Prep School Experiment (17 page)

The offer was clear and startling, like getting sparkling water instead of still. The crystal liquid looked the same, but it packed a punch.

Kaitlin decided to play it straight up and light. “That was my first kiss. If a glimpse of my dreams has shown me what taking you back to my room would be like, it’s way too soon for that.” She slid down the seat, making room for him.

Rhys shut the door and used the speaker to ask the driver to take them to her house. Kaitlin relaxed and smiled.

Rhys kissed the side of her neck. The sensation made a crazy echo under her skin.

Wow.

“So later?” he asked. “You’ll come home with me later?”

Kaitlin tilted her head back against the seat, wanting his lips on hers again. “Yes, later.”

His fingertips traced from her jaw, down the side of her neck, to her collarbone and back up. Slowly. His thumb pressed deep into the center of her bottom lip. “Like this weekend?”

Her body pulsed and her lips fell open.

Wow.

Her mind was growing hazy. But, she forced herself to make a coherent sentence, to be honest with him. “Like after we’ve been in a secure relationship for a significant amount of time.”

Rhys shifted on the seat and his eyebrows rows. “Then during the holidays? Like Thanksgiving?” Whatever was on her face made him say, “Like Christmas?” There was a hint of desperation in his voice.

Kaitlin gurgled with weak laughter, eyes closing, distracted by his roaming lips. “Like after graduation.”

Rhys straightened totally, his face shocked, his eyes wide. “Are you serious?”

“Who have you been dating?” Kaitlin placed her fingers over his lips and he kissed them. “Don’t answer that.” She smiled at him. This amazing, gorgeous, passionate guy liked her. Everything that had gotten them to this moment was behind them. Alaska, accidently drugging him with a cupcake, dismissing him to her parents—all of it washed away. “I’m so glad you’ve forgiven me.”

The car slowed to a stop in front of her building. Rhys tilted his head and he looked sincere. “Haven’t.” His voice was slow and considering, honest. He released the door latch and got out, holding the door open for her. “I want you anyway.”

She struggled from the backseat and his response washed over her like an early winter gust off the Hudson—unexpected, shocking, and unwelcome. “What?” She replayed the events of their date in her mind. “You kissed me like you cared.” Her voice sounded lost to her own ears.

He looked down at her from the curb and she stepped up to the first step on the stoop to gain a few inches of height.

“Guys don’t have to care to kiss,” Rhys said.

Kaitlin sucked in a breath. Going from such a high to such a low made her snap. He was going to hear her side, like it or not. She tilted her head back and stood as tall as she could in her high heels. She met his gaze straight on. “Give me a break, Rhys, I’ve never even kissed a guy before tonight and you’re mad because I denied you were my boyfriend in Alaska when my parents caught us in my bed?”

Rhys frowned and touched her bottom lip. The lightest touch she could imagine and still it burned. “You should go inside.” He turned back to the car.

***

Rhys entered the foyer at his grandparents’ house, shaken more than he wanted to admit by the highs and lows of today. He ignored the elevator and took the stairs two at a time. As he passed the third flight of stairs, he caught a glimpse of Grandmother in the drawing room. “Hey.”

“Good evening, Rhys.” Grandmother motioned for him to join her. “I have your mom on the line.”

Rhys knew she meant the librarian. Tonight had reminded him of all the times the librarian had taken the staff to TexMex, though she was more inclined to dine on tofu herself. At the library, they had TexMex every weekend they worked and every holiday. “Hey,” he said, and offered the computer’s camera a friendly smile. “Had fajitas tonight. Not as good as JoJos, but good.” He named the restaurant they’d gone to the most often.

Michelle smiled like he’d given her a priceless first edition. “We’ll go to JoJos when you move back home.”

“Umm.” Rhys made a noncommittal noise.

The butler tapped on the door. “A Mr. Thayer Estridge is here.”

Rhys rose as quickly as he’d sat down. “May I be excused?”

“Of course, dear,” Grandmother said.

Michelle rubbed her face. “Is that
The
Estridge family? The ones who own the paper?” Her voice lowered. “That family’s a bit…well, you know, excessive?”

From her tone, Rhys knew she wanted to use a less nice word than
excessive.

“Umm hmm, Rhys and Thayer are friends.”

