No lies, damn it. Not even to yourself! I repeat, clenching my hands so tight, I make little crescent marks in my palms with my nails.
When Tristan touches me, my heart races. When he looks at me, I feel lightheaded. When he's not being a jerk to me—which is rare—I want to swoon. Do I like him? The king of the school? The ultimate asshole among assholes?
“Shit,” I curse, feeling my face get hot, and Andrew grins.
“I knew it,” he whispers as I cover my face with my hands.
“I like him,” I murmur, feeling this sensation ripple through me as it hits home. “I do.”
Pulling my hands away, I look back up to find Lizzie and Andrew watching me.
“It's fine, really,” Lizzie says with a sad smile. “I won't sabotage you. Like I said, I'm with Marcel …”
“Tristan likes you back,” I blurt, even though I'm kicking myself all the while. No lies. No fucking lies. That is going to be a hard and shitty rule to follow. “I can tell. He's never gotten over you.” Lizzie glances away and shrugs her shoulders loosely.
“Maybe, but … there's no future for us. If you like him, you should go for him.”
“The question is: who do you like best?” Andrew asks me, and I stare at him with this helpless hole opening inside my chest. Who do I like best? I have to choose?
“I have no idea,” I whisper, and then we all pause as Zack comes up to stand with us. He looks between the three of us, Lizzie and me with flushed faces, and then he raises his dark brows.
“Everything okay in here?” he asks, his voice a deep, smooth rumble that vibrates my bones. I love it, and I like him.
“Everything's fine,” I say as I exhale and try to push those feelings aside for now. Harper and Becky have just entered the room and are staring at me. I have more pressing matters to deal with, but I can't help but wonder who would envy me over this.
Having five guys—maybe five, because Windsor is … well, Windsor—interested in me is not a blessing, it's a curse.
How the fuck am I supposed to choose?The next few weeks are packed with assignments, club meetings—why did I join so many clubs?!—orchestra rehearsals, cheerleading, and almost daily struggles between us and the ex-Bluebloods.
The crowd on the yacht was clearly split, but intimidated as hell by the boys.
For now, the Plebs seems content to watch. The only bullying I receive anymore is from the girls and their cronies. Everyone else is too scared to mess with me. Still, it's hard to say what's going to happen if push comes to shove. Will the general population side with us … or them.
“Miranda!” I call out, racing up to her in the hall. It's already October first, and I feel like we need to do some Halloween costume planning. It's going to be hard to beat last year's macaron outfits.
It's not like we haven't been talking, but there's clearly an elephant in the room. That kiss …
She's walking with Creed—we're still sticking to the pairs rule—and I've got Andrew trailing along behind me.
“Hey,” she says with a smile, and I swear, as soon as I step between the twins, I can feel the tension.
“Do you have time for dinner in The Mess?” I ask, and she nods. I give Creed a look, and he returns it with heavy-lidded bedroom eyes. “Do you mind walking Andrew back to the Towers? We'll meet you there later, and you can walk me home.” I grin, and he nods once, briefly, before pulling away.
The two of us head into the dining hall and then pause, looking between the empty Idols' table, and our old spot.
Miranda and I exchange a look.
“We should probably make a stand and claim the table,” she says, and I grin.
“I'd rather sit in our spot, but you're right.” Miranda smiles back at me, and we climb the steps to the dais, sitting down and checking the menus briefly before ordering.
I'm trying to cut down the amount of meat I eat, so I pick one of the vegetarian recipes: cheesy Spanish stuffed rice poblano peppers. Yum.
Miranda unfolds her napkin in her lap, folds it again, unfolds it.
She's fidgeting.
“Can we talk about the kiss?” I ask, and her gaze snaps up and over to me, mouth gaping.
“No!” she whispers, and I laugh. “Why do you want to talk about that?”
“Is that why you broke up with Jessie?” I ask, and she cringes slightly, tucking white-blond hair behind one ear.
“Maybe.”
More silence. Our waiter comes to put our drinks down: iced tea for me and lemonade for Miranda.
I smooth my palms down the plaid pleats of my academy skirt.
“Things don't have to be weird, you know. Zack and Creed have asked me out, and … we're doing okay.” That's not exactly a lie. Things are awkward, but we're managing. I haven't stopped hanging out with them. Actually, I'm hanging out with the guys more than I ever have before, even more than first year when they were trying to woo me with the bet.
