Page 65 of Spearcrest Knight

“I don’t thinkallAmericans are thick and bull-headed. Americans have plenty of qualities too.”

He stares at me with his mouth open in an expression of incredulity. “What? Like what?”

“They can be friendly, optimistic, full of hope. There’s something kind of romantic about the American Dream, the belief that anyone can make it if they work hard enough. It might not be realistic, but it’s idealistic. I like that.”

Evan narrows his eyes and leans forward. “So what about me?”

“Whataboutyou?” I laugh. “You don’t count.”

“I don’t count? What do you mean, I don’t count? I’m American, aren’t I?”

“Yes, but,” I shake my hands, trying to think of the best way to explain what I mean, “you’re not anAmericanboy, you’re a… aSpearcrestboy.”

I laugh and realise at exactly that moment that even though I’m not quite tipsy yet, the wine has definitely loosened my tongue a little. I make a mental note to reel myself in, because I’m not about to have another repeat of the party disaster. But there’s something about talking with Evan without a filter that’s somehow more intoxicating than the wine itself.

“So what you’re saying is that you wouldn’t refuse to date me on the grounds that I’m American, but rather on the grounds that I go to Spearcrest?”

I shake my head, then realise he’s not completely wrong. “Right, yeah.”

“You realise you go to Spearcrest too, right?”

I nod. “I wouldn’t date me either, if that’s what you’re asking.”

He sits back. “Oh my god, Sutton. You’re drunk.”

“I’m not drunk. I’m not even tipsy. I’m just being honest.”

“Okay. Alright. Then how about this: what if a guy asked you out, and you liked him, but he was from Spearcrest?”

“Don’t be stupid,” I say, pushing aside my empty bowl and grabbing some more bread. “That would never happen.”

“Because you’d never like a guy from Spearcrest?”

“Because nobody in Spearcrest would ever ask me out. You made sure of that.”

“Oh.” Evan looks away for a moment. His cheeks go several shades redder, as if he’s blushing. I narrow my eyes at this unexpected reaction, but then he turns back to look at me. “Isn’t that what you want, though?”

I let out a bark of laughter. “What, to be a social pariah because you and your shitty friends picked me out to be your personal pinata for the last few years? No, that’s not really what I want, Evan.”

He frowns. “We didn’t—come on, we never went too far. Mostly it was just teasing.”

“Teasing? You insulted me every chance you got, made my life a fucking nightmare for years and somehow made me out to be both a freak weirdo lonerandan attention-starved social climber.”

“Well, you didn’t help yourself, did you?”

It’s my turn to blush and stumble. “What are you talking about?”

“Sucking up to the teachers, being a prefect and ratting everybody out, acting stuck-up all the time just because your parents work at the school.”

“It’s almost as if I was putting in the effort to make sure I would leave Spearcrest with excellent grades and references, something you and your millionaire mates clearly don’t worry about. And—and stop saying I’m stuck-up, I’m not stuck-up!”

Evan raises his eyebrows. “You think you’re better than the rest of us because our parents make our lives easy and we don’t ever have to do anything for ourselves or face consequences.”

“But that’s the truth!” I protest angrily.

My face is hot and I’m no longer laughing. Even though I don’t want to be, I can’t help but be offended that Evan thinks I’m stuck-up.

There’s a difference between having dignity and self-worth and being stuck-up, and Evan doesn't seem to be understanding that.

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