Grayson gripped my chin. “Do you know what today is?”
“T-The Swan Swell,” I stammered.
“Time to test that big ear of yours.”
Seven
STORY
* * *
All my years at Crowne Point I’d never been to a Swan Swell party at the Hall. It happened every year and was one of their more extravagant events. A little-known dirty secret: while we have a native swan population, more beautiful swans were imported to swim in the fountains, and silver and white glitter was brushed on their feathers so they shimmered in the air. Women spent the whole year designing their bespoke feathered white dresses.
And everyone looked bored.
At least, those surrounding Grayson Crowne.
“Let’s go, Gray.” A girl with heavy lashes and heavier lips wove her arm around Grayson’s batting her eyelashes.
“I called dibs tonight.” Another girl wove her arm around his free one.
Grayson shook them both off without a word or glance, reaching into his back pocket for a cigarette. Still, they lingered at his side, watching him with gleaming eyes. They all did. Grayson had a quorum of people who hung on his every movement, just waiting for an order.
I recognized them, the way I recognized all Grayson’s friends who visited the Hall, but I wasn’t certain of their names, couldn’t match them to faces. They were all beautiful, made to be on magazines and in movies.
I knew two of the boys specifically. They had the same impeccable features and bored, entitled air of Grayson, but more subdued. Nothing could match Grayson. I’d seen them the most and knew them to be Alaric and Geoff, but I just didn’t know who was who.
I should be getting information about Charlotte, but Grayson wouldn’t let me leave his side.
Not like anyone would notice me.
I might as well be one of the fountains to these people.
And what about Lottie? What about everything I’d been through the past fucking twenty-four hours? She was only just across the fountain, watching Grayson. Charlotte “Lottie” du Lac was a fairy tale princess, with a crown of braids and a dress of flowing white feathers.
I knew the look she wore because I’d worn it myself. It was uncertainty born of heartbreak. She cared about him. I was certain she did.
Gray either was oblivious or didn’t care. Impossible to tell. It looked like he wanted to be anywhere else. With his head down and his suit jacket folded to the forearm, tie discarded, the top few buttons on his black dress shirt undone, he was something out of The Great Gatsby.
“She’s staring at you,” I whispered quietly. “Just go to her.”
No one noticed me lean forward; no one noticed me period. If Grayson heard me, he didn’t acknowledge it.
The models and influencers took selfies; they played a game of rock-paper-scissors for who would go home with Grayson, then posted a video of that game. Grayson just kept staring out at the inky ocean, as if he weren’t even here.
“Get the fuck out of here,” Gray said suddenly.
And like that everyone stood up and left. Gray decreed it, so it happened.
“Save some for the rest of us Playboy Gray,” Alaric-or-Geoff said, chucking a gold leaf truffle at a swan as he walked away. It narrowly missed the swan’s head, but still caused it to flutter nervously.
Curiosity grew in my gut. Was I the only one who knew the truth? No, that’s impossible. But his grandpa thought he was fucking me. If he was anything like his sister Abigail, I would bet his mother didn’t know. Was I the only one who knew Grayson Crowne was a virgin? I thought…I thought I’d just stumbled into a secret that wasn’t meant for me.
No, I was certain he’d told his friends.
Gray eyed me from behind his lit cigarette as a swan feathered its wings behind him in the fountain. I quickly looked away.
I was getting caught way too often.