Stuck With The Four Hotties

When I first get home from the graduation getaway, I collapse on the bed in my new room, the harp Zack gifted me sitting against the opposite wall. I close my eyes and I’m out for a good twelve hours. When I wake up later, dry mouthed and in desperate need of water, I decide that I really am going to miss the Train Car. I’m proud of Dad for finding this house for us, and even in its modesty, it’s four times bigger and ten times nicer than the trailer park.

Still … change is hard sometimes, even when that change is good. It takes adjustment. And anyway, I can only live in one place: I have to choose.

Padding into the kitchen, I squint through the bright sunshine as I dig through the cabinets in search of a water glass. They’re all empty, so I move onto the boxes, tossing wads of brown packing paper on the floor. Once I find a cup, I fill it up, drink it all, fill it up again. And then I finally check my phone, scrolling past a text message from Dad letting me know that he’ll be home later tonight.

Last night was freaking insane, not to mention dangerous. Terrifying. I shake my head because I’m not ready to think about what might’ve happened. Instead, I focus on the positive. Later, I’m sure I’ll have a complete breakdown as the emotions roll over me.

I did it. I duped the boys. I won the bet. And yet … they stood by me anyway.

Thank god I have the summer to figure this all out, I think, just before the doorbell rings.

In bare feet and a wrinkled party dress, I pad over to open it, expecting a boy-free summer.

When I open it, there’s not one guy standing on my porch: there are five of them.

Tristan, Zayd, Creed, Zack, and Windsor.

“We couldn’t agree on who should come over and talk to you,” Tristan begins, glancing back at the other four. “So, unfortunately, we all fucking showed up.”

“Talk to me about what?” I ask, stepping back into the barren cavern of our new living room. Okay, so I say cavern, but really, it’s a pretty small room. It’s just way bigger than the Train Car. Seeing it filled with five gorgeous men-one of whom is a prince, one of whom is a rockstar, all of whom are rich as sin-it’s a little overwhelming.

The boys definitely do not move as a unit. Actually, there’s a palpable tension between them that makes me shift uncomfortably, sloshing water across the floor.

“We wanted to invite you,” Zack says, narrowing his eyes as Windsor immediately notices an old family photo that includes my mom, picking it up and examining it in that way of his.

“Where?” I echo, feeling like I’m the last one to get the joke.

“Pack your bags,” Zayd says with a grin, and I feel this strange pang inside my chest.

I did it; I completed my task and got revenge on the guys. What happens now?

“Pack my bags … for what?” There I go, echoing questions as I sip my water and try to orient myself to the fact that there are five of the sexiest dudes alive in my living room.

“We’re taking you to the Hamptons,” Creed drawls, draping himself over our ratty old couch. I blink several times to make that statement register, and then glance at my phone as it buzzes. Miranda is texting me in a frenzy, half in excitement and half in rage that her twin’s come over here without her.

“The Hamptons,” I say slowly, and this time, it’s not a question.

The Hamptons is the summer social hot spot for the Bluebloods of Burberry Prep. No, for any blue blood living in America. Lizzie will be there

with her Coventry Prep friends. Windsor will be there, too, apparently, bringing a bit of English charm to the beach.

“The Hamptons,” he repeats, slapping one of my dad’s straw summer hats over my head. “Get packed, milady, and get ready. Harper is out for blood- and not just yours. That shore is going to be bathed in crimson, either way. Let’s just make sure it’s not ours, shall we?”

I gape at him as he takes off after Zayd, the two of them exploring my house like they own the place.

Me, I’m still standing there in a short, rose-gold dress with a red plastic cup full of water and clinking ice cubes, pondering my fate.

Revenge is wicked sweet, but forgiveness is a virtue. Too

bad I’ve never been holy.

Share the new girl.

That won’t be easy, will it?This is from NôvelDrama.Org.

Especially not while trying to keep our thrones in the Burberry Prep social scene.

Marnye is learning to forgive us; the least we can do is protect her.

Let’s see who can make her fall in love first.

This time, there’s no bet. This time, it’s just our hearts on the line.

***

Take on the filthy rich girls-and do it with the help of the boys.

It’s us versus them, and it’s not going to be pretty. The king of the school, a pissed-off narcoleptic, a tattooed rockstar, a varsity football player, and a prince.

Five guys to back me up, five boys that give me butterflies.

They say they’ve changed their ways; it’s time to see if they can keep that promise.

His gaze is like iFe, but his fingers feel like fire.

I put my hands up to cover my face, but Tristan reaches over and tugs them down, sharing a private grin with me that I feel my lips suddenly desperate to match. We’re lying on our backs on the bed, panting, when the door opens and Lizzie Walton walks in.

“Shit, I thought that was locked,” Tristan says, sitting up and raking his fingers through his dark hair. It’s not so perfect right now. Instead, it’s all mussed up and as cute as I’ve ever seen it. Well, if yo

u could ever call Tristan Vanderbilt cute. Sexy, definitely. Tall, dark, and handsome. Sure. But cute?