Page 106 of The Envy Of Idols (Rich Boys of Burberry Prep 3)
“Of course he’s furious.” Tristan scowls, and slides his hand over his sweaty face. “I’m not just a bastard anymore; I’m an embarrassment.”
Lizzie pulls the door closed and then leans her back against it, locking eyes with Tristan.
Even though I have four other boyfriends downstairs, even though sometime in the future I’ll have to choose, I don’t want to lose Tristan now.
“What?” he asks her, his body stuff, muscles taut with stress.
Lizzie closes her eyes, and then carefully twists off her engagement ring. She opens them again and her irises are painted with the brilliant colors of emotion: love, and want, and desperate need.
“I don’t know what’ll happen if I tell my parents no,” Lizzie says, staring down at the ring. “I think they love me enough to get over it, but … I can’t do it. I can’t marry Marcel.”
Rising to my feet, I slide my palms down the front of my cream-colored dress to get out the wrinkles. No point though. Lizzie isn’t looking at me; the only person in this house that exists for her right now, the only person that matters, is Tristan. Amber eyes bright with determination, Lizzie takes a small step forward.
“Why are you telling me this?” Tristan asks, standing up and grabbing his shirt. He puts it on and then looks at her with an expression that’s equal parts frustration and confusion. “My dad’s on the warpath. He doesn’t like you, and he doesn’t like Marnye, and he doesn’t want the entire board of directors for the Infinity Club waltzing into our house to pass judgment.”
“I don’t care about the Infinity Club right now,” Lizzie blurts, and my heart begins to thunder in my chest, echoing the throbbing pulse point I can see beating in her throat. She moves toward Tristan again, but he doesn’t return the favor. “All I care about is you, Tristan. I love you.”
There’s nothing but pure, unadulterated truth in her words. It’s no surprise to me though: I’ve expected as much since I first laid eyes on her.
The logical thing to do would be to let Tristan go, push him and Lizzie together, and focus on the four other guys that are waiting downstairs for me. The thing is, the heart doesn’t use logic to make its decision. Even now, I’m dreading that future moment where I’ll have to pick a boy, where I’ll have to choose.
If Lizzie and Tristan are meant to be together, it’ll happen. I won’t do anything for or against it.
I bite my lower lip.
Lizzie’s a good friend, but Tristan … he makes my blood sing.
“I—” They both look at me as that one, single word escapes my lips. The thing is, once I stop talking, I can’t figure out what I was meant to say in the first place.
Fortunately, Windsor is there to save my ass yet again. He waltzes in the door, the very picture of nonchalance, all dressed up nice and neat in his third year uniform. It’s obvious he couldn’t care less about the upcoming Infinity Club meeting.
“William Vanderbilt’s a clever man, isn’t he?” he says, giving me a small, little smile.
“How so?” Tristan asks, sighing, and ignoring Lizzie’s entire confession. “What has he done now?”
“He’s found someone to pay his Infinity Club dues.” Windsor watches Tristan’s face as he clenches his jaw. “Not yours though. Just his. He’s already started the rumor that he’s disowning you.”
Tristan pretends not to care, but there’s the slightest hint of his eyes widening.
“I see.” He keeps his voice calm, but there’s obvious pain resting behind his words. All I want to do is comfort him, but Lizzie beats me to it, reaching out for him. Tristan pulls away, and her face flashes with hurt.
“I’ve paid it for you,” Windsor tells him, and this time, I think we’re all surprised. Tristan stares at the prince with wide, gray eyes, but Wind simply tucks his hands into his pockets and grins. “Whatever my princess wants, she gets. And she doesn’t want you homeless and kicked out of Burberry Prep.” Windsor steps forward and smooths some wrinkles from Tristan’s shirt with his palms. “He pulled your tuition, too. But you already knew that, right?”
I gape at that news, glancing over at Tristan. He, on the other hand, doesn’t seem surprised by that at all.
“You knew you weren’t coming back to Burberry next year, didn’t you?” I ask, but Tristan simply stares at Windsor, waiting for more. With the prince, there’s always more.
“I’ve paid that, too. So … I guess Marnye isn’t the only charity case at the academy, now is she?” Wind grins, and there’s a terrifying edge to it, like he’s enjoying this moment for all the wrong reasons. Still, he did it for me. I won’t forget that. “You can thank me later. For now, we have a Club meeting to attend.”
