The Envy of Idols (Rich Boys of Burberry Prep #3) - C.M. Stunich Page 0,71
other boys groan.
“Good god, chum, lay off a little, would you? Give the rest of us blokes a chance to schmooze the lady.” Windsor flops into the chair behind me, and wraps his arms around my neck. All the feels, man, all of them. I get all twisted inside, but like, in such a way that I never want to come undone. Does that make sense? I have no idea.
“Just speaking the truth,” Zack says, putting his hands behind his head. He’s switched out of his uniform and into a tight black wifebeater and black board shorts. He must know how beautiful I find his arms, all of those muscles, the hard strength in those biceps.
Zayd sits in front of me, his ashy-lavender hair begging for another touch, and Tristan sits next to Lizzie. Not my favorite thing in the world, but I ignore it. I’m going to play fair here. If something happens between them, then so be it. I’m not going to force feelings, manipulate them, or try to destroy them. What’s the point in that? There’s no fight between me and Lizzie. There’s no fight at all. How we feel is how we feel.
“So, how does this group dating thing work?” Myron asks, his voice dark, his hand buried in a bowl of popcorn. Zayd is fiddling with the remote, and I can smell the faintest hint of butter and salt in the air. A timer goes off somewhere, and Zack makes a sound of pleasure, rising to his feet to go tend to it. I’m praying it’s fresh popcorn.
“Why don’t you mind your own fucking business, and let us worry about that?” Tristan says, leaning back in his chair, and pressing the button for his footrest. It lifts up nice and slow, raising his shiny loafers up to knee-height. He keeps pressing it until his ankles are even higher and he’s lounging back just a bit.
“I’m just trying to understand how the sex works,” Myron continues, and Tristan leans forward, dropping his feet to either side of the leg rest so he can poke his friend in the back of the head.
“Mind your damn business, Talbot. We aren’t sleeping with Marnye—not just yet.” Tristan and I meet eyes across Lizzie’s lap, and a shiver goes through me. I try really hard not to think about the two of them having sex, but … they must have, right? I mean, there’s no way for me to ask, so what’s the point in getting nervous about it?
“Do we have rules about that?” Zack asks, reappearing with the popcorn and handing it over to me. Our fingers brush, and I get that glittery, shiny, sparkly feeling all over again. “I mean, are we trying to take it slow or …”
“We’re all just … dating,” I whisper, feeling my cheeks flush with heat. I reach my right hand up to tousle my hair. Before she left, Miranda gave it a sexy little curl on the top that I wish I knew how to recreate on my own. I even let her do my makeup with that steady hand of hers. No matter how many YouTube videos I watch, I’m just no good at it. “Whatever happens, happens.” I pause as Lizzie looks over at me with her pretty amber eyes. “Or doesn’t happen. Whatever doesn’t happen is fine, too.”
“Soda?” Wind asks on the end of a laugh, a cooler situated in the chair next to him. He hands me an ice-cold Coke, and then gives out beer to everyone else. Sometimes I wonder what it’d be like to get drunk, just once. But then I can’t decide if that’s the addiction in my DNA talking, or natural curiosity.
“Alright,” Zayd says as he finally gets the movie started up and cranks the volume. “Let’s see what sort of scaredy-cat Marnye really is.” He turns around, and I catch a glimpse of that Never Again tattoo on his neck. I want to ask what it means, if it’s in reference to me or not. Or perhaps I’m just being narcissistic? “And Charity,” he sits up in his seat so that he’s kneeling, leans forward, and presses a kiss to one of my knees. Heat rockets through me, and I feel a bead of sweat run down the side of my face. “If you get scared, just come sit on my lap, okay?”
I chuck a piece of popcorn at him, and he catches it in his mouth.