Stuck With The Four Hotties

The burn on my arm is about the size of an apple, and it’s definitely second- degree, according to the Burberry Prep school nurse. She gives me a scolding about being careful with the iron, calls my dad, and makes me sit there while he fusses over me.

After word about what happened gets around, the attitude in the Plebs shifts. When I walk down the hall, people scramble to get out of my way. If I step onto an elevator, everyone else vacates. And for the time being, nobody sits at the high table but us.

“Harper’s not done yet,” Windsor says, lying back on the grass and looking up at the blue sky. It’s February now, and still technically winter, but today has been beyond beautiful, sunny and bright with hardly a breeze to be felt.

Thank god because I really needed it.

“Not even close,” Tristan says, looking at the checkered blanket and picnic basket like he’s never been on a picnic in his life. Hell, maybe he hasn’t? I cradle my arm against my chest, buried deep in thought. “Because the Plebs are so used to having three female Idols, I’ve put Lizzie and Miranda down as your peers,” he continues, and I lift my head to look at him, raising an eyebrow.

Zayd’s head is in my lap, and I find my fingers unconsciously digging into the lavender-ash color of his hair.

“To me, you’re the only Idol,” Zayd mumbles, and I grin. Miranda and Jessie have started seeing each other again, but Jessie feels uncomfortable acting like a couple in front of me. Seems everyone knows about my bestie’s crush. Maybe I was the last person to find out? And of course, I had to be hit over the head with it.

“Agreed,” Zack says, digging into a bag of pretzels, his eyes on me. “I’m assuming you three are going to be the Idols for the boy’s team?”

Creed rolls his shoulders in a lazy shrug. “Naturally.”

I don’t look at him. If I do, carnal memories will come pouring out, and sitting on the back lawn with dozens of students situated around the garden is not the place to start getting hot and heavy. Although, someone might want to tell Jasmine May and Chris Sanchez that.

“For the Inner Circle, we have you and Windsor,” Tristan continues, and Zack smirks.

“Naturally,” he mimics, and Tristan gives him a narrowed silver glare in response.

“To fill in the rest of the ranks, I’ll start recruiting from the first years mostly. They weren’t around for Marnye’s bullying, and we’re less likely to end up with a fox in the chicken coop.”

“Like you even know what a chicken coop is,” I tease, and he turns his gray glare on me. There’s a playful edge to it though that makes me smile.

“You were Harper’s fiancee,” Windsor continues, closing his eyes. “Tell me: now that she’s been backed into a corner, and we’ve taken control of the school, what happens next?”

Tristan says nothing, but there’s a faraway look in his eyes that I don’t like. I’ve never seen it before. He stares across the gardens with a sigh, and then shake his head, raven-black hair fluttering gently around his face.Belongs © to NôvelDrama.Org.

“She’s already made plenty of moves-we just don’t know about them yet.”

“Well, she can’t out my dad for sleeping with hookers or doing drugs: the whole world knows about that. And my grandma’s business is clean.” Zayd sits up slightly, leaning back so that his head is sort of pillowed on my breasts. I push him back down into my lap.

“I imagine we’ll find out at the next official Club meeting?” Zack hazards, and Tristan nods sharply.

“How often do those happen?” I ask, and Creed sighs.

“At least six times a year, sometimes more depending on the whims of the board.”

“There’s a board of directors for the Infinity Club?” I ask incredulously, and Creed nods.

“Both of Harper’s parents are on it. She’s a tough nut to crack.”

“Are you guys really going to get in trouble for all of this?” I lick my lips and wait for an answer, but none of the boys looks at me or gives it.

That scares me.

That scares me a whole hell of a lot.

Valentine’s Day brings equal parts revenge and romance.

The Bluebloods-and this time, I mean us and our new crew-spread a decree around the school that none of the Harpies or their Company boys are to receive roses. Anyone caught sending them is worse than a Plebian.

“This kind of politicking just doesn’t occur to me,” I say, pushing my plate away and picking up my ice tea. Zack, Zayd, and I are sitting in The Mess, eating dinner and getting ready for tomorrow. There’s the usual garden party in the evening, and now that we’re sitting on the Burberry Prep thrones, we have no choice but to go. Or at least we have to make an appearance.

“No?” Zayd asks, grinning and dipping his fingers into his ice water. He flicks some at me, and I flick some iced tea back at him. “Because, come on, pushing our cars into the pool? That was brilliant.” I grin and shrug at the same time.

“Sure, but that’s obvious. Of Fourse you’re going to be upset if your car gets dumped in a swimming pool. But not receiving some roses on Valentine’s Day? So what?”

“That’s why I like you,” Zayd says, tugging on one of his lip rings. “Because you don’t think like they do. You have no idea how much someone like Becky craves attention and approval from others. Not getting roses on Valentine’s is, like, the equivalent of being shaved bald for her. Trust me: this is sweet, sweet revenge in its finest form.”

The door to The Mess opens, and the other boys come in, talking up seats around the table. Creed slides his foot up my leg, and I flush, pretending not to notice. Last night, he snuck over to my room in the middle of the night, and we … well, he had a quick repeat of what happened at the hotel.

He came in and didn’t say a word, pushed my shirt up and over my breasts, sucked gently on the flesh, and slid in me with a groan that’s still ringing in my ears. Just thinking about it makes my nipples pebble to fine points. It’s all so new, all this physical affection. I get jitters just thinking about it.

“What are the plans for tomorrow?” Windsor asks, leaning back in his seat and folding his hands over the front of his uniform. I’m in love with the red jackets, the plaid ties, and the white shirts. I’m going to miss them. Then again, fourth year uniforms are solid black: black ties, black shirt, black jacket, black skirt/slacks.

“Hit the garden party, grab a table, and romance the shit out of our new girlfriend?” Zayd says with a grin, and Zack slams a palm onto the table, shaking the dishes. Everyone turns to look at him, his brown eyes narrowed to slits, his gaze focused on me. I shiver under the intensity.

“No.”

“No?” Creed echoes, and Windsor raises his eyebrows. Tristan looks bored, and Zayd looks irritated.

“What do you mean no?” the rocker boy asks, rubbing

his inked hand up his equally inked arm.