The Envy of Idols (Rich Boys of Burberry Prep #3)(55)
“Free for all the dirty work,” Creed continues, tracing my lower lip with his thumb.
Tristan comes back around to stand beside him, and I realize that I’m shaking slightly. Having the two of them turn their flirtations on me like this makes it feel as if I’m standing under a spotlight. My skin feels tight and achy and hot.
“What are you going to do while we’re busy?” Creed whispers, leaning over so he move his lips against my ear. “Read all of those dirty boys’ love comics you like?”
“Boys’ love comics, huh?” Tristan purrs, and then he laughs, this sumptuous sound that makes me shiver. “You like watching boys kiss?” He glances over as Creed stands back up, reaching out long fingers to touch the smooth, porcelain line of his friend’s jaw. Tristan leans in enticingly, eyes closed, lips brushing up on Creed’s cheek, right at the corner of his mouth. “Oh, delicious.”
“Fuck off,” Creed says, lazily pushing Tristan away as the Burberry royal laughs. The sound is just as cruel as his smile. “Marnye can go read about bad boys teasing their fingers up each other’s shirts.” He slides his palm under my jacket to grip my waist. “Or down each other’s pants …”
“Stop that,” I whisper, grabbing his wrist as he tries to dip his hand down below the waistband of my skirt. Miranda’s words ring in my head like a bell. Virgin, virgin, virgin. Is he really though? “Yes, I get the point. I can’t wander around the empty school by myself when Harper’s ready to slit my throat. I’ll let you lock me in my room while you party tonight.”
“Tonight, we’ve got nothing to do but let you entertain us,” Creed says as he guides me toward the door and Tristan opens it for us. They’re doing an almost disturbingly good job sharing me. It makes me wonder if they’ve ever shared a girl before—other than Lizzie, I mean. Although from what I hear that was pretty platonic.
Lizzie.
She’ll be with Tristan at the parties this week, and I won’t.
My stomach hurts all of a sudden, and I recognize the emotion right away: jealousy.
“Zayd stole the key for the school theater,” Tristan says, tucking his right hand into the front pocket of his blazer, his eyes scanning the hall as we walk. He knows as well as I do that even together, the three of us could be ambushed. “We’ll watch a horror movie, something gruesome and bloody.”
“Tristan loves blood,” Creed says, and I raise an eyebrow as both boys grin.
“How many of the Company are left on campus?” I ask, and Tristan glances back with one dark brow raised.
“The Company?”
I grin a bit sheepishly, and swish the pleats of my skirt.
“That’s what I’ve started calling the ex-Bluebloods. In my head, I was just calling them Harper and Co., and I figured it was easier to think of them as the Company.”
“Zayd’s been calling them the Harpies,” Creed drawls on the tail-end of a yawn. “Seems apropos for the situation, don’t you think?” I grin as we weave our way through the halls of the chapel building, up the stairs, and to the two-story theater that we only get to use to watch boring educational movies.
Zayd, Windsor, Zack … and Lizzie are there when we show up. Myron’s there, too, already seated in one of the luxurious black leather chairs with the automated footrests. Even though he’s weird and dark and kind of a creepy sidekick to Tristan’s elegant villainous charm, I’m glad Myron Talbot is here. If it were just me, the boys, and Lizzie Walton, it might be weird.
“Hey,” she says, giving me a little wave, and a smile. She grabs my arm the way Miranda always does and pulls me down several rows to grab a choice seat. “We decided on Pet Sematary for the movie tonight—the new one, not the old one.”
“I’ve never seen the original,” I admit. I’m a bit of a baby when it comes to horror movies. I’ll probably end up spending half the film with my face buried in someone’s shoulder. Zack sits down on my left, and I feel this little … sparkle inside of me. Sounds lame as hell, I know, but how else could I possibly describe it? He smiles at me, his full lower lip drawing my attention. There’s a little dip in the center that I desperately wish I could run my tongue over. “I hope you’re prepared to see a side of me you never wanted to know,” I warn, giving Zack a fair chance to escape.
“There’s no part of you I wouldn’t want to know,” he says, and the other boys groan.
“Good god, chum, lay off a little, would you? Give the rest of us blokes a chance to schmooze the lady.” Windsor flops into the chair behind me, and wraps his arms around my neck. All the feels, man, all of them. I get all twisted inside, but like, in such a way that I never want to come undone. Does that make sense? I have no idea.
“Just speaking the truth,” Zack says, putting his hands behind his head. He’s switched out of his uniform and into a tight black wifebeater and black board shorts. He must know how beautiful I find his arms, all of those muscles, the hard strength in those biceps.
Zayd sits in front of me, his ashy-lavender hair begging for another touch, and Tristan sits next to Lizzie. Not my favorite thing in the world, but I ignore it. I’m going to play fair here. If something happens between them, then so be it. I’m not going to force feelings, manipulate them, or try to destroy them. What’s the point in that? There’s no fight between me and Lizzie. There’s no fight at all. How we feel is how we feel.