Page 525 of Filthy Elites

Angelo nods, his smile dimming. “I get it. But if things uncomplicate themselves, or you change your mind, you let me know.”

“I will,” I nod, offering him a small smile.

Another valet arrives with Sammy’s car and I climb into the passenger seat, not glancing in Angelo’s direction as she pulls away from the curb.

“He was cute, why did you say no?”

“I don’t know, he is cute, but he doesn’t really do anything for me.”

“Hmm,” she says, smirking knowingly at me as we drive through the entrance gates and onto the road.

“This is the first time I’ve left campus since I got here.”

“What?” she gasps. “How come?”

“I don’t have a car and the closest bus stop is like twenty minutes’ walk from here.”

“You ride the bus?” she asks appalled.

For the first time in years, I remember how ignorant of the real world the wealthy and entitled are. “Yeah, that’s how normal folk get places when they don’t have a car.”

“Wow, I sound like a stuck-up bitch, don’t I? I’m sorry, there’s just no way my parents would let me take a bus anywhere, they think I’m too young to even be in school, they wanted me to defer my place at Kingsacre and stay home for another year.”

“It’s fine, it’s just been a few years since I was around the überwealthy. The tiny town we lived in, in Maine was just full of fisherman and their families, the nicest car in town was the shiny new school bus.”

“But your mom married Daddy Warbucks, so you’re like rich now too. Also, fuck you very much for not telling me exactly who your stalker and your housemates were. The Lockwoods, Morrises, Rossbergs and Jansens are like American royalty, they’re not just rich, they’re next level rich and insanely powerful. To be honest, if I’d known you’re basically a Morris I think I’d have been too intimidated to speak to you that first day.”

“I’m not a Morris. I’m a Kennedy, just the plain old normal daughter of a fisherman from Maine, Starling Kennedy. My mom married into all that, not me.”

Sammy mouths “Ohh,” then falls silent for a few minutes until we reach a small row of shops, bars and restaurants.

“I literally had no idea this was here,” I admit.

“Have you been eating on campus this whole time too?”

“Mainly. The last couple of weeks since I started trying to piss Sebastian off, I’ve been eating more at home, the guys like to cook, which I find odd, but the refrigerator is always stocked and the food in the cafeteria at night is truly awful.”

Sammy parks the car and we climb out. She heads toward a cute restaurant with comfy-looking sofas out front in beachy pinks and oranges. We sit and a waitress takes our orders.

“Has he texted you yet?” she asks.

“He hadn’t before we left. I’m not sure he will, he’s not the wait three days type, he’s the slide an engagement ring onto your finger while you sleep kind of a guy.”

“Oh my god, I love him. You make him sound like such an asshole.”

“He’s the biggest asshole.”

“With the biggest dick by the looks of it, don’t think I haven’t notice how you’re walking this morning.”

“I’m actually in pain, my thighs are chaffed and I think I might need to take some Tylenol, my pussy has a pulse.”

“Oh my god,” she cackles. “Tell me everything, how did it even happen? Last thing I remember was you dancing with a sexy ginger, then we danced, then you were gone.”

“Urgh, I don’t even know. He said he wanted to be friends.”

“Friends?”

“Exactly, I mean what the fuck? So I got really angry and I just wanted to leave, so I texted you and then he followed me and caught up to me, and the next thing I know we’re fucking against a tree.”

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