Bad, Bad Bluebloods (Rich Boys of Burberry Prep #2)(62)
“There’s a right way?” I ask, and he groans, putting his face into his hands. He’s like a caricature of a prince, all over-the-top, sweeping bows, speaking in French. It’s almost too much. And yet, I kinda like it anyway. “Well, excuse me. I grew up in an abandoned Train Car on instant ramen noodles and pb&j sandwiches. My mom abandoned me and my dad when I was a kid, and we did the best we could.” Windsor slowly parts his hands to peer out at me, and I realize I’ve just done it again: showed him all my damn cards.
Crap.
“Welllllll,” he drawls, dragging out the L in that word far past it’s usual point, “even if you’ve committed an atrocity against crown and kingdom with your god-awful tea, you seem to have turned out alright. Most people suck on the dick of money like it’ll come cash in their mouths and make them rich. You seem … beyond despondent, more disgusted. I quite enjoy that.”
“The dick of money?” I ask as the kettle starts to steam and Windsor pulls it off the stove with a pot holder I never use. He looks through my cabinets and finds the loose leaf English breakfast tea that Dad gave me for Christmas. It even came with a metal strainer and a special mug that I haven’t used yet. I watch as Windsor prepares a cup for me. “That’s … a very creative metaphor.”
“Simile: I used the word like.” He grins and waves his hand dismissively. He’s not quite as tall as Zack, but he’s well-built, and he’s got an air of confidence that’s infectious. His hair is almost crimson, but I’m pretty sure it’s natural, and there’s a curve to his upper lip that draws my attention. “Marnye Reed, will you please do me the honor of escorting me to tonight’s party?” He holds up his palms toward me. “Not as a date: you were very clear about your ideas on dating. Besides, I’ve already found three or four girls that I fancy. I was just hoping we could go as friends.” He hands me the mug and our fingers tangle together. My breath catches, but Windsor doesn’t seem to notice, not the way Zayd or Creed or Zack would. Tristan just … screw Tristan.
“Yeah, sure, why not?” I reply, taking a sip of the tea. My brows go up and Windsor chuckles, pressing a kiss to my cheek. I tell myself it’s just a European thing, but the place his lips touched tingles like crazy.
“See you at five, love.” And then he disappears, letting my door swing shut behind him.
Zack is not pleased to see Windsor in my room when he shows up later, a cluster of wild winter flowers in his hand. When he gives them to me, I flush a dark red color and stumble three times trying to say the word thanks.
“Are you two an item?” Windsor asks, now dressed in a loose, silky cream shirt that’s unbuttoned nearly to his navel. He tucks his fingers in the front pockets of his black slacks and looks between me and Zack with narrowed eyes. “You sure you’re a virgin? I could swear the two of you have shagged.”
“Yeah, well, maybe your intuition isn’t as amazing as you claim,” I retort, but now that Windsor’s brought up sex and Zack in the same conversation I can’t stop thinking about our make-out session. Gah. I was not supposed to fall for my tormentor. There’s nothing cool or feminist or progressive about that. If I think too hard about it, it makes me feel sick.
And yet … Zack’s been nothing but nice to me. People can make mistakes, as long as they acknowledge them and learn from their experiences, right? Right? I so want Zack Brooks to be redeemable.
We head out the east door of the chapel, meet up with Miranda, Jessie, and Andrew then start off toward the lake. About halfway there, we find the bonfire, the beer, and the fighting.
Oh, that’s right.
I’d almost forgotten about that email I sent last night. Or all the changes I made to my list.
Revenge On The Bluebloods of Burberry Prep
A list by Miranda Cabot Marnye Reed
The Idols (guys): Tristan Vanderbilt (year one two), Zayd Kaiser (year one two), and Creed Cabot (year one two)
The Idols (girls): Harper du Pont (year one two), Becky Platter (year one two), and Gena Whitley (year four) (graduated), Ileana Taittinger (year one)
The Inner Circle: Andrew Payson, Anna Kirkpatrick, Myron Talbot, Ebony Peterson, Gregory Van Horn, Abigail Fanning, John Hannibal, Valentina Pitt, Sai Patel, Mayleen Zhang, Jalen Donner … and, I guess, me! Kiara Xiao, Ben Thresher
Plebs: everyone else, sorry. XOXO
Zack Brooks
Lizzie Walton
Sai Patel is doing it with Abigail Fanning, who’s supposed to be dating Gregory Van Horn; I emailed proof to the entire Blueblood court. And because I hate Greg so much, I’ve doubled up and sent Andrew’s bullying video to Creed. I’ve already crossed his and John’s names off because, well, they’re not going to last the night.
They’ve almost made it too easy for me.
“And here I was expecting tonight to be boring,” Windsor declares, his grin so bright that he stands out like a white splotch in the darkness. The bonfire is roaring, and there are people drinking and dancing, but the majority of the attention falls on Greg, Sai, and Abigail. There’s a lot of crying, begging, pleading, and so on and so forth. It’s actually pretty boring, after what happened with Jalen, Ebony, and Tristan. Been there, seen this. Besides, once a cheater, always a cheater. Frankly, I’m shocked that Greg took Abigail back after Tristan outed her for sleeping with him last year.