Bad, Bad Bluebloods (Rich Boys of Burberry Prep #2)(80)

You’re right. This is your game, not mine. I’m not used to that.

He waits a few minutes as I sit naked in the bath and stare at my phone, and then he starts typing again. I’ll probably end up dropping my phone in the water at one point, and then we’ll truly find out if it’s waterproof or not. My skin is all wrinkly, and prune-y but I’m not ready to get out yet.

What I’m trying to say, milady, is that I’m sorry.

I read Wind’s next text with a sigh and then message him back: You’re forgiven. Just don’t do it again.

I’m about to set my phone aside when another text comes in, but this time, it’s not from Windsor. No, this time it’s from Zayd.

Spring break on tour with Dad blows. XXX

Butterflies take over my stomach, and I have to resist the urge to squeal. No way. I’m not actually that excited, it’s just … the bet and everything. Now that the last days of March are wasting away, I’ve realized that I only really have April and May to get the guys to fall in love with me.

Two months is not a lot of time, and June hardly counts since our last day—and the day of the graduation gala—is the fourteenth.

Nothing happening here either. Any cute groupies at the concerts?

I have no idea why I asked that, and I cringe right after hitting send. Zayd starts typing and I get back several laughing emojis that remind me of his howling laughter.

They’re all like in their fifties, he replies, and then, It’s torture. Dad’s music sucks, too.

I laugh, and sink a little lower in the bubbles. We keep texting, and by the time I realize how long I’ve been in the bath, the water’s cold and Dad’s home from work. I send Zayd one last message and climb out, toweling off and slipping into jeans and a t-shirt.

Anyway, with Zack gone to visit his grandfather, I’m all alone in Cruz Bay with no one to hang out with. I’m not sure if that’s a blessing or a curse. I’m enjoying my time relaxing and hanging out with Dad, but I’m pretty sure he’s been sneaking out at night to see Jennifer. We haven’t talked about it, but I’m just so glad his tests have been coming back with optimistic results, I don’t press the matter.

Not until dinner that evening.

“Jennifer would like to extend an invitation for you to spend the summer with her,” Dad says over the drawl of country music. We’re sitting at a steakhouse that I paid for with that bet money of mine. I told Dad the truth: I won money playing poker. He didn’t ask how much which is good because I refuse to lie, but I’m also reticent to let him know. If he finds out I’m mixed up in the weirdness of the Infinity Club, he’d probably pull me from Burberry Prep kicking and screaming.

“You’re still seeing her?” I ask, picking at my baked potato with my fork. Dad sighs and sips his beer, taking his time before answering me.

“Not that it’s your business,” he eyes me with a critical gaze, “but yes.”

“But she’s not going to leave her husband for you?” Dad says nothing. “And it doesn’t bother you that you’re complicit in her cheating?” This time, he gets mad and puts down his fork. He looks at me with this deep-set frown in his face that I don’t like. Charlie never frowns at me like that; I blame Jennifer. “She abandoned us, and she left me at a rest stop because I was inconvenient. Dad, this sucks.”

“Marnye, that’s enough.”

My lips purse and I set my fork down, leaning back in my chair with my arms crossed over my chest.

“I’d like to never see her again, to be honest with you. I’ll be declining her summer invitation. Unless her invitation means I’d get to meet my sister, then I’ll consider it.” The way Dad’s looking at me, I’m guessing not. “Then the answer is no. The woman’s a coward who’s denied me a relationship with the only sibling I’ll ever have.”

Charlie grimaces.

“Fine then, Marnye, don’t go. But I’m a grown man, and if I want to have a relationship with your mother—”

“Jennifer,” I correct, and he sighs.

“—Jennifer, then I will. And you don’t have to like it, but you can at least be respectful of it.”

Neither of us talks for the rest of the meal, and when I get home, I lock myself in my room and play my harp until the sun comes up.

Screw Jennifer.

She didn’t want to be my mom when I needed her, so I’m not interested in having her around now.

There’s so much tension in the house after that, I’m almost relieved when Andrew picks me up in his limo, and we head back to Burberry Prep.



I hit the ground running when I get back, diving into my studies and making sure my grades stay sharp. I also put extra effort into spending every spare moment with one of the Idol guys. Tristan … is complicated. We had a great time in Paris, and I felt like we were actually making progress, but now that we’re back on campus, he’s being standoffish and weird.

Creed and Zayd are much easier to come by, and even though I think they’re a tad shocked to see me open and forgiving, they start to grudgingly seek my company out, too. At the end of the week when I text Lizzie and tell her about Tristan, she’s strangely quiet. She gives me a few short, clipped replies, but that’s about it. Her feelings for him seem to be as strong as ever, and for some reason, that bothers me. I don’t know why, but it does, and I don’t like it.