Freya Arsov sits on top of a world of diamonds and sports cars. Her father is a billionaire, head of a world-renown company, her mother, an esteemed lawyer. She attends the most prestigious boarding school in England. She has four amazing best frien...
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JULIET WOULD NOT MEET HER FATHER'S EYES.
Instead, she focused on sawing through her lamb— or as the menu wrote it, Agneau delait des Pyrénées— with much more force than was necessary. Amelie looked at her out of the corner of her eye, wary that she might saw through the table.
But Juliet wasn't looking at her. She was looking at the fat rock on Candice Hargrove's finger.
The air had been tense from the moment they'd sat down. But Juliet has been silent for the most part, letting the adults guide the conversation. She had minded her tongue, her attention far too involved on that ring.
Amelie's mother must've known she was staring at it for she had a nervous smile on her face the entire time.
Edward talked, but not to her, wisely so. If he spoke to Juliet, she wasn't sure she could keep her tongue in check. Amelie, however, impressively managed to do so, but her smile was as fake as Ivy Forrest's platinum locks and they both knew it.
"How's sixth form treating you both so far?" Edward asked. His eyes traced to Juliet but she provided no answer.
Amelie answered for her, but it was a little weak. "We've barely been able to leave the library," she chuckled, taking a long sip from her water glass. She left out all the parts about gangs and drug-addicted best friends, with good reason. But for the most part, it wasn't a lie. They did get an unrealistic amount of homework every day and Juliet somehow always found herself rushing it down during the class it was due.
When Candice spoke, Amelie's smile dropped. Juliet hadn't been smiling to begin with though.
"But surely you take breaks? It can't be all work, no play, Melie?" ventured the woman gently.
But her gentle tone didn't soothe the look on Amelie's face as she used a nickname Juliet had never heard used for her friend.
Juliet worried Amelie might snap there, under her mother's kind stare. Their history ran deep, after all, deeper than what ran between Juliet and her father right now. But Amelie had always been a good liar. It was easy to assume she'd learnt it from Freya but Juliet suspected this was a skill she'd taught herself. Or perhaps she'd inherited it.
Amelie loosed a breath, calming herself. She smiled down into her plate of riso venere as if she couldn't manage to look at her mother. "I appreciate your concern," said Amelie, very slowly. "But no, it's not all work."
If Candice was aware of her daughter's strain, she gave no indication, leaning forward so her pretty blonde curls brushed the tabletop. "Oh? I'm glad. Any boys?"
