Page 60 of Five

I am not a princess. He is not my prince. We are never—ever—gonna get that happily ever after.

But… and this is a huge but… I am Rory Shrike, oldest daughter of Ron the Bomb and Spencer motherfucking Shrike. So I will deal like the woman they raised me to be.

I take another deep breath as I pull into the parking spot that says ‘Sister Rory’ on a pink and gray sign near the entrance, and do that.

Full-fledged senior member of the Palladium Eating Club House, bitches.

Only forty people are included on that short list. Twenty lucky bitches and twenty lucky bros. Palladium House is the most exclusive eating club here at Princeton, and I’m in.

I square my shoulders and lift my chin, getting ready for all the questions coming my way the second I walk into that building. And then I get out of my car and walk around to open up the back to grab my shit.

Tera has ignored me all summer up until this morning when she texted to say she was here and when was I arriving.

I texted her once, back when I was still adjusting to my new normal, just to feel her out after that whole thing with Cliff. But she never texted back. So I withdrew. It’s not like I wanted to talk about what happened with Five and Cliff, anyway. Not like I even could, either.

She’s not in the parking lot, thank God. I need a moment to gather myself. Ravel up all those unraveling threads and be normal.

As normal as one can be after a girl’s fantasy is shattered.

“Rory!” some of the other girls start calling near the back entrance to the house.

I wave and smile as I approach. All fake, of course. But they don’t need to know that.

And then I see him. The one man I don’t want to see.

“Cliff,” I say, unable to hide my surprise. “What are you doing here?” What is he doing here? I mean, come on, buddy. Don’t you have a law school to attend or something? I really don’t need this kind of confrontation on the very first day back.

“I was just dropping Tera off,” he says, taking both my hands once he’s close enough to pull me into a hug. “I’m sorry about the way I left things in Colorado,” he whispers in my ear.

“It’s… OK,” I say, pushing him off me as gently as I can. “I think.”

“Did you have a nice summer?” Cliff asks, still holding my hands as he gazes down at me.

Nice? No. I would not call it a nice summer. “Yes,” I say. “It was perfect, actually.” I’m so not in the mood to—

“Rory!” Tera is dashing across the parking lot screaming my name. “Rory! Oh, my God! I thought I’d never see you again!”

She crashes into me, almost knocking me down—if Cliff hadn’t conveniently been there to catch us both—and wraps her arms tightly around me.

“Holy Jesus motherfucking fuck, Rory Shrike!” Tera squeals. “I’ve missed you so much. I have so much to tell you about this summer. Why didn’t you call me…”

I look over my shoulder at Cliff to find him smiling and waving. “I’ve got your bags,” he calls, as Tera continues to lead me towards the house, talking a mile a minute.

“You’re so lucky you stayed home this summer. The Hamptons, OMG, Rory. It was all drama. Jason Blumenthal—remember him from last year? Well, he got together with Sylvia P. Not Sylvia R. I know they’re easy to confuse since they both have that ridiculous platinum hair and big tits, but Sylvia P. And you remember what her dad does?”

I don’t need to answer. Tera fills me in on all the details of Sylvia P and Jason B’s summer fling. And by the time we get up to my room on the second floor of the house, I’ve learned all I need to know.

Drama.

I’m so glad I stayed away this summer as well. There’s no way I was ready to come back to this. I’m not even sure I’m ready now.

But I do like that she just blew past all the awkwardness of beginning of summer and jumped right into the new awkwardness of back to school.

“So what do you think of the room?” Tera opens her arms up wide in a ta-da gesture. “I had all your stuff brought over from storage this morning.”

It’s a nice room, I have to admit. Large and exquisitely decorated in muted tan and pale blue. The furniture is all high-end designer. And there’s even a make-up vanity in one corner with a beautiful antique mirror. The perfect place for a princess to get ready for a night out.

“It’s… great,” I say, forcing myself to act excited. I don’t give one fancy fuck about this room. I’m here on autopilot. That’s all.