crossing his arms over his chest. He looks out at Tristan from heavy, half-lidded eyes and smirks. “So did Brooks.” Tristan stares at Creed, and the tension between the two of them is thick and toxic. They’re still competing with each other, even if they’re not completely aware of it.
“Oh?” Tristan echoes, his voice as cold and gray as the stones arching above our heads. He stands there, all perfectly tailored and put-together, but there’s a tightness in his jaw that he can’t hide. “Is that so?” He turns his sharp attention from Creed to me. There’s so much in that gaze that it feels like my knees might buckle. “What did you have to say about that Marnye?”
“I’d say … if you guys are fucking with me again, I won’t just let you hang yourselves with your own rope; I’ll braid some new shit. Miranda, walk me back to my room?” I glance over and find my bestie gaping at me before she nods abruptly and scurries over to take my arm. Just before we go, I take in the small group with a stern sort of stare, ignoring the fluttering hormones in my heart for the time being. “Friday, after school, my room. We need to have a little chit-chat.”
Dragging Miranda along with me, I head down the hall, and the boys watch me go.
After a minute, Lizzie jogs to catch up with us.
Miranda scowls at her a bit, but she’s never told me if there’s anything more to her dislike of Lizzie than the bet. To be fair, it was an awful, awful thing to do, but I’m not entirely sure that’s it.
“Are you … excited?” Lizzie queries, peering into my face as we walk. “Or angry. I can’t quite tell.”
“No, because you’ve barely spent any time together in person,” Miranda snaps, and I give her a questioning look. “What? She enrolls in Burberry, and suddenly she’s one of your buddies? Have you forgotten what she did to you?” Lizzie cringes beside me, but she doesn’t argue. “I saw you annihilate Zack in front of the entire school. He got kicked off the team. Granted, I don’t think it was enough, but how has she paid for what she did?”
“I …” The anxious little butterflies in my belly take flight and reveal a whole host of raw nerves I didn’t realize I had. “It’s complicated.” I invited her to Hookup Point so she’d see that Tristan was engaged, and then I noticed she was hurting so bad that I crossed her name off the list.
“Well, I’ll tell you what’s not complicated: I don’t trust Lizzie Walton, and I never have, not since we were kids.” Miranda pauses in front of my door—somebody’s already spray-painted The Brothel onto the front of it, how creative—and stamps her shiny black kitten heel on the stone floor like a child. She’s a sweet, genuine sort of person, but sometimes it’s pretty damn obvious how spoiled she is. “Hell, I didn’t trust her when we were in diapers.”
“Miranda,” Lizzie starts, putting her hands up in a placating gesture. “I’m only here to help. I transferred here to help.”
“Yeah, sure.” Miranda spins to me and puts her hands on her hips. “Did she tell how Tristan, Zayd, and Creed used to follow her around like puppies during the summer? But then she got interested in Tristan, and couldn’t bother giving her other friends the time of day. Creed was heartbroken.”
“Miranda, stop,” Lizzie says, curling her hands in her plaid pleated skirt. “That was a long time ago.”
“She dated all three of the Idols—Tristan, Zayd, and my brother for a whole season in the Hamptons.”
“That was years ago!” Lizzie finally snaps, raking her fingers through her dark curls. A weird thought occurs to me, a text from first year that I’d assumed was a typo. If I had any other choice, I’d still be with them. Lizzie had sent that to me. Holy … crap. “I’m engaged to Marcel now.”
“You look like you’d rather choke on that massive rock on your finger than marry Marcel Stone.” Miranda makes a gagging sound and rolls her ice-blue eyes. “Don’t lie and pretend you came here just for Marnye. You’re lonely, and you’re still in love.”
Lizzie flushes pink and starts to stutter. Miranda steps forward and Lizzie takes one back.
“You seem to have outgrown your fascination with Zayd and Creed, but the way you look at Tristan …” Miranda clucks her tongue and turns back to me.