The Envy of Idols (Rich Boys of Burberry Prep #3) - C.M. Stunich Page 0,77
occurs to me that I never really had friends before, so the only pajama parties I’ve actually attended are between me and Miranda.
“Yep, pretty much?” I squeak, and Zayd blinks at me.
“Truth or dare, Charity,” he whispers, and his voice is raw and open, like he’s just cracked a stone and shown me the most beautiful geode on the inside.
“Truth.”
Because I don’t think I can move from this spot, much less do something embarrassing like touch myself in front of everyone.
“Which one of us do you like best?” Zayd asks, and my heart stutters a few times before it picks back up at a galloping pace.
“I don’t know.”
And there’s no answer truer than that.
It actually snows at Burberry Prep this year which is weird as hell. We’re in central California, for heaven’s sake.
“Global warming,” Miranda says, as she stands there with her palms lifted toward the sky, tiny flakes melting on her palms. Tonight’s the talent show, but nobody really cares anymore, since all anyone wants to do is play in the snow or—depending on their year in school—talk about the winter formal, the ski trip, or, for us third years, the option of a weekend trip to San Francisco to see the ballet and the symphony.
It’s not hard to figure out what I want to do. Even though Dad and I have used those tickets Zack bought us a couple of times already, I can never get enough. We even used the third pass to take our old neighbor, Mrs. Fleming. She might be deaf, but she said she could feel the vibrations and enjoyed the show anyway.
“You know what John said to me today?” Andrew says, tucking his hands into his pockets and shivering as white fluff settles across the gardens. It’s not thick or heavy enough of a snowfall to be much fun as of yet, but it’s getting there. Every student at Burberry Prep is praying it gets deep enough to go sledding.
“If global warming is real, why is it so cold out?” Miranda mimics as she rolls her eyes dramatically. “We all heard him today. At least he got in-school suspension from Ms. Felton for snapping that poor first-year girl’s bra. He’s such an asshole.”
“Did you all decide on what you’re doing for winter activities?” I ask, interrupting the conversation. The last person in the world I want to talk about is John Hannibal. He’s a piece of shit human, and his dad’s politics suck, so there. “Because you know I’m going to the orchestra, right?”
“Wherever you go, the boys will follow,” Andrew says, almost longingly. He leans back on the picnic table and stares up at the swirling flakes, a white beanie pulled down over his ears. “I’m beyond jealous. I wish boys followed me around like lost puppies.”
“They would if you’d just let your freak flag fly,” Miranda chides, pausing as Lizzie and Tristan appear, coming out the doors of the chapel building. Ugh. My heart pounds when I see them together, but I ignore it. Like I said, I have to let the pieces fall as they may. I’m not into sabotage.
On Thanksgiving Day, we all ate in The Mess together, and the academy kitchen team prepared a pretty traditional meal. Lizzie sat next to Tristan then, too, and it occurred to me that she really is seeking him out. She’s making an effort. And yet, she’s still wearing her engagement ring. She’s as torn as Andrew is, between reality and a distant dream.
I’m a bit of a plucky optimist: I always choose the dream.
“Tristan, are you going on the San Francisco trip or …” I start, trailing off and huddling deeper into one of Zack’s hoodies. He left it in my room on accident, and well, it’s big and soft, and I love the smell too much to give it back. Grapefruit and nutmeg, that’s what it reminds me of.
“San Francisco trip,” he says, and Lizzie bites her lip.
“I’m going to the winter formal,” she says with a small sigh. “My dad arranged for a visitor’s pass, so Marcel could take me.” She doesn’t sound particularly happy about that, and I notice Tristan’s shoulders get tense.
He moves past her and out from under the awning, so he can glance up at the dusky sky, and the swirling snow.
Zack comes out a moment later, spots me in his hoodie, and grins as he pops over to sit beside me. Even with the stolen hoodie, I’m still freezing, so I burrow into him