Jet Set by Carrie Karasyov Page A

million years put two and two together. Calm down.”
    I stormed back to my room. I suddenly felt really dirty and ashamed of even knowing about Sofia’s capers. I went online and found a message from Friend that read:
    Hi there, Lucy. Did you have fun at Jazzmatazz? You seemed to be enjoying yourself on that dance floor  Into that guy?
    A smile crept across my face, as I certainly would never talk to Sofia about such things. The jury’s out , I typed. How about you? Did you have fun? I hit Send and looked out the window, feeling my heart race with nervous anxiety. When I didn’t get an immediate response, I took to the only place where I could get out my aggression: the courts.
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    I think I hit the ball so hard I could hear little tiny screams coming from the fluorescent furry Wilson casing.
    â€œWow, that’s some serve,” I heard Oliver call. I turned to find him picking up a ball in the hopper—something only the assistants normally did.
    â€œHi, Oliver. What’re you doing here?”
    â€œSame as you, I suppose. Just wanted to keep going, you know, blow off steam.”
    â€œYeah, well, you got me. I certainly have been stressed out lately,” I vented.
    â€œCourse work? Or…other things?”
    â€œNot so much the academics, thankfully. Just other stuff, I guess.”
    â€œListen, I’m here if you ever want to talk. I know how it goes here. It’s a bit of a hornet’s nest, this school.”
    â€œYeah, well, I just hope I don’t get stung.” I smiled. “But thanks, Oliver. I appreciate it.”
    â€œWell, Lucy, I’ll leave you to your serve crunching, then.” He patted me on the back, smiled sweetly, and went to the court next to me with his full ball hopper. We made our serves for another hour, occasionally glancing at each other, an unspoken easiness settling over us.
    It would be nice to talk to someone about what was going on, but I felt strange opening up to Oliver, given his gentle attempt to warn me about Antony. I knew he was nice and was trying to be my friend, in a way, but why would he shoot down anotherguy? It was so out of the blue. It was clear Oliver was into Angelina, not me; they were always together. So what would be his problem with Antony? I had to get to the bottom of it, and fortunately the opportunity presented itself sooner than I thought.

Chapter Eighteen
    A few days later, Antony called me for brunch, and I met him for a feast of chef-prepared pain perdu (aka French toast; perdu means “lost” in French, as in the bread gets lost in the egg, and subsequently my thighs). He was very flirtatious on the phone, and I remembered how much fun we had dancing at the club. Maybe this could turn into something. Still, my feelings for Antony were conflicted. He was a handsome guy, witty and charming, and had more social ease than most guys I knew his age. I was flattered that he seemed interested in me. Guys werenever exactly beating down my door, and quite frankly his attention made me semiswoony. But okay, full disclosure: even though I knew the prince (i.e., Oliver) could get any princess he wanted, there was something about him that made my heart flutter. Watching him on the tennis court could make me faint, he was so graceful. He was nice to me when no one else on the team gave me the time of day. And he was, after all, a prince. I mean, weren’t we all raised on Cinderella stories?
    That said, Antony was still interesting to me. We ended up having a really nice time at brunch, and then he walked me down the path to my dorm.
    â€œSo how are you finding it here?” Antony asked as we approached the garden.
    â€œI like it. It’s, you know, different. I’m not really used to this kind of scene.”
    â€œI know, I know. I can imagine it would be very different from the places you grew up,” said Antony.
    â€œ That’s an understatement,” I said, nodding.
    â€œThis