He follows my gaze to her. “Darcy? This is her place. She’s—”
“I think I’ll go say hello,” I cut him off before he can dispense more well-meaning advice. He stalks off in the opposite direction to begin his hunt.
I like Cyrus despite my reservations, but I’m not stupid enough to believe we’re friends. As his roommate, I hold some interest for him. He’s already talking about renting a house with Money and some other guys next year, though, and there’s no way I’m signing up to live in that viper pit. Not that I could afford it, anyway.
“Hey,” Darcy says, fanning her black lashes at me, as I approach. “Sterling, right?”
She remembers me? Maybe Cyrus isn’t so far off in his estimation of my fresh meat status. “Darcy.” She preens when I say her name, sticking out her chest which is already on display in a low cut, canary-yellow dress that hugs her curves. “Thanks for inviting me.”
It seems like the right thing to say to the hostess. Her smile widens even as she feigns humility. “Of course. I don’t even know half these people. Honestly, it’s nice to see a friendly face.” Her hand closes over my arm, long, manicured fingers squeezing it slightly. She bites her lip a little before pulling me toward the kitchen. “You need a drink!”
“I’m the designated driver,” I say, latching on to the excuse Cyrus gave me.
Darcy shakes her jet-black ringlets, annoyance marring her face. “That is just like Cyrus. He doesn’t have friends, because he treats everybody he meets like employees.”
“It’s not like,” I stop her before she gets the wrong idea. “I volunteered. So you two aren’t friends?”
“Sorta. Me, Money, Adair—we’re more like business partners. He can’t treat us like shit because we’re…” She trails away, her eyes wide like she’s almost spilled some secret. “How about a bottle of water?”
“Sure,” I agree. She didn’t need to finish that sentence. I know why Cyrus treats them differently. They’re rich. I’m not. At least, Darcy Palmer tries to be a little classier about it. But she’s aware of my rank in the food chain as much as she’s aware of her position at the top.
Darcy bypasses the mammoth fridge in the kitchen and leads me down the hallway. I don’t bother to ask where she’s taking me. I would need a map to find my way around this place, so I stick close to her side. Away from the crowd, I can smell her spicy perfume, a scent so intoxicating she could be a walking opium den, and made stronger by how closely she saunters next to me. Every few steps she brushes against me. Cy was right, I expect any minute now, she’ll begin to circle me and zero in for the kill. I won’t have to do any work at all.
And I can’t be less interested. She’s beautiful, her confidence arresting in its ease. Darcy Palmer isn’t afraid to show that she wants me, and I feel like a first-class prick for not wanting her back. The truth is that girls like her and Adair and the rest of Cyrus’s feminine counterparts just don’t do it for me. After the initial attraction, I can’t get past the money. I have no interest in pretending I belong here among them. It’s just some perverted sense of duty I feel to Adair, or the version of her I drove to the hospital. She’d been a somewhat decent human being on the way. I’d wanted to watch out for her. Every time I’ve seen her since, she’s been vying for the Biggest Bitch of the Universe title. No matter how many times I tell myself we’re nothing alike, I can’t accept it. I hadn’t seen her fear on that drive. I’d felt it burrow into my stomach coming back to hurt me like an abusive, old friend. Adair and I might not be anything alike but there’s no denying that I know her in a way none of the others can. Because despite all our differences, I’ve been in her shoes.
“I never let anyone come back here. Cook would kill me if she found me in her space,” Darcy says, drawing my attention back to her where it belongs. She guides me into a second kitchen, smaller but more practical than the one currently swarming with co-eds. Opening the fridge, she grabs two bottles of water. “But it’s not like we can talk out there.”
She twists the cap off one and holds it out to me.
We might be different but she’s not treating me like the dirt on the bottom of her shoe. If I was as smart as the scholarship committee deemed me, I would focus on her. It’s not like I’m looking for forever. Maybe Cy is on to something with his plan to take advantage of the opportunities. What man in his right mind would pass up Darcy?
“What’s your major?” she asks.
“Finance.” I have a mind for numbers. Francie calls it my secret weapon. It’s what got me a perfect score on the SATs math component and into Valmont.
“Oh.” Darcy must be good at math, too, because I see calculation in her eyes. “What do you plan to—”
“There you are!” A whirlwind of black and white rushes into the kitchen and grabs Darcy’s hand.
“Ava,” Darcy says through gritted teeth, tugging free of her grasp. “You remember Sterling.”
Ava pauses long enough to breathe a simpering, “Hello.”
“We were talking.” Darcy begins backing her toward the hallway. I half-expect a voice over to begin documenting the natural phenomenon occurring before me as the two powerful females engage in a ritualistic dance.
Over me.
How the fuck did I wind up here?
“I need you,” Ava says meaningfully.
“Can it wait?” The civility does little to hide the tension between them.
“Not if you want your parents’ bedroom to remain off-limits,” Ava informs her. “But if you want it
