“IT’S COLDER THAN a witch’s tit out here this morning.”
I glanced past our group of bundled-up friends to where Travis was shoving his hands in the pockets of his ripped jeans as we headed through the gates of Astor.
The snow was falling pretty hard this morning, but despite the frigid forecast, Travis had opted, as always, for looking good over feeling good. In other words, he was freezing his ass off right now in black designer jeans and a sheer rocker-esque shirt, and the only thing that looked remotely warm was the scarf he’d wound around his neck—all in the name of “fashion,” of course. Hell, he should’ve gone with Donovan to the shoot he had this morning—it was for some new, edgy brand that wanted him and Kelly to represent them. Travis would’ve fit right in.
“You have such a way with words,” West joked. “Maybe you should come with me and JT to next week’s poetry slam.”
Travis screwed his nose up. “Yeah, how about…no. The last thing I want to be is a third wheel in a room full of sappy poets.”
JT looked around his boyfriend’s shoulder. “You’d be surprised. Most of the poems on slam night are full of outrage over injustices and—”
“People who think shouting out their problems on a stage will change the world?” East rolled his eyes. “Let’s not forget they’re doing it all for a cash prize.”
JT looked at East—JT’s least favorite person after he learned East had bet West to date him. Even if it had all worked out in the end.
“They do it to send a message. To have their voices heard. The prize is just an incentive for people who might be—”
“In it for the money? Come on, Golden Boy, if these people were really so impassioned, they’d be chaining themselves to a tree on Wednesday nights or camping outside city hall. Not standing up on a stage for a couple of Benjamins.”
JT shook his head. “You’re such an asshole.”
“And you’re such a Pollyanna.”
“Okay, okay.” I put my hands up between all of them. “How about we just agree that Travis shouldn’t go anywhere near a poetry stage, for the sake of the craft?”
“Or you could all just shut the fuck up, ’cause no one cares.” Daire tossed his cigarette butt to the ground and crushed it with his heel, much like I suspected he wanted to squash the conversation.
“So eloquent, as always, Daire. Perhaps you should attend the poetry slam. You’re full of outrage. Or is it just rage?” East jogged up the steps to the main door, where a younger classman automatically opened it for him—or us, I supposed.
The group filed in one after another, Serena and I the last to make our way through.
“Thanks.” I smiled at the fresh-faced kid, a first year for sure, who immediately looked away and mumbled, “No problem.”
It was well known around campus who we were and what families we belonged to. The Park Avenue Princes had a reputation to maintain and came from a long line of legacies that preceded them. So whenever someone had the chance to get in our good graces, they would take it, whether it was through opening a door or bringing us our morning breakfast. It’d been that way for years.
Did I think it was particularly fair? No. Was it the way it was? Yes.
That didn’t mean we couldn’t acknowledge them or be polite.
We walked down the main hall toward our private hangout, a room our group had commandeered and designated as our own the first year we were at Astor. Classes weren’t due to start for another fifteen minutes, but this way we could fuel up on caffeine and food—and catch up on any gossip we might’ve missed.
Hushed voices and curious eyes always seemed to follow our movements as we made our way through the bustle of students on their way to class or the coffee carts and breakfast stands around campus.
Nothing seemed out of the ordinary until we got close to a crowd we knew relatively well through Gavin’s boyfriend, Joey. We’d hung out with them here and there, and it had been cordial enough—but lately they’d been mostly MIA.
They were huddled close, several girls and guys, and as we approached, it was like they shared some kind of silent message amongst one another, because each and every one of them turned in our direction.
“Fuckin’ hell.” Travis’s words mirrored every single one of our reactions as we all got a good look at Joey and the twisted direction of his nose, and a right eye that was the same gruesome shade of purplish black that Daire’s was.
Oh fuck. This was not going to end well.
I turned to Gavin, whose eyes had been glued to his phone all morning, and was about to lead him away from the shitshow that was about to go down when he all but ran into a frozen Travis.
As silence descended in the hall, Gavin looked up from his phone. When he spotted Joey, and the crowd tightening around him like a defensive move in some kind of battle, he loudly gasped.
Great. This was just fucking great.
“Joey?” Gavin’s voice was barely audible as he stepped away from our group. “What happened to you?”
An ugly twist of the lips made Joey’s swollen face even more gnarled. “You know exactly what.”
Gavin shook his head, walking further away from us and closer to the rabid dogs straining at their leash. “I… No. What are you—”
“Save it, slut,” one of Joey’s minions snarled, as Joey’s eyes shifted past Gavin’s shoulder to our very own rabid animal, and Daire looked ready to kill. “We know you sent him.”
