Stuck With The Four Hotties

“Why can’t you breathe?” Zayd asks as he swaggers up to us, his tie missing (he probably got a mark for that from Ms. Felton), his sleeves rolled up and showing off his glorious collection of tattoos. He reaches up to muss around with his fiery orange hair as he looks between the three of us.

“We’ve both just asked her out,” Zack declares, pushing off the locker and standing up straight, his letterman jacket on his broad shoulders. He has football practice three times a week now (has been having practices in Cruz Bay since before school even started), so he probably can’t stick around too much longer. He won’t be able to have dinner with us until the season’s over. And even then, only until track and field starts.

“You asked her out?” Zayd sputters as Zack moves around us and heads toward the back door and the golf carts waiting to drive him and the other boys out to the field. In about two weeks, I’ll have cheerleading practice on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Since I tried out last year, I don’t have to go to tryouts this time, but until Coach Hannah is done choosing new recruits, I’m off the hook. Maybe she’ll actually feel confident enough in us this year to let us compete?

“Yeah, so … if you were planning on it, you’re a little late.” Zack shoulders Zayd out of his way, and the rocker boy sneers, flipping him off and mumbling a string of dark curses under his breath. The way he looks at me after that scares me a little. If he asks me out next …

“All of this posturing and the she’s mine, I love her, so on and so forth bullshit, it’s entirely useless.” Windsor is just there suddenly, leaning casually against a stone column like he’s been there all along although I swear he’s just materialized.

“Oh, is that so?” Creed snaps back at him, running long fingers through his white-blond hair. “And you’re the proverbial expert?”

“You’re terrible people, all four of you. Why on earth would someone like Marnye want to date any or all four douchebags who bet against her heart and her life? Hmm?” He stands up and saunters over to us, pushing red hair off his forehead with his palm until it sticks straight up. “Shall we shelve thisAll content is property © NôvelDrama.Org.

conversation for later? Harper’s already spreading the word about a party on Friday.”

“And we’ll be crashing it,” Tristan says, appearing from down the hall. He pauses, narrowing his gray eyes as he senses the tension in the group. Or maybe he just notices the look on my face. One part shock, one part confusion, and the rest … excitement? “What’s going on?”

“I asked Marnye out,” Creed drawls, slumping back against the lockers and crossing his arms over his chest. He looks out at Tristan from heavy, half-lidded eyes and smirks. “So did Brooks.” Tristan stares at Creed, and the tension between the two of them is thick and toxic. They’re still competing with each other, even if they’re not completely aware of it.

“Oh?” Tristan echoes, his voice as cold and gray as the stones arching above our heads. He stands there, all perfectly tailored and put-together, but there’s a tightness in his jaw that he can’t hide. “Is that so?” He turns his sharp attention from Creed to me. There’s so much in that gaze that it feels like my knees might buckle. “What did you have to say about that Marnye?” “I’d say … if you guys are fucking with me again, I won’t just let you hang yourselves with your own rope; I’ll braid some new shit. Miranda, walk me back to my room?” I glance over and find my bestie gaping at me before she nods abruptly and scurries over to take my arm. Just before we go, I take in the small group with a stern sort of stare, ignoring the fluttering hormones in my heart for the time being. “Friday, after school, my room. We

need to have a little chit-chat.”

Dragging Miranda along with me, I head down the hall, and the boys watch me go.

After a minute, Lizzie jogs to catch up with us.

Miranda scowls at her a bit, but she’s never told me if there’s anything more to her dislike of Lizzie than the bet. To be fair, it was an awful, awful thing to do, but I’m not entirely sure that’s it.

“Are you … excited?” Lizzie queries, peering into my face as we walk. “Or angry. I can’t quite tell.”

“No, because you’ve barely spent any time together in person,” Miranda snaps, and I give her a questioning look. “What? She enrolls in Burberry, and suddenly she’s one of your buddies? Have you forgotten what she did to you?” Lizzie cringes beside me, but she doesn’t argue. “I saw you annihilate Zack in front of the entire school. He got kicked off the team. Granted, I don’t think it was enough, but how has she paid for what she did?”

“I …” The anxious little butterflies in my belly take flight and reveal a whole host of raw nerves I didn’t realize I had. “It’s complicated.” I invited her to Hookup Point so she’d see that Tristan was engaged, and then I notiFed she was hurting so bad that I Frossed her name off the list.

