Me?
I was bored.
Another summer gone, half of it wasted shadowing my dad’s business partner in Milan—learning how to smile with my teeth while calculating leverage ratios. The other half on Tristan’s yacht, anchored off the Hamptons, watching thesame scene repeat in different coordinates. Perfect makeup. Perfect size four. Nose jobs and filler before their senior portraits.
Every girl looked the same. Polished. Planned. Not a strand of hair out of place.
So when I sawher, it hit different.
At first, it was just motion—someone new slipping through the crowd like she hadn’t noticed the pecking order. Laughing softly at something her friend said, eyes half-lidded in the firelight.
Then the rest hit me in pieces.
Golden skin. Cutoffs that showed off the kind of legs that weren’t bought with Pilates classes. A loose white cami that slipped off one shoulder, catching firelight in the folds. Hair long and wind-tossed—not curled,not sprayed into submission, just…real.
Beautiful in that careless, didn’t-try-too-hard way.
Fresh.
Original.
A little messy. A little wild.
I straightened without meaning to.
“Who’s that?” I asked, nodding toward her.
Xavier followed my line of sight. “No clue. Not one of ours.”
Tristan raised an eyebrow. “She’s with that Price girl, I think. You know—scholarship kid. The one whose dad works at the polo barns.”
“Scholarship?” Xavier smirked. “That explains the vintage vibes.”
I didn’t respond. My eyes were still locked on her.
The rest of the party blurred—music, voices, flame. But she stood out like a secret. Like something sharp in a room full of soft edges.
“She’s new,” Tristan added, flicking his lighter. “Jade something.Transferred late. Real name’s not even Bryan. Rumor is she changed it.”
I didn’t care.
In fact, it made her more interesting.
A fake name? A clean slate? I could respect that.
All I knew was, she didn’t move like she wanted to be noticed—but I noticed her anyway. The way she tucked her hair behind her ear. The way she stood half in the shadows, like she was measuring the fire and deciding if it was worth stepping closer.
I didn’t hear the whispers. Didn’t care.
Scholarship girl.
Fresh meat.
Call her what you want.
She was the most alive thing Royal Oaks had seen in a long time.
And I wanted her.
