The Envy of Idols (Rich Boys of Burberry Prep #3) - C.M. Stunich Page 0,18
her shoulder. “I mean, you're crushing on a lot of guys, but I thought Tristan was one of them.”
“I am not crushing!” I blurt, but that's totally not true. I am. I'm just not sure … exactly how many crushes I have, or if all of them are healthy options. “Lizzie is a friend, not a threat.” Those words ring true, both aloud and in my heart, and I breathe a sigh of relief. Even if I am crushing on Tristan … it doesn't matter. If he loves Lizzie, he loves Lizzie. That's it.
A ball of ice forms in my tummy, and I suddenly have a stomachache.
“You two should get dressed,” Kathleen says, pushing open the cracked door with a smile. “Guests are starting to arrive.” I nod, and Miranda groans, but we both get up to change. Miranda heads back to her room, and I change in the bathroom, slipping into a soft, white jersey knit dress and sandals.
When I come out, Zayd is there waiting for me.
“Hey,” I say, pausing shyly in the doorway, my dress fluttering around my ankles. He glances up from his phone, sees me, and smiles.
It's a nice smile, too, genuine.
Butterflies take over my insides, spreading their wing dust all over my common sense. I've been here, done this with Zayd before. And yet …
“Seeing as I won't be around for your seventeenth birthday,” he starts, sitting up, and pulling something from his pocket, “I wanted to give you this.”
I put my dirty clothes in my duffel bag, and then head over to the bed, reaching out to take the item in Zayd's hand. As soon as my fingers brush his palm, he grabs onto me and yanks me forward. Our bodies crash together and we tumble back onto the surface of the bed.
I'm surrounded by that sage and geranium scent of his, teased with the slightest kiss of tobacco and cloves.
“You shouldn't smoke clove cigarettes,” I blurt, our faces so close together that our mouths brush when I talk. Zayd's inked arm is around my waist, and I can feel his heart beating against my own chest. “They'll kill you, you know.”
“Maybe,” he whispers, and then he captures my mouth with his, kissing me with this lightness that I haven't felt in him before. It takes over me, and before I know it, I'm kissing him, too. Zayd's hands roam my back, but don't stray any further, like he knows not to push boundaries.
My mind flickers with memories of a time just like this, during first year, when he had a camera set up to …
I jerk back with a gasp, and sit up on the edge of the bed, clutching the item I stole from Zayd's hand.
It's a pair of earrings, made from guitar picks.
“Those are from my first concert,” he whispers as he sits up, too, his mouth smeared with the pale pink of my lipstick. “I opened for some backyard punk band at this little place in downtown Santa Cruz. There were like … maybe ten people in the audience?” Zayd stares at the floor, his eyes distant and far away. When he turns them back up to me, there's a passion burning there that makes me flush. “I'm pretty sure I've never been happier than I was in that moment.”
I smile, and he smiles back.
There's a knock on the door, and Miranda calls my name.
“Just a minute,” I shout back, looking at Zayd. He seems … like maybe he's strung a little tight? But a lot of that shame he was carrying is gone. “Did you come here to kiss or to talk?” I ask as I reach up and struggle to get the earring through the hole in my lobe. Zayd scoots closer, and takes over, helping me get them both in.
Once he's finished, he reaches out and cups the side of my face.
“You're leaving tomorrow?” he asks, and I nod. It feels almost bittersweet, like the end of an era. I know that's not true, but there's something about the soft sunshine filtering through the windows, the call of the gulls, and the lapping of the ocean that makes it feel that way. “Then I guess we sort of … need to talk turkey?”
My mouth flattens out into a neutral line, and all that anxiety and angst I've been feeling rises to the surface.
“I just don't understand how you could hate me, and then …” I trail off as Zayd drops his hands into his lap. He