"I told him I was taking Harper on a makeup date, and he immediately agreed," Tristan says, checking his red and black Rolex, the one I retrieved from the trash. He hasn't taken it off since we started school, and I suspect that has something to do with his father. "She should be showing up to the courtyard right about …”
Tristan pushes the button for the sun roof, and it opens, spilling golden light into the back of the limo. He glances over at me and holds out a hand.
"Help me with this." I take his palm, and feel a little jolt of electricity ping through me as Tristan and I both stand up on the seat, looking out the roof as the limo rolls around the circular drive.
Harper is standing on the steps, all dressed up in a tight black dress and heels, gaping at us. As she watches, Tristan spins me toward him, cups the side of my face, and kisses the hell out of me.
For a heartbeat there, I forget where I am or what we're doing or why we're doing it. All I can think about is the hot taste of his mouth, the way his tongue expertly takes over the moment. He's an incredible kisser, and it's obvious he's had plenty of practice. There's something sexy about that in its own way, like I enjoy the fact that Tristan knows exactly how to take care of me.
Zack makes a frustrated sound, and I pull back, panting.
But the job's been done: Harper is furious.
She's come down the steps, and is screaming something at us that I can't quite hear. The grin on Tristan's face is truly malicious, but now that I'm not on the receiving end of it, I'm enthralled.
He's got a dark delicacy to him, a sensual cruelness, that draws me in like a moth to flame. I know I'll be burned, and I don't care. My wings will spark with embers, and shrivel up, and I'll fall, but that warm, dry palm will be there to catch me.
Shit.
I'm doing it again.
The waxing poetic thing.
I duck back into the limo and find my seat again. Zayd leaves me alone for about two seconds before he pulls me in his lap, and I like the feel of him against me so much that I just … relax.
"That was a nice bit of revenge," I say with a smile. Normally, I'd never do something like that. But Harper, she's crossed so many lines. She tried to drown me in a swimming pool. Having her feelings momentarily stung is nothing in comparison.
"I'm assuming Mr. Vanderbilt won't be pleased when he finds out this was a ruse?" Windsor guesses, holding a glass of champagne in one hand and watching Tristan with those bright hazel eyes of his.
"Harper won't say a word. She'll be too ashamed." Tristan accepts a glass from Creed and sips it, closing his charcoal gray eyes for a moment. When he opens them, he stares at me sitting in Zayd's lap and his fingers tighten on the glass' stem.
"What if you're wrong about that?" I ask, and Tristan's face tightens slightly.
"Then I'll pay dearly," he says with a sigh. "But that'll come later. Right now, I just want to enjoy my weekend."
"Are you going to be wearing a snack costume, too?" I ask, because Miranda, Andrew, Zack, Windsor, and I already decided on a Halloween theme: food. Popcorn, hotdogs, French fries, etc. Anything snack-y and fun. Lizzie's in, too. So is Zayd, and Miranda promised Creed would do it if she told him to.
Tristan is the only one I'm not sure about, and the only one I'm really struggling to imagine in a goofy costume.
"A snack costume?" he repeats, and Windsor laughs.
"It was Marnye's idea," the prince says, grinning. "I'm going to purposely leak a photo of myself, so it goes viral. My mother will be pulling her hair out. She hates scandals, you know."
"So you go out of your way to perpetuate them?" I ask, and Windsor grins. That's a definite yes.
"Snacks," Tristan repeats, and I nod.
"You know, like you can go as a bowl of fruit, or a bag of mixed nuts—"
"Tristan loves nuts, that should suit him," Zayd interjects, and I ignore him.
"—a giant cookie, a slice of pizza, that sort of thing." I grin as Tristan looks at me like I'm crazy. "Trust me: I went as a living macaron cookie last year. It can be done tastefully. We'll find you something. Besides, you're the one who said you wanted to present a united front to the other students. What better way than dressing alike for Halloween?"
Tristan doesn't say anything else, but I can see him contemplating over there, the wheels and cogs in his mind spinning.
Everyone goes quiet for a while, but I can feel Zack watching me, reading far too much into me sitting on Zayd's lap.
It's just sort of a thing he does, has always done. But when I think about it, it is kind of … intimate. I turn my gaze over to Zayd, my arms wrapped around his neck, and I find that we're really close. Close enough to kiss.
I bite my lower lip and look away.
Windsor breaks the tension by discussing Halloween and his plans for a party at his place. Usually we have it at the cemetery on campus, so this would be a way to shake things up. It'll be interesting to see how many people follow us there … and how many stay with Harper.