“Well, I’ll tell you what’s not complicated: I don’t trust Lizzie Walton, and I never have, not since we were kids.” Miranda pauses in front of my door- somebody’s already spray-painted The Brothel onto the front of it, how creative-and stamps her shiny black kitten heel on the stone floor like a child. She’s a sweet, genuine sort of person, but sometimes it’s pretty damn obvious how spoiled she is. “Hell, I didn’t trust her when we were in diapers.”

“Miranda,” Lizzie starts, putting her hands up in a placating gesture. “I’m only here to help. I transferred here to help.”

“Yeah, sure.” Miranda spins to me and puts her hands on her hips. “Did she tell how Tristan, Zayd, and Creed used to follow her around like puppies during the summer? But then she got interested in Tristan, and couldn’t bother giving her other friends the time of day. Creed was heartbroken.”

“Miranda, stop,” Lizzie says, curling her hands in her plaid pleated skirt. “That was a long time ago.”

“She dated all three of the Idols-Tristan, Zayd, and my brother for a whole season in the Hamptons.”

“That was years ago!” Lizzie finally snaps, raking her fingers through her dark curls. A weird thought occurs to me, a text from first year that I’d assumed was a typo. If I had any other FhoiFe, I’d still be with them. Lizzie had sent that to me. Holy … crap. “I’m engaged to Marcel now.”

“You look like you’d rather choke on that massive rock on your finger than marry MarFel Stone.” Miranda makes a gagging sound and rolls her ice- blue eyes. “Don’t lie and pretend you came here just for Marnye. You’re lonely, and you’re still in love.”

Lizzie flushes pink and starts to stutter. Miranda steps forward and Lizzie takes one back.

“You seem to have outgrown your fascination with Zayd and Creed, but the way you look at Tristan …” Miranda clucks her tongue and turns back to me. “I hope you know that if you’re interested in Tristan Vanderbilt, that you have direct competition. She’s playing the good girl now, but it won’t last.”

“Miranda,” I blurt, feeling my own cheeks color pink. Lizzie looks at us both for a moment with her face scrunched, turns, and takes off down the

hall. “What was that all about?” I say, a little flustered. I’m not sure if Miranda was just revealing a truth to me I didn’t want to acknowledge, or if she was on the attack.

Unlocking the door, I step aside so she can pace into the room. There’s no point standing out here alone. We might be safer as a pair, but if Harper brings her whole crew with her, we’re in big trouble. Actually, now that Lizzie’s run off, I figure I’ll have to walk Miranda back to the Towers and get a pair of the boys to escort me back to my room.

“She’s a snake in the grass,” Miranda declares, lifting her chin, looking very much like she deserves to be standing in this fancy prep school. I’d never guess new money. No, she looks like an aristocrat. “Tristan either wants to use her because she’s Idol material, and everyone knows who she is, or else he’s still in love with her, too. But don’t trust her, Marnye. Don’t.” Miranda lifts her shirt and points at the bare skin on her right hip. “I am the only one who isn’t in that stupid fucking Club. I’m the only one looking out for your best interests.”

“You don’t trust any of them, do you?” I ask, and she shrugs, dropping her shirt with a sigh.

“Andrew, maybe. Windsor.” She looks away as I set my bookbag on the edge of the bed.

“Creed?” I question, and Miranda grimaces like she’s in pain, turning back to face me.

“I don’t trust anyone when it comes to you,” she says, and I blink a few times in surprise.

“Why?”

The next thing Miranda Cabot does shocks the hell out of me.

She steps forward, skirts swirling, white-blond hair flowing … and then she grabs me by the face and kisses me. There’s no time for me to react before she pulls back, and we both hear a sound at the door. I guess Miranda didn’t close it behind her, and we look to see Creed standing there with his blue eyes wide, mouth open in shock.

“You don’t have to say anything,” Miranda whispers, hitching her bag a little higher on her shoulder. “In fact: don’t say anything. I have to go.” She moves to the door, pushes past her brother and takes off down the hall. Creed looks torn between going after her and staying there to gape at me.

“What the … ?” I start, putting my hand to my mouth. I’m so shocked, there are no words.

“Damn it,” Creed curses, grabbing the handle of the door. He looks right at me. “Lock this when I go, please.” He slams it behind him and leaves me alone to contemplate what just occurred.

I barely manage to get the deadbolt in place before I’m sagging onto the edge of my bed and then falling back to cover my eyes.

Yep.

I knew it.

Th

ird year … is going to be the hardest one yet.