Stuck With The Four Hotties

“Thank you for these. You always give such thoughtful gifts.” My hands are trembling, and my heart is racing. Pretty sure those are the only words I’m going to be able to get out. I like Zack now, I really do. Part of me wishes he really was my boyfriend. Maybe, later, he can be. Just not right now.

“Are you going to the garden party?” Zack asks softly, but I’m already shaking my head. I have a few deliveries to make: small care packages for each of the Idol boys with an attached, handwritten note. I miss you. It’s the best I can do. I’ll deliver them while they are all at the party, so I don’t have to see their faces when they read it. If one of them were to reject me outright

… I can’t think about that: my dad’s wellbeing is on the fucking line.

This Valentine’s Day is so different than the last one. All I can think about is Zack and how much I want to go and dance with him. Yet, I’ve got my bet with Harper, and I need to keep the Idol boys from seeing too much of me with him.

Like I told Windsor: I’m not about dating anyone just now. It’s all so confusing.

I exhale and Zack stands up, turning around to look at me with a small smile.

“Hey, it’s okay. I get it.” He knows about the bet-he’s the only one-so I look up with an apologetic expression that I hope he understands. “Get some rest and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Thank you,” I repeat again, blushing furiously when he leans down and kisses me hotly on the mouth. Zack turns and leaves, and I curl up on my bed with my roses, my tickets, and some chocolates that Miranda gave me.

It’s best if I leave the boys alone on such a romantic day. I’m already confused enough as it is.

The following week, the staff acknowledges Tristan and me in the morning announcements as the honor students selected for the spring Paris trip. Part of me wants to refuse, so I can go home and be with my dad, but he assures me that he’s feeling much better and that I should go. I feel selfish as hell, but I know the trip will give me a good opportunity to bond with Tristan. He’s the most difficult of the Idols to find any time alone with. He’s always surrounded by fans … or Harper. Although I haven’t seen them touch each other since the drowning incident.

“Don’t you wonder when the girls made that bet?” Windsor asks me as he escorts me to cheerleading practice. I shrug. The thought had crossed my mind, but what does it matter? I’m not going to hurt myself like that ever again. The Idols can do their damned best. By the end of this year, I’ll have secured treatment for my dad, the boys will have learned a valuable lesson, and then next year … I might have to use next year to focus my revenge- attention on the girls.

“I suppose. Why?” he shrugs like it doesn’t matter, but he’s got this mischievous smile on his face that scares me. “Don’t go getting any ideas. Plans as delicate as mine can’t be rushed.”

“Sure they can,” he says as he opens the door to the gym for me. “You’re just too … high-class about it. Don’t wait around for them to give you ammo. Make your own.”

“No.” I look him dead in the face. “If it takes me the rest of my Burberry career to finish that list, fine. I’m not going to stir shit up where there isn’t any. Every single one of the Bluebloods has dirt that will rise to the surface eventually.”

Windsor looks skeptical, but since we’re at the gym already, the conversation is over. He’s not allowed in anymore after the girls got so distracted by him during the last practice that they dropped a first year girl during our stunt routine. She’s okay, but her twisted ankle is the size of an eggplant. Same color, too.

“Whatever you say, milady,” he says, sweeping a dramatic bow just before the door closes.

With a sigh, I head inside and try to focus on keeping my own ankle un- twisted. Having a head too full of boy thoughts is distracting.

At least by the time Friday rolls around, Tristan has started showing up at my orchestra rehearsals again. The first time he does, our eyes meet from

across the room, and it’s like this connection between us that was pinched and shriveled opens up, and blood begins to flow all over again.

He smiles at me from the back row, and even though it’s far away and hard to see, I almost think it might be genuine.

Maybe.

Of course, the rest of the time, he’s still very much an asshole.

“Windsor York has no business on this trip,” he snaps as Ms. Felton raises an eyebrow and hands us both our passports back. I wouldn’t even have a passport at all if Burberry Prep didn’t require one for admission. I got it last year, tucked it away in a drawer, and assumed I wouldn’t be using until I was thirty.Upstodatee from Novel(D)ra/m/a.O(r)g

Looks like I was wrong about that one.

“No business on this trip?” Windsor pouts with a little moue. “Why, Mr. Vanderbilt, I’m bloody hurt. Don’t you know I lived in Paris for years?” Tristan looks irritated, but he says nothing, instead keeping his attention on our teacher. She’s seated behind the desk in her office on the top floor of Tower One, looking between the two boys and sighing.

“You know there’s a student guide every year, Mr. Vanderbilt, and this year, it is Burberry Prep’s turn to provide that student. There’s no one here besides yourself who has his level of experience. I’m sorry you two seem to be having a problem with each other, but as your actions at the end of last year were less than savory, I think you should just count your lucky stars you’re even a student at the academy at all.”

Tristan’s jaw clenches in frustration, and he flicks a glance my way before leveling his glare back on Windsor. The prince is just smiling away, happy as a clam. He’s loving this moment way too much.

“Now, Miss Reed, I’ve asked you this in private, and I’m going to ask you again: are you sure you’re comfortable attending this trip with Mr. Vanderbilt. If not, he will be replaced with the third-ranked student in your grade, and given alternate trip arrangements.” There’s a long, tense moment where Tristan, Windsor, and Ms. Felton are all staring at me.

If I were on my regular revenge track, I’d probably take that opportunity to boot Tristan out of the travel group. The thing is, he’s been to Paris before, and he can afford to go whenever he wants. It wouldn’t be such a big hit to him. But seeing his face at the graduation gala when I reveal my bet with Har

per? That sounds so much better.