Welcome to Bridgeport Academy, an elite boarding school in New York where glamorous rich kids don't let rules get in the way of a good time.
[ Based on the It Girl series by Cecily Von Ziegesar ]
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Chris stretched out on his bed and listened to the sounds of guys returning from sports practice, their adrenaline-pumped voices echoing through the dorm as they headed for the showers to get cleaned up for dinner. Jermaine, his roommate, was out having dinner with his parents, probably getting drunk with them on the red table wine.
He turned the volume up on his iPhone and let the sound of Jay-Z fill his ears. He was excused from mandatory team sports because of Credo, and he would have been out riding her this afternoon if he hadn't been avoiding Robyn. He didn't know what it was that had changed between them exactly, but a year ago he hadn't been able to keep his hands off her. He would have jumped at the chance to spend some quality time before dinner snuggling in the privacy of the stables. Now he couldn't even face answering her emails or messages. What the fuck was his problem? Why was he being such an asshole?
Because he'd met Kae. Chris smiled to himself at the thought of her. It was inevitable that he'd tell Robyn, but couldn't he put it off just a little longer?
The sound of high heels dinging up the dorm's marble stairs could be heard over the sound of Jay-Z rapping. "Damn," Chris murmured under his breath. It was time. He shut off the music.
The door flew open and there stood Robyn, in all her fury, looking beautiful and slightly deranged. "What are you doing here? Did you not get my messages?" Her left eyelid twitched a little, like it always did when Chris pissed her off enough. He tried not to smile. He still loved her. Always would. Especially when she was mad. "I skipped out of field hockey early so I could meet up with you, and you don't even bother to show?" Robyn's hair was pulled back in a clip, and she had clearly taken time to clean up for him after practice. She looked a little too neat and polished in her short gray wool skirt, black tights, and black leather riding boots. As far as Chris knew, she had given up riding when she was seven, even though he had tried, many times, to get her on Credo. The smell of her shampoo reminded Chris of the salons where his mother and all her girlfriends spent entire afternoons getting their hair and faces molded into something completely unrecognizable.
"I'm sorry. I'm really sorry," he said lamely. He sat up, noticing how out of place Robyn looked in his disaster of a room. Crumpled boxer shorts and jeans covered the floor and a banana peel lay on top of his eight-drawer dresser, level with Robyn's face. She saw it but ignored it.
"That's all you can say? You're sorry?" Robyn pulled the clip out of her hair and shook her head so that her 22-inch bundles fell in thick waves around her shoulders, something that usually drove Chris wild. She gazed in his familiar eyes, trying to figure out what was different about them. Maybe the way he was looking back at her?
"Wait. You're sorry about blowing me off or..." Robyn's heart started to pound so hard it felt like it would break free of her chest. Running from the stables to his dorm, she'd been furious, ready to punch Chris in his beautiful face but also ready to accept his explanations or excuses, provided they came sweetly enough, and with plenty of kisses to smooth it over. Now it sounded like smoothing it over was the last thing on his mind.