Ugh.
All this political intrigue is driving me nuts.
But, hey, Tristan likes nuts, right?
I'm so excited by the time we get to Lujo that I'm the first out the door when it opens, practically skipping into the café where I went with Creed and Miranda. According to the guys, the girls made their bet just before winter formal, so when he bought me those shoes, he knew. I push that information aside, peering into the glass and looking at the sea of pretty pastries.
Windsor tosses his card on the counter before anyone even orders, and declares that he's taking care of the bill. It's a control thing with him, I think. Actually, I'm pretty sure he wanted to know why Tristan was in charge of arranging the car because he wanted to do it himself.
"Look, a Union Jack cookie," I say with a grin, pointing at the row of flag-frosted cookies in the back. "A taste of home."
"You Americans and your cookies," he says with a chuckle. "They're bloody biscuits. That is a frosted biscuit."
"Biscuits go with gravy. These are freaking cookies, Wind." I order an eclair and an iced chai from the woman behind the counter, and Windsor copies me, following me through the archway and into the side area where I sat last time I was here. I choose a slightly different spot, near the fireplace in the back, and settle into the sofa.
Wind sits beside me, his body denting the cushion and causing our bodies to touch.
He reaches down and curves his fingers through mine, making my heart stutter in my chest. He touches me all the time, so it's not really that big of a deal, but … something seems different now.
"You know how I said we could date, and it'd be fun?" he asks, and I nod. How could I forget that? "I think that if you're considering one of these idiots, you should consider my offer, too."
I sit there for a minute, breathing in the smell of coffee and sugar, the faint smoky scent from the fire. Underneath it all, there's Windsor's smell, that daffodil and shoe polish scent. Such a weird combo, but so accurate. I think the latter part is because he's always wearing those leather boots of his, and they're always shined to perfection. That must be where the polish part comes in. The sweet floral scent … sometimes I wonder if I'm imagining it.
The other boys filter in, and Zack puts my chai and pastry on the table while giving Wind a look.
"You'd grab mine, wouldn't you?" he asks, his accent cheerful and chipper. He reaches up and pushes some of that beautiful red hair of his from his forehead, making it stick up like it always does. "Be a mate, Zack, and help a guy out."
"You can get your own fucking food," Zack says, taking up the seat on my other side. Windsor flips him off, but sighs and stands up anyway. The other guys are already seated, or else I think someone might've taken his spot.
That wouldn't have gone down well.
My fingers tingle from where he touched them, and I shake my hand out before grabbing my chai. It's spicy and sweet at the same time, like star anise and cardamom and vanilla. Ugh. So freaking good.
"You know the Lujo Pride Festival is insane," Zayd says, leaning over and propping his elbows on his knees. "It'd be a dream to play during it." He looks down at his pile of frosted sugar cookies and sighs.
"When can I meet your band?" I ask, and he glances over at me in surprise. "I mean, you never talk about them, but you guys must spend a lot of time together, right?"
"Every free second I have when I'm not at Burberry or being dragged around on my old man's tour bus." Zayd grins. "You Googled us, right? You've seen them, bunch of assholes." He pulls his phone from his pocket and passes it over, so I can scroll through pictures. About … two dozen pics in, and I get one of him shirtless in front of a mirror, abs tightened, taking a ridiculous selfie.
I hold back a giggle and scroll over again, only to find a nude pic of Zayd.
His, um, well, let's just be straight here: his dick is in full view. I can see everything, including the fact that it's pierced at the tip.
"Jesus, man," Zack says, snatching the phone from me and chucking it back at our rocker friend. Zayd catches it, looking confused, and then glances down to see the picture. He grins big and looks up.
"What'd you think?" he asks, and I can tell my cheeks are bright red as Windsor comes back in and sits down beside me.
"Your friends look really nice," I say, and he shakes his head.
"No, I meant about my body, mostly my dick."
"Oh for fuck's sake," Creed drawls, draped over a chair like he owns the place. He and Tristan exchange glances, and I grin, putting the eclair in my mouth, so I don't have to answer.
After we're done at the café, we hit up just about every shop on the main street, gathering supplies for our costumes, and then hit the B&B at just about check-in time.
We've got a family suite which, really, is just a collection of rooms with inner doors so they can be connected. We have three rooms, one of which has a seating area, and a giant bathtub that's sort of just … in the middle of the bedroom.