The Envy of Idols (Rich Boys of Burberry Prep #3)(21)
“This is the part where you say happy birthday,” I whisper, and something in that hard expression of his softens slightly.
“Happy birthday. I know what it’s like to have a shitty parent; don’t let them rain on your parade.”
“Excuse you, young man,” Jennifer says, but I’m smiling and ignoring her. I can hear Charlie mumble as he drags her away toward the dining area.
Tristan reaches into his pocket, and comes out with that damn necklace again. That same fucking necklace. He lifts it up in question, and I turn, letting him hook it around my neck. As he leans in, his lips brush my ear, and I shiver.
“I meant what I said when I went through those cards: yours was the only one I didn’t hate.” He hooks the clasp, and lets go, stepping back as I reach up to play with the double roses. The journey of this necklace reminds me of my relationship with Tristan, this strange back and forth that makes my mouth dry, my chest ache. When I look at him, I yearn.
Yearn.
I just said yearn.
Before I can think too hard about that, I turn to Zayd, ignoring Lizzie’s amber gaze on me. Part of me wonders if I should give the necklace back yet again, surrender Tristan to Lizzie’s embrace. She really seems interested in him …
“Did I fool you, by giving you the earrings early?” Zayd asks, grinning at me as he twists his now bright orange hair into little gelled spikes. The color is so vibrant and crazy, but it suits him. Hell, I’m not sure there’s a color in the world that wouldn’t suit him.
“Oh, I was so fooled,” I say, giving him a hug, too. The way he makes me feel, the way they all make me feel … Third year at Burberry Prep is going to be a hormonal mess. I just know it. Zayd holds me for a long time, longer than most friends would, and Miranda clears her throat rudely next to us.
We separate, and my eyes lock immediately with Creed’s icy blue ones.
“Marnye.” He both looks and sounds a little … pissed off. “Happy seventeenth.”
“I started to think about you … as mine.”
I wet my suddenly dry lips and try to decide if a hug is in order. I didn’t hug Tristan, but I hugged everybody else. Creed and I just stare at each other. Finally, because I just can’t take the freaking tension, I throw my arms around him and give a big squeeze. I let go before he gets a chance to return the gesture, and find that his normally droopy bedroom eyes have widened to blue saucers.
“Let’s start the fun and games!” I choke out, far too cheerfully to be believed by anyone, and then nearly break my ankle on my way down the steps. Zack steadies me with a big, warm hand on my shoulder, and we all fan out on the bench seat while Miranda and Andrew plug in everyone’s name. One of the employees comes over to take our drink orders, and I end up with a chocolate milkshake covered in rainbow sprinkles and way too many maraschino cherries.
There’s a bit of awkwardness as we all settle in together. We’re not exactly the best of friends, and this is a major adjustment.
I’m essentially hanging out with four of my bullies. Five, if you count Lizzie for making that bet.
“Why don’t you guys make an Infinity Club bet over bowling?” I joke, and I swear, everyone’s head whips right over to me. “Not an appropriate joke, huh?” I chuckle, but I’m the only one. “I could tell you about the history of this building? How it was built in 1892 as a brothel, funded by a rich railroad baron because he thought if the miners coming in for the gold rush had female company, they’d be less violent …”
“You can make jokes about the Infinity Club if you want,” Zack says fiercely, watching as I sip my milkshake from the red and white striped straw. “You were hurt by it the most. And I already told you: it’s sexy as hell when you talk historical facts.” He grins at me, and then whips his varsity jacket off his broad shoulders, settling the skin-warmed fabric over mine.
My heart twists into a knot, and then dies from all the feels.
My cheeks flush red as I reach up to pinch the coat closed around me, feeling like a teen from the fifties or something, drinking a milkshake from the soda fountain and wearing her boyfriend’s varsity jacket in the bowling alley.
Not that Zack’s my boyfriend or anything.
I mean, he hasn’t asked.
And even if he did, I don’t know if I’d say yes.
Shit, it smells like him, too, I think, doing my best to hold back a groan. Last time I wore his hoodie, I almost died from the scent. Sporty, but earthy, too, like musk and cedar.
“Okay, lover boy,” Windsor says as he herds Zack toward the rack of bowling balls behind us. “Pick one and let’s get this game going. I quite enjoy kicking ass, even when there aren’t any stakes involved.” He grins, and I think about what he did to Ben. I mean, Ben deserved it, but still. I don’t think Windsor’s joking right now.
The game starts off with a bang, and I’m surprised to see that both Zack and Windsor are damn good bowlers. Fortunately, everyone else is mediocre … and Tristan sucks. Like, he’s by far the worst.
“Something you’re not good at?” I ask with surprise as he gets another gutter ball and narrows those beautiful gray eyes of his on the lane. He glances over at me, but I’m grinning. “That’s a shocker.”
“I’ve never bowled before,” he says, and the grin falls right off my face. Now I’m just gaping at him.