Stuck With The Four Hotties

For the first half of the day, the staff hovers, and Zack, Windsor, Andrew, Miranda, and I entertain ourselves with games-no stakes involved, sorry- and snacks. Once night rolls around, the Infinity Club takes over, and the staff becomes mysteriously absent.

Clearly, the damn Club has fingers in the Burberry Prep admin office, too. Harper and her friends disappear to get changed, and I start to sweat when the Idol boys are nowhere to be seen. They got in a car, that much is for sure,

but I haven’t seen them since.

“Relax,” Zack whispers as Windsor studies my face. Miranda and Andrew have gone to their rooms to change, too, so we have a moment to talk freely. “They’ll be here.”

“They better be,” I mumble, and Windsor and I exchange a look. While I’m distracted cleaning up the card game, he disappears like he always does, but I tell myself not to worry. He was there at the pool when I needed him, and he promised he’d be here tonight. Whatever needs doing, Windsor York will get it done.

When Harper and her entourage come down the stairs in glittering gowns with full hair and makeup, I take that opportunity to switch into my own outfit: a rose-gold corset and short, voluminous skirt to match my hair. Paired with some black heels, it’s a pretty damn cute outfit. I spent far more on it than I should have, but I wanted to look the part.

I wanted to look like a winner.

Heading back into the huge open lodge room near the balcony, I find Harper du Pont waiting for me. The main house is over sixteen thousand square feet, so it’s pretty easy to get lost. Maybe she thinks I’ll run off and try to duck out on our bet?

“So?” she asks as my heels click across the floor, and I come to stand in front of her, holding my clutch like a shield in front of my body. “Where are they?” My eyes scan the room and find Zack in the corner, arms crossed over his chest, leaning against the wall to watch and wait. Miranda and

Andrew are on the back patio, sitting around one of the fire pits with drinks in their hands. They don’t know about the bet, so they’re completely unaware of the tension building just inside the sliding glass doors.

The rest of the Bluebloods lounge on sofas and chairs in the room, watching me. They remind me of a vampire clan or something, pretty but dangerous. Elegant on the outside, blood-sucking demons underneath. My eyes narrow as Harper starts to pace around me.

Music begins to pour from the speakers, and the room fills with a huge crowd. There are second years, third years, and fourth years all mixed together. Doesn’t matter: they all know where the drama and action will be, and that’s wherever the Idols and their Inner Circle are.

Minutes tick past, and I sit down to wait. Almost an hour in, I start to get worried. I’m texting the guys, but getting no responses, and Harper is beginning to get impatient.

“You have until fifteen after,” she snaps at me, putting her hands on either one of the chair’s armrests and leaning in so close that I can smell her signature peach and vanilla scent. My stomach turns over with nausea, and Zack comes to stand beside me. “Fuck off, Brooks. This is Club business; you can’t do shit.” He growls at her, but he doesn’t move from his spot, flanking me like a bodyguard.

By this point, Miranda and Andrew have figured out that something’s up. “You did what?!” Miranda snaps at me when I tell her, and I cringe. “I

mean, it’s half brilliant and half completely and utterly insane.” She digs her own phone out, and starts to blow up Creed’s. “There’s no reason he shouldn’t be here,” she mutters, exhaling sharply. “He wouldn’t do something like that.”

By this point, news of the bet is spreading like wildfire. Everyone knows.

And they’re all laughing at me.

It takes the Idols until an hour and a half after the party’s supposed to have started to show up.

I shoot up from my chair as the three of them walk in, still dressed in their school uniforms.

Zayd is the first to spot me, and he makes his way right over.

“Car trouble,” he says, and then he’s scowling as Greg Van Horn walks in behind him. He’s whistling and spinning his keys around on his finger, and that’s when I start to wonder if the guys were supposed to get here at all.

Harper looks pissed. “Let me clarify: car trouble and phone trouble. Somebody stole our fucking phones.”

“Must’ve been a senior prank again, don’t you think, Harper?” Tristan asks, coming to stand right in front of her. “What the fuck is this all about? Clearly, you didn’t want us to show up tonight.” She shrugs her shoulders like she doesn’t know what he’s talking about.Content © provided by NôvelDrama.Org.

I glance back at Creed as he comes to stand beside me, his eyes taking in the crowded room and the eagerly glinting eyes of the Bluebloods and Plebs alike.

“Marnye?” he drawls, his devil-may-care voice sending chills down my spine.

Harper decides to take over, coming to stand so close to me that the fabric of our dresses mingles together.

“So, Marnye, which one of these men is your date for tonight?” I glance between the three guys, and then I look her dead in the eye.

“All three of them,” I say, as Tristan turns to look at us, narrowing his eyes before he glances at Creed, and then Zayd. That’s when I notice Zayd’s bag sitting near the door … and the stupid trophy from last year resting against it. Moving over to pick it up, I turn to face a suddenly silent room.

“Well?” Harper asks, looking at Tristan quite pointedly. She reaches up with her engagement ring and wiggles her hand around for everyone to see. “Tristan? Is that true? Are you this girl’s date? I mean, she bet you would be. All three of you. She bet she could make you fall in love with her. So tell me: did she succeed?”

Clutching the trophy, I feel my heart race as the Idol boys exchange looks. There are no fancy videos or cans of paint or panties to throw, but at least I got them here. At least I did it. That is, if they choose to tell the truth. One lie from one boy could sink me right now.

“It’s true,” Zayd says, nostrils flaring. He stands up from his spot on the chair and addresses the room. “I’m here as her date.”

“So am I,” Creed drawls, watching me clutch that trophy with a certain sort of acceptance in his blue eyes. Miranda makes a squeaking sound, drawing her brother’s attention. They share one of those silent twin looks, and I exhale sharply.

I figured … the Idols would be pissed off.

Zayd and Creed, at least, don’t seem to be at all.

“I’m done hurting her,” Zayd says, his voice so loud it echoes through the cavernous room. Becky is gaping at him, but he doesn’t seem to give a shit. “Sorry, but I quit the game. I won’t do it anymore. Let Marnye have the trophy and leave her the fuck alone.”

Harper’s jaw clenches as she turns to Tristan.

“I’m your fiancee,” she says carefully, stepping close to him and taking hold of the lapels of his wool coat. “And I’ve got William on speed dial. So tell me, Tristan, are you here with me tonight … or with her?” The leader of the Bluebloods looks from Harper to me, his gray eyes burning.

“You know I’ve never been a faithful boyfriend,” Tristan muses absently, tucking his hands into his pockets. “Not to anyone but Lizzie.” He looks past Harper and straight at me. “I’m here with Marnye, too. So whatever stupid shit

you bet her, give it up. You’ve lost.”