“Oh, Mom. I don’t know about that.”

Rhys left the drawing room without hearing Grandmother’s answer. He’d been on the other end of enough parental disapproval that he’d never block a friend because of it. He hit the marble stairs.

Thayer stood in the foyer. He appeared wrecked, which for him, meant he was still wearing the moneyed-down outfit.

“What’s up?”

“I like Alyssa. I like how she looks at me. I like how she smiles. I like how she moves.”

Rhys grinned. Easy one. He waved for Thayer to follow him up the stairs. “Tell her who you are.” He paused at the top, by a picture of the senator, the librarian, and Christian. His own truth hit him. None of his friends knew who he really was, none of them here and none of them at home. “Crap, who am I to talk?” He hadn’t really meant to say the last part aloud.

Thayer shook his head. “Maybe I’ll go on one more date with Alyssa as Thayer East. See how it goes?”

“One date, the name was misheard. Two dates, you’re lying.”

“Lying? Or delaying?”

Rhys continued up the next flight of stairs. “Delaying.”

“Like you?”

Rhys stumbled and stopped, turning. “Yeah, like me.”

Thayer didn’t appear mad or even overly curious. “I guess you’ll tell me your name later. Like say, maybe, on a Wednesday in November?”

Thayer was too damn smart. Rhys knew he could swing a lie. But, Thayer was actually cool, actually a friend. “Yeah. On a Wednesday in November.” He left the obvious unsaid—after Election Day he’d admit the senator was his father.

“Maybe you should tell the butler not to call the Brentwoods
your grandparents
until then.”

Rhys shrugged. It wasn’t like anyone came over.

Thayer let the topic drop. “Alyssa has a freaking curfew. Ever heard of that?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, I haven’t.”

They went into the living room on Rhys’ floor. They weren’t there long before Grandmother tapped on the door. “Thayer, did you eat?”

Rhys had thought the need to feed was a southern thing. Turned out that Yankee moms had it too. Though who knew what Grandmother would stir up at this hour? Caviar? Pâté? Snails? Or snail-caviar pâté?

“My date had us eat something called ‘street food.’ If your cook has anything else to offer, I’d be eternally in your debt. Maybe something from a tin? Or some residue on a wrapper?”

Grandmother smiled. “Consider it done.” She looked at the clock. “Your parents out of town?”

“Yes,” Thayer said and didn’t elaborate. Rhys got the impression they were out of town a lot.

“Why don’t you stay here tonight? Pick one of the guest rooms. You can borrow one of Rhys’ uniforms.”

“Thanks,” Thayer said.

Rhys realized the invitation was about more than the fact that it was getting late. It was a stamp of approval on their friendship. Grandmother was subtle that way and inclined to form her own opinions. He wondered what the librarian thought about that.

Rhys sat at the breakfast table with his forehead on his fist, staring out window. He and Kaitlin had been participating in a silent standoff since their date. Neither had budged. Rhys was sick of it—sick of Thayer going on about Alyssa while the girl he wanted was only feet away but as unreachable as if she were back in Alaska. He needed advice. “I like Kaitlin, Grandmother, I just do.”

“Well, that’s something.” She pushed the dish of Eggs Benedict toward him even though Grandfather hadn’t joined them. She started meals on time.

He scooped up a forkful of English muffin. The egg slithered under the salmon and two of the capers fell off. “How do you forgive?”

Grandmother lifted the pot of green tea and poured him a cup. “I’m not big on forgiveness myself.”

He laughed, the sound coming out rusty and pained.

Grandmother stirred a lump of sugar into her hot tea. “I don’t buy that rubbish that it makes one feel better. I forget the person and feel fine later.”

“And if I can’t forget her?”

“Well, when I do forgive, it’s because I see their heart, their intent, who they are. It’s more about embracing them with all their faults included.” She patted his arm. “Trust me, Rhys. You’ll screw up one day too. We all do.” Her mouth pursed. “And it sure is nice to know your loved ones will be there for you.”

Rhys couldn’t imagine this assured woman ever making a mistake. He swallowed. “I’ll be there for you, Grandma.”

She squeezed his arm. “I know, baby.”

