Page 99 of Bookworm and the Beast
I’d heard Kristal was dating one of our high school classmates, Harry McAllen. It figured.
Not only was he an associate at her father’s prestigious law firm and Richard Bianco’s protégé, he’d grown up in Eastport Bay high society. Just like Kristal.
UnlikeKristal, he’d been a complete asswipe to me back then.
Harry and all of his trust-fund buddies had lorded it over the school, ditching class to go sailing or skiing and cheating their way through exams, confident in the knowledge their wealthy parents would buy them a “side-door” acceptance into a prestigious university no matter how much they fucked off.
Kristal had been different from the rest of her crowd. We’d had several shared classes, and she’d always been friendly and kind. Not just to me, to everyone.
But shehadlooked me directly in the eye when we’d spoken—she had these remarkable green eyes—and she’d known my name.
It was a pretty big high school, so not everyone did. Certainly not the rest of her Oceanview Avenue neighbors.
I’d never asked her out, of course. Sure, I’dlooked—she was the hottest girl in our class by far. How could I not look?
But she’d probably had a ton of guys asking her out, guys who could take her to expensive restaurants or exclusive clubs.
I hadn’t even had a car to pick her up in until halfway through senior year when I’d saved up enough money from my afterschool and weekend jobs to buy a used beater.
Just in case I’d ever dared to get my hopes up, my friends were quick to remind me of the vast chasm standing between me and Kristal.
“You can dream, man,” they’d joked. Or “Don’t tear a muscle with all that level-jumping.”
Feeling vaguely irritated and unable to keep my mind on my work, I got up and walked to the back doors, opening them and stepping out onto the terrace.
It was a beautiful night. The ocean breeze was just right—not too cool—and stars shone brightly in the clear night sky.
The music was more distinct out here. I could even identify the tune of an old jazz standard I’d always liked.
I let my eyes drift over in the direction of Bellevue Manor. The properties on this street were so large, it was impossible to see the mansion’s back lawn from here, but I could picture it—I’d been to several charity events there.
Men in tuxedoes, women in sparkly cocktail dresses or full-length gowns, strolling to the edge of the property to look at the ocean or perhaps playing a lawn game, champagne flutes in hand.
Kristal dressed up and looking like a princess.
My heart gave a single hard thump, and my mid-section twisted with a sick sense of longing I hadn’t felt in years.
Whenwas I going to get past it?
Here I was, an adult, a fucking billionaire for god’s sake, standing on the terrace of my own Oceanview Avenue mansion—well, this one was rented and shared with six of my friends and co-workers, but I could afford to buy my own if I wanted to now.
Iwasn’tthat skinny, lovesick boy from twelve years ago.
My pulse picked up speed. Thingsweredifferent now, weren’t they?
We weren’t in high school anymore. I was no longer the poor kid from the wrong side of town who’d had to give up sports and extra-curricular activities to work so he could buy his own clothes, his own car… sometimes the groceries.
I’d hustled my ass off to achieve my dreams, and I’d gotten them—most of them.
Hell, I could probably buy and sell most of those guys from “prestigious” families at this point as their inheritances had dwindled and my net worth had skyrocketed.
I was as good as any of them—had worked fucking hard to prove that.
Was I good enough forhernow?
Only one way to find out.
I literally ran up the staircase, taking the steps two at a time, and went to my room, showering quickly and dressing in the designer tux I’d bought last year for some televised awards ceremony.
