The Envy of Idols (Rich Boys of Burberry Prep #3)(32)
“They aren’t the only bullies,” Miranda mumbles, but I forge on. Basically everyone in this room has been a bully at some point. Well, it’s not going to happen anymore, not on my watch.
Zack already knows about my revenge plans, and my rules, so he quickly passes the notebook to Miranda who glances briefly at it, and then hands it over to Creed. His lazy gaze sharpens up quickly as he scans the pages.
“What are you proposing?” Tristan asks, brow crinkling slightly as Windsor passes out teacups to Lizzie, Andrew, and then him, using the teapot to fill each one. He then offers up cream and sugar before moving onto Myron and Zack.
“If we’re going to do this, we’re going to make peace with each other. We’re going to at least try to be friends, and we’re going to follow my rules.” I pinch the notebook from Creed’s hands and start with rule number one, my eyes scanning the group one more time before I decide to add: “and no more lies. None. Lies are poison, and even if you think you’re protecting someone with one, you’re not. In the end, it always hurts worse when the truth comes out.”
Nobody says a damn word, but that’s okay, I’m ready.
“So, last year when I decided to take my revenge on you, I made a list …”
Harper's party is being held on a yacht, much like Tristan's party during first year when they burned that beautiful, beautiful book. I try not to think too hard about that incident because, come on, burning a handwritten J.K. Rowling masterpiece is pretty much unforgivable.
“I can't believe you're so organized that you even organize your vengeance,” Zayd murmurs as we move down the beach as a unit. Tristan is in front, but I'm right behind him. I think, if he were to relax just a little bit, I'd be in front and he'd be able to decompress a bit. Pretty sure he'd enjoy it, too, dropping that heavy mantle he carries, even if only briefly.
“Are you angry?” I ask, because after the notebook had been passed around, and I'd given my speech, the room went silent. We didn’t talk much after that, pretty sure the boys are still processing what they read in my notebook. It wasn't just the list or the rules, it was the other things, my observations of their weaknesses, my own recollections of past events. There were real, true entries in there with my thoughts and feelings and heartache.
“Fuck no.” Zayd snorts, raking his fingers through his pumpkin-orange hair. I miss the sea green. Every time he changes it, I get nostalgic. But at least I know I won't have to wait long until the next color shift. He glances over at me with those big emerald eyes of his. Have I ever noticed how long and dark his lashes are? He's wearing eyeliner, but no mascara or anything. They're just that pretty, I guess. “I mean, I wish you'd taken revenge on me in some way other than getting me unsigned from my label, but I'll survive.” Zayd grins to soften his words, and I smile tightly.
“That song …” I start, and Zayd grimaces. He knows exactly what song I'm talking about, the one that he ridiculed as garbage to his friends, the one I know was not put together by a ghostwriter. Zayd might be an asshole, but he's got creative integrity. “You wrote it.”
He doesn't argue, just purses his lips and glances up at the moon. The way the silver light makes his tattoos shimmer is priceless. He spins his right lip ring around with his tongue.
“Maybe.”
“It was beautiful,” I start, but Zayd doesn't look like he believes me.
“Do you really think getting on a boat with Harper and her friends is a smart idea?” Creed snaps, interrupting our conversation. He’s clearly the most irritated at the list of weaknesses. The way he glares at me through his narrowed lids makes that blatantly obvious. “That didn't exactly go over so well last time.”
“Not everyone on that boat is her friend,” Tristan quips, moving up the dock without hesitation. There are two Pleb boys on the door, but they stand aside as Tristan sweeps past. When they see me, they exchange a look, but I've got Zayd on one side, and Creed directly behind me.
We head in without incident, the rest of our crew close behind.
Tonight, we're just testing the waters, seeing how the other students react. Never underestimate the power of mob rule.
“What the fuck are you doing on my boat?” Harper snaps, moving in to intercept Tristan. “You're not invited.”
Tristan looks around, snaps his fingers, and then points right at Harper's chest.
“I see bets being made which makes this an Infinity Club party. You do not have the authority to keep me from a Club gathering.” He smiles at her, and I get that shivery feeling across my skin. A spider spinning his web. “So get the hell out of my way.” He shoves past her with his elbow, and we follow along behind him, Harper’s blue eyes tracking the movement of our group.
We take the stairs and find the top deck, surrounding one of the drink tables and claiming it while we gather refreshments.
I stick with soda.
Not only is my dad a recovering alcoholic, but I feel like I need my wits about me. Greg and John are at the opposite end of the deck, watching us. My throat closes up, and I squeeze my hands into fists by my sides.
Windsor notices me watching, his eyes following the path of my gaze.
“They can both swim, can't they?” he asks casually, directing his attention to Zack. My big burly football player friend looks back at the prince, and nods slightly.