Grandfather came in and Grandmother raised an eyebrow. Grandfather kissed her cheek with a smile of apology for his lateness. “There’s something you two should see.” He typed on his keyboard with hard clicking taps and the Internet popped up on the screen at the end of the table. “Today’s headlines in the society pages.”

The headlines read,
Manhattan’s most devoted host and hostess have a hidden secret. Sources who are very close to the family say the Brentwood Billionaires have a new bouncing bundle. Of course this bundle’s a teenager, so odds are he doesn’t belong to Clarice Brentwood. Looks like Cal kept a secret about seventeen years ago.

The accompanying photo showed Rhys with his arm around Kaitlin. She wore a blue dress, so he guessed it was from their date. They were exiting the Bentley. Rhys almost didn’t recognize himself. In the posh clothes with the ritzy car behind him, he looked like someone completely different, someone who fit in in New York City. The happy smile and possessive arm around Kaitlin were new too.

Kaitlin had her head tilted toward him, an adoring expression on her profile. Given the angle of her face, someone would have to know her to recognize her. That at least let him off the hook with her family.

An inset photo showed a younger Cal Brentwood, wearing a similar confident expression. The resemblance was startling. Rhys’s shoulders tightened.

Grandmother squeezed Grandfather’s hand and with a near silent exchange they supported each other. Grandmother tilted her head. “That’s a good one, dear. You’ll have to clip it for Kaitlin.”

Rhys stared at the photo. “This is bad.”

Grandmother tapped his plate, indicating he should finish his breakfast. “From what you said, the rumor was already going around your school.”

“Around the school, yes. But, now it’s in the newspaper. Parents will see it. Trust me. Kids act differently when their parents pressure them.”

Grandmother’s expression remained unconcerned. “Some will. Some won’t.”

“Some other reporter may add up the dates differently and look into the senator’s past.”

Grandfather rose and kissed Grandmother’s cheek. “I’ll warn Steven and contact my PR team.” His hand fell on Rhys’ shoulder a moment, giving it a solid squeeze, and then he left the breakfast room.

“Now you eat up while James pulls the car around.”

Tension spiraled through his body. No way he could eat. He put his napkin in his chair and rose. “I’m done.”

Grandmother waved. “Have a good day, dear.”

Was she kidding him? The best way this day could end would be that he didn’t break his hand in the fight he was about to get into. “Why aren’t you more upset?”

“For one, I know the paper got it wrong.”

His shoulders eased. “That helps.”

Grandmother looked at the door as if imagining his upcoming day at Shay Prep. “People are always there for you when you’re up. But things will always happen in life, and this is an opportunity to show you who your real friends are.” She reached over and straightened his tie. “Now, chin up. You come from sturdy stock. You can take this.”

“Thanks.” Rhys went to the front door with leaden steps. The fifteen-minute drive to school seemed to take only seconds. He reached for the door handle, moving slowly. It swung outward.

Weird.

James didn’t usually bother opening his door for him. Rhys had cured him of that needless formality. James tipped his cap. “You have a good day now, Mr. Brentwood.”

James specialized in monosyllabic responses, so for him to spit out a full sentence voluntarily meant a full show of support. Today was going to be bad. “I might need you to pick me up early.”

“Not a problem, sir.”

“If the text is un-readable, it means come get me, because I broke my hand on someone’s face.”

“I’ll bring ice, Mr. Brentwood.”

Rhys laughed. More gallows humor than true laughter.

James shut the door behind him, closing off his exit and got back in the driver’s seat. He maneuvered the Bentley free of the line of cars dropping off the over-privileged kids Rhys was about to fight with. He got two steps up the walk before he got the first feedback from the gossip column.

“Ba-st-ard.”

Rhys turned.

Parker from his physics class. He coughed the word into his elbow, making it one of those clever half-cough, half-insults. Probably because the physics professor had favored Rhys’ experiment on light diffusion over Parker’s lame hard-boiled egg demonstration.

The three guys standing nearby laughed. They thought they were safe, given their numbers.

If he knocked the guy on the end out first with an elbow, he could kick the one on the left out of range, leaving him with only one other opponent to take out before he reached Parker. Back at the trailer park, four would have been challenging odds. Here with the overprivileged, he had to worry more about professional bodyguards racing up from the parking lot than true fighting ability.