that I can't put words to.
“Does she know you called off your engagement?” I whisper, and Tristan goes completely stiff beside me. Holding onto him like this reminds me of our time in France, the way he let me cuddle up to him at Disneyland, or how he stopped so suddenly outside the Eiffel Tower and looked at me like he had something important to say.
“I have no idea,” he says in that cold, dark voice