Zack shoves him to the floor, and watches the drama unfold with impassive distaste.
Tristan moves up to Abi, cupping the side of her face in his hand. Her angry expression softens, and her eyes go half-lidded. When he leans in close to whisper to her, her cheeks redden with pleasure. But as he continues talking, her eyes begin to widen and her mouth turns down in a terrified frown. Tristan pulls back and runs his thumb over her lower lip.
“When I said that Charity was off-limits, I meant it.” He releases her, and Abigail spins away, taking off across the casino with Valentina chasing after her. John helps Gregory to his feet, holding him back when Greg tries to rush Tristan again.
“You son of a bitch!” he snarls, tearing from John’s grip as Zayd howls with laughter. Creed watches the entire thing like one might watch raindrops fall outside a foggy window. He’s bored, couldn’t care less. This time, I’m pretty sure he’s not pretending. He truly just doesn’t care about Abigail and Greg. “I’m going to—”
“Going to what, Gregory?” Tristan asks, smiling at him. He’s so wicked, spinning his little webs. I wonder how he ever managed to snag a girl like Lizzie Walton. Her demeanor is essentially the opposite of his. “Defy me? Start a social war? Go ahead. We both know who’ll win.” Tristan puts his hand on Greg’s shoulder, and he shoves him off. The move doesn’t seem to bother Tristan; he just smiles wider. “You have two choices: fall in line and go find your philandering girlfriend, or declare war on me. Go ahead, I’m waiting.”
Gregory stares at Tristan for so long that I actually wonder if he’s going to do it, throw a bomb in the social scene of Burberry Prep Academy. If he hadn’t treated me so horribly before, I might feel sorry for him. Tristan’s a formidable opponent. My skin prickles, and a sheet of ice settles over my soul. Holy shit. I don’t think I’d quite grasped the kind of man I was up against.
“Fucking asshole,” Greg groans, sounding like he’s on the verge of tears. He shoves John away when he steps forward to help, and then stalks off through the gathered crowd. Nobody says a word, and soon the laughing and the drinking and the gambling starts up again.
Tristan sits back down at the table like he’s just popped over to the bathroom for a moment and come back.
“Shall we start another round?” he asks as Andrew rises to his feet.
“I’m going to take off. Marnye, I’m free tomorrow if you want to have lunch?” I nod and he smiles, a genuine sort of expression that’s almost jarring after looking at Tristan for so long. “I’ll text you.” He reaches out like he’s going to touch my arm and stops short when he sees Zayd staring at him.
After he leaves, I take my seat again.
“You hanging around, too, asshole?” Zayd asks, grinning. He just eats up the drama with a spoon. “Because if you’re panting around Charity here looking for an easy fuck, you’ll be sorely disappointed. I already asked this morning, and it was a no-go.”
“You’re beyond rude,” I grumble, watching and waiting to see what Zack’s going to do. He doesn’t say anything, just sits back down and levels his dark eyes on Zayd.
“I don’t play by your rules, Kaiser. Remember that.” He nods his chin at Tristan. “Deal the cards, and let’s go. I’m playing for Marnye again.”
“Same stakes?” Creed asks, turning his eyes to me. “Only … I want to add in a caveat that Charity won’t tell Miranda a damn thing. Seems fair to me, considering what’s on the table.”
“Agreed. If Working Girl’s going for such a huge pot, then I want something better than a borrowed car.” Zayd pauses and taps his tattooed fingers on the table. “I want a kiss. A real one. Tongue and all.” He smirks at me, and I glower back at him. “What? I’m not asking for much. It’s just a kiss.”
“Fine.” I don’t intend to lose, so I don’t care. “Deal the cards.”
He pauses as Lizzie strides up to the table, the tall guy from last night trailing behind her.
“Hey Marnye,” she says, her dark hair twisted up into a fancy knot on the back of her head, makeup dark but appropriate for the evening. She’s wearing a lavender dress that’s the perfect compliment to her amber eyes. “Zack, thanks for letting me stay in your room last night.” Zack nods, but nothing more passes between them, so I figure it was a pretty tame night. A coolness settles inside of me, and I realize that I was actually nervous, jealous maybe.
Over Zack? Seriously?
“Nice to see you, too, Lizzie,” Tristan quips, practically tossing the cards out. “Thanks for the greeting.”
“I was getting there,” she says, looking taken aback. There’s something more between them than a simple friendship and an amicable breakup. I’m pretty sure Tristan’s still into her. Lizzie steps back and hooks her arm through her friend’s. “This is Marcel Stone, my date for the evening.” She touches the back of his hand, but I notice Marcel is more interested in smirking at Tristan than paying attention to his date.
