Stuck With The Four Hotties

It’s Monday now, and Charlie’s just left. We have about two weeks until Halloween, and no idea what to do for costumes. No idea what we’re doing to celebrate either. As the Bluebloods of Burberry Prep, we have to throw a party to hold our title. Period. That’s how things work, but where? Windsor’s mom-who, if you think about it, is a freaking princess, right?-is staying at the house we used last year. Tristan’s been disowned, the Cabots and the Kaisers don’t have a place close enough, and Zack’s mother is having their vacation home renovated.

We’re going to have to think up something creative.

“You’ve been ignoring my texts all weekend,” I whisper, but Zack shakes his head, holding up his palms.

“Never, Marnye. Never. You don’t understand: my grandfather and my dad were here this weekend.” I raise my brows; I’ve never met Zack’s dad, but I hear he’s a prick. He frowns hard and looks away from me briefly. “It didn’t go well.”

“They’re mad about the game?” I ask, and Zack shakes his head, looking back at me with his mouth in a tight, flat line. He exhales, closing his eyes and reaching up to ruffle his short, dark hair with his fingers.

“Not exactly.”

I wait for him to elaborate. He doesn’t. I decide to address my issue first then.

“I said no violence, Zack,” I whisper, because I don’t want to win this thing by resorting to their tactics.

He looks back at me, and at least I can tell that his face is etched with shame.

“I didn’t know about the glass,” he says, shaking his head. “But none of the staff knows Corb actually stabbed him; they all think there was some debris in the grass.”

“I saw you pay Corb to hurt Jalen,” I tell him, crossing my arms under my breasts. Zack studies my face and sighs, like he has no excuse for what he’s done. He looks down at the floor between us, and closes his eyes for a moment.

“I’d do anything to protect you,” he says, lifting his head up and opening his eyes. “Jalen was dangerous, Marnye. You don’t hear the locker room talk that I hear.” He looks right at me, lifting his head up. “Yes, I paid Corb to take Jalen down harder than necessary, but I didn’t know about the glass. If it

makes you feel better, Jalen broke a glass bottle against Corb’s brother’s face at a Hamptons party this summer. A piece of glass cut his carotid artery; he almost died.”

We stand there, facing each other, but I don’t know what to say. I’m conflicted.

“Sometimes you can’t fight darkness with words, Marnye.” Zack tucks his big hands into the pockets of his letterman jacket. “There’s … a lot going on that you don’t know about.”

“Then tell me,” I plead, “because I literally just read a manga with a plot like this. The guys kept the information away from the heroine until it was too late, and then …”

“Infinity Club rules,” Zack growls out, like he’s in serious pain. He pulls his hands from his jacket pockets and braces my shoulders with them. “If we tell you, we lose a serious advantage. And we can’t lose this, Marnye.”

“Zack …” I start, as he slides his palms down the arms of my black blazer. “My grandfather doesn’t want me to date you,” he whispers, and my heart seriously chokes. It breaks and stutters in my chest, and I look up at him

with my lips parted in surprise.

“Why not?”

“My mom loves you, Marnye. She loves you. My sister likes you, too. It’s just … my dad and my grandpa …” he trails off, this aching desperation etched into his face. “The only thing they’ve ever agreed on is this.”

“Why …” I start, and Zack steps back, releasing me suddenly.

“I shouldn’t have broken your rules without talking to you first,” he says softly, his voice surprisingly rough with emotion. “That was my fuck-up. But, Marnye, I would do it again if I had to. I’ll do anything to protect you, even break your rules.” He looks back up at me, and I suck in a sharp breath. He’s too freaking beautiful for words. Too goddamn beautiful. “But I understand if you’re pissed at me.”

“I’m not pissed, but you guys can’t keep doing things behind my back. What’s so much worse than the Harpies trying to get me to kill myself? Than trying to drown me in the pool? Zack …” I step forward and put my hand on his chest, and he covers it with both of his. He’s unbelievably warm, and when I lean into him, his scent soothes my nerves a little. “What’s so much worse?”Exclusive content from NôvelDrama.Org.

“Marnye …” Zack wraps his arms around me, tucks me into his jacket, and holds me close. It feels weirdly like a goodbye hug, and I don’t like that at all. Not one tiny bit. “Let’s just graduate, and run off to Bornstead, huh? You can be the smart girl on the cheer team, and I’ll play football and sneak into your dorm room at night …”

“What about your family?” I ask, but Zack says nothing as I lean back and look up at him.

“I don’t care what they think, or what they want. This is my life, not theirs.” He pauses as Creed pops out of The Mess, leaning his back against the door to hold it open.

“Miranda’s got it,” he says, and I raise both brows. I feel a little sick with emotion right now, but I wring it out by shaking my hands and taking a deep breath before I force a smile to my face.

“Got what?” I ask, and Creed smiles, slowly, seductively, in a way that warms me from the inside out, chasing away some of the dark shadows.

“Our Halloween costumes,” he says as Miranda comes panting over, reaching out to grab both my hands in hers. Those blue eyes of hers are sparkling.

“Royals,” she says, grinning big. “We go as royals: princes, princesses … kings and queens. What do you think? You can wear the crown we got for your birthday. It’s the perfect eff you to Harper, seeing as she and her cronies are trying to coin the term Reigning Royals. So stupid. The Idols and their Inner Circle have ruled this school since …” She pauses and then grimaces slightly, looking to me for confirmation.

“Since it was coined by William Vanderbilt the First, in 1919?” I suggest, and Miranda squeals, throwing her arms around my neck and giving me a sweet-scented kiss on my cheek.

I don’t miss Zack’s dark look as he studies me though.

He says he doesn’t care what his family thinks, but maybe he does? A

nd I’m sure he’s not the only one.