The Envy of Idols (Rich Boys of Burberry Prep #3)(22)

“You’ve never been bowling before?” I choke out, and then I find myself smiling again. “Well, there’s a first time for everything, right? You’ll get better at it.” Tristan stares at me like I’m insane, and then steps back so Lizzie can take her turn.

Her engagement ring sparkles as she picks up a gold colored ball.

“You’ve never let loose enough to try something like bowling,” she says, stepping forward, and prepping for her throw. She gives a slight smile before exhaling, focusing those amber eyes on the pins, and then releasing the ball like a pro. “Strike!” Lizzie squeals and bounces up and down, throwing her arms around Tristan’s neck.

He looks like he’s just been gut-punched.

I feel like I’ve just been gut-punched.

Lizzie pulls back, blushing, and then pushes some dark curls away from her face. She glances my way, but I pretend not to notice. Inside, my stomach is all twisted up with angst.

“Letting loose isn’t in my vocabulary,” Tristan says finally, and I cringe slightly.

Having sex in a public bathroom sure seemed like letting loose, I think sourly, not sure why I’m suddenly so worked up about it. Or in a janitor’s closet on the first day of school. My attention drifts slightly to Lizzie as Zayd makes his way up to the lane. Did she and Tristan ever … and if they did, do I really want to know?

Her amber eyes meet mine, and I flush.

“Ah, fuck a bunch of hairy goat balls,” Zayd groans as his ball bounces into the next lane. He slides his palms over his face while I laugh, smearing his eyeliner just enough that it gives him that sexy rocker look. “This game is harder than it looks.”

“That’s an interesting curse,” I say with a small laugh, covering my mouth and trying to ignore the anxiety that the Lizzie/Tristan thing gives me. She’s retreated back to the bench to sit next to Zack, but the King of Burberry Prep is still staring at me with those unnerving gray eyes of his. They’re the color of gravestones, aged and worn beyond his seventeen years, and full of so much more emotion than the stone they’re made of it.

“Yeah, well, I’m an artist,” Zayd purrs, and there’s just something about the way he talks that tells the whole world that he can sing. One day, I’d like to see him live. I bet he’s a real treat to watch. For a split-second there, I feel a sting of guilt over what I did. But then I remember the trophy, and how I wore his red dress, and then …

I exhale and shake out my hands.

I’m working on forgiveness here, not grudges. What’s the point of holding one? Take the actions you need to take, and move on. These blue-blooded Idols needed to learn a lesson; I taught it to them. Now, I let it go.

The girls, on the other hand, are a whole different story.

School starts in just a few days; I have to be ready.

“Okay, sir artiste,” I joke, hefting my own ball from the track and licking my lower lip, “watch and learn how a pro does it.”

“You’re so going to regret that,” Zayd chuckles, folding his arms over his chest. When I throw a glare back his way, he lifts one tattooed hand and waves it lazily at me. “Go on, Miss Bowling Expert Extraordinaire, and let’s see these pro moves.”

I scoff and turn back to the lane, doing this dramatic little run thing before I chuck the ball and watch as it warbles, twists, and then knocks over one single stupid pin before disappearing.

“Honey soaked beeswax balls,” I curse, and Zayd howls with laughter. Damn, I missed that laugh. He’s laughing so hard he’s bent over at the waist.

“Beeswax balls?! That’s your idea of cursing?!”

“Hey, it’s better than hairy goat balls,” I grumble, collecting my ball, and pausing as Zack steps up beside me. He raises his dark brows.

“Want some pointers?” he asks, and my heart starts to beat like crazy. I nod, and he comes up behind me, putting his big hands on my hips and making me shiver. He guides me to a specific spot, and then shows me how to hold the ball, where to place my fingers. “Since you’re the birthday girl, I’ll help you throw this first time. After that, you’re on your own.” He stands behind me, sliding his fingers along my right arm before leaning over my shoulder to brush a light kiss to my right cheek.

I almost melt right there in front of everyone.

Instead, I exhale and shudder as Zack helps me throw the ball in just such a way that I actually pick up a spare.

“Holy crap,” I blurt, grinning as I spin around and find him still standing way too close to me. We look at each other a moment before I duck past him and take up a spot on the bench between Miranda and Andrew. Seems like the safest spot in the room, to be quite honest.

We finish our game, and Zack just narrowly beats Windsor.

It’s all fun and games until the prince loses, and I see his jaw clench. There’s a flash of darkness in his gaze that I recognize from when he tried to get me to plant drugs on Tristan, or when he was talking to me during Ben Thresher’s arrest. He notices me watching, and instead of denying it, he walks right up to me and leans in to whisper in my ear.

“I told you I was a bloody, awful wanker,” he whispers, and then he nibbles my earlobe. I’m so startled that I jump, and fling my hand up to cover my ear. I end up smacking him in the face, and he groans, covering up his mouth, shoulders shaking with laughter. When he moves his hands, there’s a bit of blood. “I think I just cut my lip on my tooth.”