Lizzie adjusts her hand and the lights catch on a ring on her finger.
Tristan notices it right away, and goes completely stiff.
“Did she mention we just got engaged?” Marcel asks, his brown eyes locked on Tristan’s gray ones. I remember Andrew saying a lot of the students at Burberry Prep were engaged, but to hear Miranda tell it, these are more like tentative business arrangements. Students still do what—and whom—they want.
“We’re sort of testing the waters,” Lizzie adds as Tristan’s face goes from blank to red to an ashen sort of gray. “We’re not actually getting married until after we graduate college, but our parents …”
“The Waltons and the Stones, a medieval match to join two great families.” Tristan narrows his eyes and glares at Zack. “Well, put your blind down.”
Zack glares right back at him, but pushes forward a stack of chips. Lizzie, meanwhile, just stands there, looking lost. I actually feel sorry for her. No fifteen year old wants to get engaged, especially not to some random guy her parents picked for money or prestige. I thought that stuff stopped happening in the middle ages.
“Tristan,” she begins, but he’s so furious right now, his hands are shaking as he holds them in his lap, waiting for play to pass around the table. “Can we talk? You know I still want to be friends.”
“Get fucked, Lizzie,” he says, but there’s a sadness in his voice that isn’t faked. He misses her. I start to wonder if this is the reason they broke up, the reason her dad doesn’t want her talking to him. Her face falls, and she lets go of Marcel’s arm to come around the table, taking up a chair behind me.
She watches us play, her presence bringing up so much noticeable tension in Tristan that he’s impossible to read. He bets everything, and I can’t decide if it’s because he’s really got a good hand, or if it’s because he’s angry. I take a risk.
At the end, it comes down to the two of us, and when he slams his cards face up on the table, I feel my stomach knot painfully. He’s got three of a kind; I’ve got two pair. We’re both full of shit, but that still means I lose.
“Guess we all you owe blow jobs, huh?” Zayd asks, but Tristan isn’t in the mood to laugh, and my eyes are bugging out of my skull. If he asks for that to satisfy the favor he’s just won, I’ll kill him.
“Marnye,” Zack begins, but my skin is all hot, and I can practically taste the freedom that’s being promised me. A whole year without being bothered. I could focus on my studies, have fun with Miranda, walk the halls without worrying …
“Again,” I say, and I hear a small gasp from Lizzie. “Same stakes?”
But Tristan is already pushing up from the table, his eyes dark, lips pursed.
“I’m done here,” he says, and then he storms off. Lizzie rises from her seat like she might go after him, but then stops cold. After a moment, she turns to me, eyes shimmering with unshed tears. Marcel watches the whole thing with a scowl, and I decide then that even though I don’t like Tristan, I like this guy even less..
“Do you think we could trade numbers?” Lizzie asks me after a moment, and my mouth pops open in surprise. “I felt a connection last night, I dunno.” She smiles and then pulls her phone from her purse, offering it up to me. “I mean, it never hurts to make new friends, right?”
“Definitely not,” I reply, plugging my phone number into her contacts list and then texting myself, so I’ll have her number on hand, too. “I haven’t exactly made a lot of friends at Burberry …”
“No shit,” Zayd snorts, but we both ignore him. Lizzie takes her phone, and her obnoxious fiancé, and disappears into the crowd. “Well, Tristan won’t be back tonight. He’s been carrying a torch for Lizzie Walton since elementary school. When her Dad forbid them from seeing each other, he was gutted.” Zayd picks up a bottle of beer from the case on the ground next to him, and pops the top, downing most of it in one go. “He’s probably off to find some Pleb to lick his wounds.”
My face scrunches up at that, but I don’t say anything. I’m not surprised.
“If you still want to play,” Creed says, ignoring Zayd and the incident completely. His eyes are locked on me, and my heart races wildly in my chest. “I’m in. There’s another five grand in it for you, too.”
“We should go,” Zack growls at me, but when I pick up the cards to deal, he just sighs and stays right where he is.
Unfortunately, I’m too full of myself, too desperate to show these guys who’s boss. Creed’s been watching me all night, picking up my tells. He takes the next round, and even though I know I should stop, that I’m pushing too hard, and too far, I raise my chin up.
“Again.”
The looks on Zayd’s and Creed’s faces should’ve been my first warning. Zack puts his hand on my knee and squeezes, but I ignore him, determined to win this, desperate for it.