Stuck With The Four Hotties

My actions were not entirely honorable.” He steps back from me and sighs, and if he were anyone but a brand-new transfer to the school, I’d think he was in on it, like he’d set the drowning up just to save me.Exclusive © material by Nô(/v)elDrama.Org.

“Well, thank you anyway,” I say, and we stand there staring at each other for several moments more until Zack clears his throat. All I can think as I fumble my key out of the pocket of my robe is that Windsor’s mouth was on mine, and I was too out of it to remember. Somehow, focusing on the not- quite-a-kiss thing keeps me from realizing how deep this shit goes.

The Infinity Club is out for my blood. Literally.

I head inside … and everyone follows.

Instead of fighting it, I embrace the fact that I’m not alone, letting Zack tuck me into bed before Miranda crawls up on top of the covers and cuddles me. Jessie glares which is hilarious because, unfortunately, I’m as straight as an arrow. If sexuality were a choice, I would one hundred percent choose to be a lesbian. Not only would life be easier, but I’m pretty damn sure Miranda is much safer dating choice than anybody else at Burberry Prep.

Windsor leaves to grab his-get ready for this-personal tea pot, cups, saucers, and a random assortment of his prized loose leaf teas, so he can make us a proper afternoon tea, complete with finger sandwiches he swiped from the kitchen.

The guy’s been at Burberry for all of two weeks, and he’s managed to charm his way into the librarians’ hearts, the kitchen staff, and the campus maintenance shed. Just yesterday, I walked outside and saw him leading a girl into the building where they keep all the lawn mowers and things.

Perv is right.

After we eat, Miranda puts on Not Another Teen Movie which makes everyone in the room groan.

“This is my mom’s favorite movie,” Zack says, but we all end up relaxing and watching it anyway. It’s still funny, even if it’s old.

“Next year, I’m going as Janey Briggs for Halloween,” Miranda declares, sweeping her blonde hair up into a ponytail to imitate the main character’s infamous ‘glasses, ponytail, and paint-covered overalls’ look. I give her a

look because we all know she absolutely will not go like that. She won’t wear anything on Halloween that isn’t cute and at least a tad revealing. She says she doesn’t subscribe to the short and slutty rule, but she does, and she likes. Nothing wrong with that though.

“You Americans and your Halloween,” Windsor drawls, sitting in the chair in the corner. He’s the only person not on the bed which is fine by me. I’m having enough trouble remembering how to breathe with Zack sitting so close to me, his huge

body practically engulfing mine.

The three of them are standing there, dressed in their matching but oh-so- differently-worn uniforms. Tristan’s is spic and span, creased to the heavens; Zayd’s is wrinkled, mussy, and unbuttoned from neck to navel; Creed’s is clean and fresh, but gently tousled like he’s just woken from a nap.

My throat goes dry as Tristan crosses his arms over his chest.

“What happened today? We can’t get a straight answer from the girls. I want it from the horse’s mouth.”

“This horse was almost killed by your fiancee and her besties today,” I snap, starting to shake. Something about seeing all three of them together like that … I feel both rage and melancholy. Rage because I feel like no amount of revenge will ever be enough. I want more. I want to tear them down and break them until they come to me on their hands and knees, begging for release. And yet … I miss them, too. Terribly.

Life is confusing, and it sucks.

Tristan strides forward, but Windsor puts out his boot, blocking him. That’s another thing I’ve noticed: Windsor York is the only guy at this school who wears boots instead of loafers with his uniform.

“You can’t come in without the lady’s permission,” Windsor says, his voice coloring with a threat. “This is her space, not yours.”

The King of the School bristles, and sneers, but there’s something else going on with him that I can’t place. He’s practically shaking.

“We want to talk to Marnye-alone.” Tristan stares Windsor down, but instead of buckling like most people do, the prince just smiles.

“That’s up to her. Ask nicely and maybe she’ll say yes.”

“Like, bro, who the fuck are you?” Zayd snaps, pushing Tristan out of the way and pausing in the door. He glances over at me, and to be honest, he looks like shit. He actually looks like he might puke all over the expensive rugs Kathleen Cabot bought for my dorm room floor. I’m walking on more money in here than my dad has in my college fund. “You just moved in here, and you think you know shit about what goes on?”

“I know the Infinity Club owns this school,” Windsor begins, ticking things off on his hand. “I know they’re desperate to have me as a member, but I’ve refused over a dozen times. I know that you’re all part of the Club, and that you used poor Marnye here as a pawn in one of your asinine bets.” He shrugs his shoulders as pretty much every pe

rson in the room gapes at him.