It takes a few seconds, but she finally opens the door, her eyes narrowing at me as I grin like a fool.
"I hate you, you know."
I can't help but snicker quietly while motioning for her to follow me. She comes willingly, and I swear I hear her stomach growl. Good. I did something right.
"I'll grab some plates," I say as I head to the cabinets. I quickly grab two clear plates, before turning back around. She's still embarrassed.
She's staring at the bar when I put a plate in front of her. She looks adorable in a shade of crimson blush.
"I thought you'd be at the club longer," she mumbles, frowning.
"I don't ever stay long. It's business. Same for my parties. I hang out until the sobriety is gone, and then I head to my room for the rest of the night. Everyone got drunk earlier than usual tonight."
It's the truth, well, except for the last part. Everyone was just getting started when I left, but I refuse to tell her that. That would just make things awkward, and I like this relaxed version of us.
"Business?" she asks, bringing her eyes up to meet mine as the blush slowly starts to slip away.
I smile while pulling the burgers out, and her eyes zero in on them like a starving woman. I definitely did something right. Finally.
"Yes, business. My parties aren't for me to sow wild oats. I have fun sometimes, and let loose, but most of the time I'm earning contacts. Though Adam, John, Mandy, or Carla might seem like hell-raisers right now, in another few years, they'll be climbing high in whatever company they choose."
I can't believe I'm telling her this. Only my family knows about this shit. If she told people, they'd stop coming. No one wants to feel like a tool. I need to shut up.
"Pedigree rights," she says, but she has the decency to cover her mouth and look regretful.
I shrug, trying not to act offended, as I carry on about my task. I refuse to let this night go sour just because of her feelings toward my finances. It's obvious it bothers her, considering all her past snarky remarks.
"Ped
igree sometimes plays a part. Most of the time they're actually brilliant minds. There aren't a whole lot of people in an Ivy League college because they're stupid, Raya. One day, I'll need to call them, and they'll remember these years at college. Same for them and me. Business. You don't get to the top by hard work and brains alone. You play the game. Nothing else matters if you don't play the game."
"So you play games?" she asks, making it sound a little flirty.
That shouldn't make me so damn happy. It's much better than the bitter comment she made moments ago.
"When I have to," I say, giving her a small wink before I open the cabinet to the glasses.
"So, you came here to be close to your family and to play games with the other socialite offspring?" Nothing flirty about that tone. Back to bitter.
I tense in front of the glasses.
"Sorry. That came out a little... harsher than I intended," she says when I don't respond.
I slowly turn back around to meet her apologetic eyes. It's obvious we need to address this, because I'm sick of it causing tension. People having money is apparently an issue for her, but I'm not going to continue to take the brunt of her resentment.
"Is it just me you hate, or all of us?"
She sighs as a touch of guilt weights her, acting as though she feels chastened, or maybe Sweet Raya is coming back out.
"I haven't had the best experience with the upper class. Take this week for example. Until today, most of the campus has been running their mouths about me. The ones making my life hell weren't scholarship students."
She has no idea how pissed about that I've been, but at the same time, she's really off base with the whole campus thing. So, in an effort to lighten the heavy air, my clenched jaw loosens, and I force a smile.
"There are thousands of students here. It's college—not high school. Only a tenth of the population even know you exist. Don't be so dramatic."
Her face falls.
"Well, the ten percent who know I exist seem to be everywhere."