Gavin spun on our group, his pale eyes looking as though they were about to flash a bolt of lightning in Daire’s direction. “You did this?”
Shit. Here I’d been worried that all hell was going to break loose between us and Joey’s crowd, but the anger swirling in the hall had suddenly shifted. The rage was now vibrating between Gavin and Daire.
“He—”
“Did you do this?” Gavin demanded, louder than I’d ever heard him speak, and Daire’s mouth clamped shut. “Un-fucking-believable.”
Gavin shoved past us, and I reached for him, but before I could offer any kind of advice—don’t ask me what—he was toe to toe with Daire and seething.
“You promised.”
The contrast between dark and light had never been more apparent as Daire glared down into Gavin’s pale face, his dark eyes giving nothing away.
“I lied.”
Gavin shoved him in the chest so hard that Daire stumbled back several steps, but he did nothing to retaliate. He merely angled his chin up in stony defiance as Gavin stormed past him and down the hall without a backward glance.
When we turned back to the group behind us, it was to see a vicious slash curling Joey’s lips as he eyed Daire.
“Good luck fucking him now.”
Daire muscled forward, but luckily Travis and West were there to hold him back as East stepped out.
“How about you go crawl back into whatever hole Gavin dug you out of for the few months he was bored? Or, if you like, I could have someone dig it for you.”
“You threatening me?”
“No…” East flashed a killer smile their way. “I’d never be so obvious.”
“Fucking pricks,” someone in the group hissed.
“Yes,” East agreed, nose in the air, pompous as can be. “Park Avenue Pricks. A lot of fucking comes with the territory, something I’m sure you have to beg or pay for. Now, if we’re done here—”
“Mr. Easton has a paper to rewrite, if he wants a chance of passing my class next semester.”
My mouth fell open as Serena and I turned to see Zac Fletcher making his way past our group to East, and Joey and his crowd scattered.
“Your class?” In true East form, not even the new teacher’s assistant to his strictest professor, King, could rattle him. He gave Zac a typical East once-over, and from his unimpressed expression it was clear to everyone how lacking he found the black jeans, grey V-neck shirt, and sports jacket ensemble Zac wore.
Not that it seemed to bother Zac. He merely walked up to East and slapped the papers he held against East’s chest.
“As far as you’re concerned, it is. This is a failed paper. So if you want to spend time with your little friends here somewhere warm over the winter break, you’re going to want to get to class. Now.”
I looked over Serena’s head to see West’s eyes were wide as saucers. No one talked to East the way Zac was, especially in public.
“I can’t look away,” Serena whispered by my ear, and I knew the feeling. It was like watching a train wreck. You knew the crash would be catastrophic, but there was no way to stop it, so you just stood by and watched.
East arched a brow and didn’t even bother looking at the papers now glued to his chest.
“If you think for one second I will be spending my winter break anywhere near this city, you don’t know who you’re talking to. Failed paper or not.”
East went to step around Zac but was stopped by a hand on his arm. He eyed it like one would a peasant touching royalty, but Zac didn’t miss a beat.
“And if you think for one second your money is going to get you out of this, then you don’t know who you’re talking to. My classroom, James, now.”
East looked to the rest of us and no doubt saw us gawking at him like a bunch of busybodies with our eyes wide and jaws on the floor. But it wasn’t every day someone put James Easton in his place. Moreover, it wasn’t every day he let someone get away with it. There was a first time for everything, though.
East narrowed his eyes like a snake homing in on its prey, and I hoped to god Zac knew what he’d just provoked, as East yanked his arm free and turned until he was practically nose to nose with the brave—or stupid; jury was still out—TA.
“You touch me again, and I will report you.”
We all held our breath, waiting for the threat to land, but the only indication that East had struck a nerve was the slight twitch in Zac’s angular jaw line as he leaned in even closer and said, “No, you won’t. Now get to class.”
East’s nostrils flared, and just when I thought he’d throw out something to cut Zac off at his knees, he started off down the hall—shoulders straight, head held high, the distinct scent of revenge lingering his wake—as Zac kept watch behind him.
“Fuck me.” Travis blew out a breath. “I don’t know about you guys, but I need a goddamn drink.”
No kidding. We’d barely set foot in the place and it felt as though it had just imploded on us.
I turned to what was left of our friends to see West hugging JT into his side and Travis shaking his head.
“You think we should call Van, tell him about Gavin?”
