“What’s that?”
“Local college about thirty minutes away. No one there gives a rat’s ass about the Astor Park social hierarchy.” She pauses. “But I am kinda surprised that anyone is listening to Reed. Word was that the Royals were on their way out.”
I take a sip of my beer before answering. “You realize how ridiculous that sounds, right?”
“It’s not, though. This pecking order is set at birth. Even before. The governor of our state went to Astor. The judges he appoints are guys or girls he went to school with. What prep school you went to matters at the bigger, better colleges. What jobs you get depends on the clubs you belonged to. The more secret and exclusive, the better. That’s why I live with the Carringtons for nine months out of the year. So I can give my kids the privileged start in life that my parents didn’t have.”
“I guess. But you can still be happy without all this.” I wave the bottle toward the party. “I was happy before I came here.”
“Mmmm.” Val makes a disbelieving noise. At my frown, she says, “Were you really happy by yourself? With your sick mom to take care of? Maybe you were coping, but you can’t tell me you were truly, blissfully happy.”
“Maybe I wasn’t blissfully happy, but I was definitely happier than I am now.”
She gives a tiny shrug. “Okay, but the point is still the same. Astor is a smaller version of what we’re all going to face when we’re adults. These jerks are going to run our world unless we do something about it.”
I exhale an irritated sigh, mostly because she’s right. So how am I going to survive? I can’t run away, so I guess that means I have to face these people and deal with them. “If the Royals are on their way out, who’s on the rise?”
“Jordan, of course. She’s dating Scott Gastonburg.” Val gestures to a tall boy leaning against a fireplace mantle.
I narrow my eyes at him. He looks really familiar in his cowboy getup, except the last time I saw him, he didn’t have his jaw wired shut. The last time I saw him was at the club and he was on the floor getting his face bashed in by Reed.
“I can see why they’re a couple,” I say cattily. “She does all the talking and he can only smile and nod. The perfect boyfriend.” I don’t feel guilty at all that Reed broke this guy’s face. Scott said horrible things about me. Not as horrible as Jordan did, but still bad.
Val smirks and drinks her wine cooler in silent agreement. Then she tips her chin toward another guy sitting on the arm of a sofa. “What do you think of him?”
“I have no idea who he is. Nice cheekbones, though.” The boy Val’s referring to has ink-black hair and is wearing a pirate’s costume complete with a dangerous-looking sword strapped to his waist. The gleam off the metal hilt seems too real for a costume piece.
“Right? That’s Hiro Kamenashi. His family’s part of the conglomerate of Ikoto Autos. They opened a manufacturing plant two years ago and apparently have more money than some small countries.”
“Is he nice?”
She shrugs. “Don’t know. Heard he has a decent dick, though. Hold my drink. I’m going in.”
I grab her wine cooler before it drops to the floor and watch as Val slides through the crowd and taps Hiro on the shoulder. A few seconds later, she’s leading him into the next room where couples are grinding against each other.
I feel a pull in my belly. If Reed and I were together, we’d be in there. Our bodies would be glued together. I’d feel his excitement press against me. He’d hear my desire in the shortness of my breaths and my soft, irrepressible moans.
We’d go outside and find a dark corner where his fingers would slip beneath my shirt and my hands would map out the hard planes of his muscles. And in the dark, away from the crowd, his mouth would seal itself against mine and we would dance away all my feelings of loss and loneliness.
I lied to Valerie. I have experienced moments of blissful happiness. The problem is that the fall off the cliff of joy hurts like a bitch.
I shake myself to get rid of dangerous thoughts about Reed and look around the room again for my Hiro. This time when I spot Easton, he’s leaning against a pillar on the porch and it’s not Shea between his legs. It’s Savannah, dressed in an ethereal white gown. She looks gorgeous but sad, like the abandoned princess she is.
Easton, you dumb shit.
But I’m as dumb as he is, looking for some guy to put my arms around to make me feel better. Well, I already have someone who cares about me and I care about him, too. And I’m not going to let him make another mistake tonight.
“Hey, Easton,” I say as I approach.
He rolls his head lazily toward me. His eyes are completely unfocused. Shit. I have no clue what he’s on, and the boy is nearly a foot taller than me and a hundred pounds heavier. I can’t just drag him off.