It was meant as a joke, but it’s true. As we approach the bar I recognize Grant Fielder, my guide during orientation. He’s easy to spot as he’s quite literally ginormous. His shoulders are so broad they almost cast a shadow on Lily and I as we approach.
“Olivia god damn Beckett,” Grant beams, as if we are old friends rather than two strangers who met days earlier on a guided tour. Something about Grant makes me feel cozy and new like clean sheets during a rainstorm. Lily likes to refer to it as old money kindness: a person who never has to worry therefore has no reason not to be anything but warm.
“Grant!” I shout, feeling the ice wall I put up for Gen immediately melt in the presence of his megawatt smile.
“I’m still shocked the girl in the Harvard hoodie decided on a small school like Astor Hill,” Grant chuckles.
“Oh this smart ass got into Harvard, but we are way too codependent for her to leave me at little old Astor Hill alone.” Lily flips her loose curls over her shoulder, color rising to her cheeks. “I’m Lily, by the way.” I instantly recognize the look in Lily's eyes, the one that mesmerized every boy at our high school for the past four years.
“Well hey there Lily, what would you like to drink?” Grant seems instantly enamored, taking in Lily’s thickly lashed blue eyes. His cheeks flush as he glances down at his Converse caked in the mud of the backyard. I feel that familiar pang of annoyance as another boy I’ve come to know falls for my best friend.
“I’ll take that,” Will’s long outstretched hand plucks the red solo cup out of Grant’s. Turning toward Will, Grant’s face goes from charmed to annoyed almost immediately.
“I actually have strict orders to keep you away from the bar. In fact, I was specifically told not to let you serve these two inparticular.” Grant tilts his head in my direction and Will steps a foot closer to him.
“You always take orders from your captain?”
While it’s apparent that they’re relatively the same height, Grant’s muscle mass somehow doubles that of Will’s, making him seem almost scrawny in comparison. I lightly place my hand on the bar in a gesture that I hope shows I have something to say. I don’t think I’ll get a response, but both boys instantly turn toward me.
“While this little display is flattering, we actually would like a drink.” My eyes flit to Grant as I give him what I hope is a friendly and not flirty smile. I can practically feel Lily perspiring just staring at the guy.“Not into athletes”my ass.
Grant finally hands us two cold beers from the keg behind him.
“Maybe I’ll catch you guys later?” It doesn’t take a scientist to know that Grant’s not asking me.
“I hope so,” Lily winks, squeezing my hand as she turns her back on a sulking Will and wistful Grant. “So a captain has his sights on you,” she whispers, surprised, pulling me to her ear.
“I’m pretty sure Grant said, and I quote, ‘these two’, meaning a captain likely has his sights set onyou,” I say with a hint of annoyance.
The night sits on my skin as we sip our drinks, the humidity making me feel cold and dewy. I watch a blue buzz-cut bob against the lit-up backyard, the owner of said buzz-cut chatting with a girl who looks older, maybe even too old to be in college.
“Lily, I hate to abandon you but—,” I point towards Ian Rivers, his gold watch falling down his slender arm, his boyfriend, Jean, who I recognize from my hours of internet stalking, smoking a cigarette beside him.
“No, please do not leave me for those gross hipsters. Seriously. I can’t do this without you.” She gestures at the crowdbehind us, a few of whom are clearly waiting for a window to approach her.
“Lily, you will be fine. These people are, quite literally, in love with you. Besides, you know I have to stick to the plan,” I say, referencing the carefully mapped-out future that I laid out via mood boards covering the walls of our dorm. Step 1 of the plan is to make Ian Rivers my bitch.
“Fine, good luck with that, I guess,” she says, rolling her eyes and mumbling something to herself. I make out the word pathetic but choose to ignore her.
I feel bad leaving Lily in the waiting hands of Gen and Will, but I know she isn’t edgy enough to introduce to Ian’s crowd right out the gate. They glower as I approach, Jean cocking his eyebrow at me, clearly impressed with my outfit as his eyes openly assess my single-breasted Saint Laurent leather blazer. Ian is simply the person to know if you want to be connected to the most elite circles at Astor Hill. Despite only being a sophomore, he quickly climbed the ranks of both the paper and Astor society. Editor of the newspaper, apparent journalistic wizkid, and notorious party boy, his parents are new money, and he has no problem spending it.
The Astor Hill newspaper is a league of its own, run more like an underground magazine. Ian makes sure his reporters are free to write about the most slanderous of gossip. This means they need open access from events, to school board meetings; they’re somehow invited to everything. Being that Astor Hill is home to some of the most elite families on the East Coast, every person here knows that no press is bad press.
Ian plays with the gold chain above the neckline of his crushed velvet button-down. His eyes almost dare me to speak.
“You’ve approached?” he mutters. It’s obvious he was going for disdain, but I sense the curiosity in his tone. I ignore him.With a roll of my eyes, I give Jean a bone-chilling glance that makes its way down to his shoes.
“Can’t go wrong with a vintage loafer,” I say, confidently holding out my fingers for his cigarette. He hands it over, in awe that I’ve made Ian feel somewhat invisible.
“You’re Olivia Beckett, right?” the older girl asks as she peeks out from under her sunglasses. I take the bait, even though people who wear sunglasses at night are almost always tacky.
“None other,” I say with a tight smirk, trying to keep my cool under Ian’s scrutiny.
“Ah, Olivia… your name has been on everyone’s lips this evening,” Ian finally gives in, his curiosity getting the best of him.
“Whose lips specifically?” I wink at him, giving a mischievous grin that I hope I can pull off. This seems to work as his face breaks into a smile.
“I can see why you’re the talk of this extremely small town. What do I owe the pleasure?” I hand Jean back the cigarette, coolly fixing my stare on Ian.