Travis shrugged. “I don’t know, man. Gavin looked pretty pissed that Daire had stuck his nose—or fist—in his business. I’d leave it if I were you. He’ll tell him if he wants to.”
Serena nodded. “I have to agree. It definitely looked like he wanted some space.”
“Yeah.” West snorted. “From the person he just moved in with.”
“You’re right,” I said. “I just thought that if he was going through a breakup he might want to talk about it—”
Travis hiked his bag up his shoulder. “Personally, I’d just want to get shit-faced drunk and forget all about that person.”
“Oh yeah.” I eyed him as he started to scroll through his phone. “How’s that working for you? Caleb do anything interesting last night?”
The scowl Travis threw my way should’ve had the floor opening up under me.
“I don’t know, did Zaddy Carrington?”
“I don’t know, I haven’t seen him.”
Serena scrunched her nose up. “You guys promised no details. That includes nicknames.”
“Sorry,” I said “Ignore Travis. He’s just touchy—”
“Because he’s not being touched,” West interjected, and Travis glared at all of us.
“Yeah, well, that’s going to change this weekend.”
“You have a date?” JT’s smile was bright and full of enthusiasm, like he thought Travis might finally find the love of his life if he went on a date.
I had a feeling that Travis was just trying to find dick.
“Well, I’m not showing up to a Winter Ball on my own lookin’ like some loser.”
“You wouldn’t be on your own.” Serena rubbed his arm. “You’d be with us.”
“You and your ‘boyfriend’ over there?” Travis eyed the two of us. “Are you even going together, or did your dad steal your date?”
“Hilarious.” Serena’s voice was droll but unaffected as she cuddled into my side and looked up at me. “We are still going together, aren’t we? I didn’t even think to ask. But Dad’s going with Rodney, so it shouldn’t be a problem, right?”
Wait a second. Did she just say—
“Arch—your dad’s taking someone to the ball?”
I could feel the blood draining from my face as my stomach began to twist. The happy little flips I’d been feeling whenever I thought about Archer were now churning into a ball of knots.
“Uh oh…” Travis chuckled. “Looks like Preston’s the one who won’t be getting touched.”
I shot a glare in his direction, Serena’s words still playing on a loop in my head as I tried to recall Archer mentioning anything about a date for the Winter Ball. But no, there was nothing. If anything, he’d spent time telling me all the reasons why he didn’t date.
How convenient that he’d left this part out.
“Oh God.” Serena bit down on her lip, worry swirling in her eyes. “You didn’t know.”
My heart was racing a mile a minute as I tried to squash down the irrational feelings of hurt and jealousy bubbling up inside of me.
What had I expected? Archer to show up solo? For him to sit across from me and pine for me, the way I would him? How naïve could I get? But the idea of watching Archer wine and dine another man while I was across the room, unable to touch him, made me want to both throw up and punch something.
“No. I didn’t.”
“Yeah,” West said as he cautiously backed him and JT away from us. “We’re going to head to class now.”
Travis pointed at them and nodded. “And I’m gonna go with.”
I couldn’t blame them. I wouldn’t want to be around me right then either. I felt like an idiot. Like some stupid, lovesick, overeager kid who’d built up this fantasy in my head where someone as charismatic and sophisticated as Archer Carrington could possibly want more with me than a couple nights in his bed.
How stupid was I?
“Preston?” Serena’s voice was soft, like she was trying to soothe me. But it was too late. My insecurities had already taken over.
“Can you give me a minute?” I fished my phone out of my pocket and held up my cell. “I just want to—”
She nodded, squeezing my arm. “Take your time. I’ll wait for you over here.”
I took in a breath, trying to calm the riot of emotions wreaking havoc on my mind, and walked to one of the windows looking out over Astor’s main courtyard.
Was I kidding myself to think that Archer and I could have any kind of real relationship? I was still in college, for God’s sake. He was out running a multimillion-dollar company.
But…he’d been amazing this weekend. So sexy and attentive, funny and smart, the best date I ever had—and now all I could think was: would Rodney feel the same way?
I tightened my hand around my phone, the green-eyed monster rearing its ugly head—and how odd it was over something as simple as date after what we’d done this weekend with Raul and Johan.
Somehow, though, this felt more personal. Not only the thought of his spending time with someone else, but the fact he didn’t tell me? It hurt.
I stared down at the screen and pulled up a message thread with FILTH, his nickname now mocking me.
You have a date for the Winter Ball. Guess you made time in your schedule for that.
Then, before I could talk myself out of it, I hit send.
