Stuck With The Four Hotties

I’m essentially hanging out with four of my bullies. Five, if you count Lizzie for making that bet.

“Why don’t you guys make an Infinity Club bet over bowling?” I joke, and I swear, everyone’s head whips right over to me. “Not an appropriate joke, huh?” I chuckle, but I’m the only one. “I could tell you about the history of this building? How it was built in 1892 as a brothel, funded by a rich railroad baron because he thought if the miners coming in for the gold rush had female company, they’d be less violent …”

“You can make jokes about the Infinity Club if you want,” Zack says fiercely, watching as I sip my milkshake from the red and white striped straw. “You were hurt by it the most. And I already told you: it’s sexy as hell

when you talk historical facts.” He grins at me, and then whips his varsity jacket off his broad shoulders, settling the skin-warmed fabric over mine.

My heart twists into a knot, and then dies from all the feels.

My cheeks flush red as I reach up to pinch the coat closed around me, feeling like a teen from the fifties or something, drinking a milkshake from the soda fountain and wearing her boyfriend’s varsity jacket in the bowling alley.

Not that Zack’s my boyfriend or anything. I mean, he hasn’t asked.

And even if he did, I don’t know if I’d say yes.

Shit, it smells like him, too, I think, doing my best to hold back a groan. Last time I wore his hoodie, I almost died from the scent. Sporty, but earthy, too, like musk and Fedar.

“Okay, lover boy,” Windsor says as he herds Zack toward the rack of bowling balls behind us. “Pick one and let’s get this game going. I quite enjoy kicking ass, even when there aren’t any stakes involved.” He grins, and I think about what he did to Ben. I mean, Ben deserved it, but still. I don’t think Windsor’s joking right now.

The game starts off with a bang, and I’m surprised to see that both Zack and Windsor are damn good bowlers. Fortunately, everyone else is mediocre

… and Tristan sucks. Like, he’s by far the worst.

“Something you’re not good at?” I ask with surprise as he gets another gutter ball and narrows those beautiful gray eyes of his on the lane. He glances over at me, but I’m grinning. “That’s a shocker.”

“I’ve never bowled before,” he says, and the grin falls right off my face.

Now I’m just gaping at him.

“You’ve never been bowling before?” I choke out, and then I find myself smiling again. “Well, there’s a first time for everything, right? You’ll get better at it.” Tristan stares at me like I’m insane, and then steps back so Lizzie can take her turn.

Her engagement ring sparkles as she picks up a gold colored ball.

“You’ve never let loose enough to try something like bowling,” she says, stepping forward, and prepping for her throw. She gives a slight smile before exhaling, focusing those amber eyes on the pins, and then releasing the ball like a pro. “Strike!” Lizzie squeals and bounces up and down, throwing her arms around Tristan’s neck.

He looks like he’s just been gut-punched.

I feel like I’ve just been gut-punched.

Lizzie pulls back, blushing, and then pushes some dark curls away from her face. She glances my way, but I pretend not to notice. Inside, my stomach is all twisted up with angst.

“Letting loose isn’t in my vocabulary,” Tristan says finally, and I cringe slightly.

Having sex in a publiF bathroom sure seemed like letting loose, I think sourly, not sure why I’m suddenly so worked up about it. Or in a janitor’s Floset on the first day of sFhool. My attention drifts slightly to Lizzie as Zayd makes his way up to the lane. Did she and Tristan ever … and if they did, do I really want to know?

Her amber eyes meet mine, and I flush.

“Ah, fuck a bunch of hairy goat balls,” Zayd groans as his ball bounces into the next lane. He slides his palms over his face while I laugh, smearing his eyeliner just enough that it gives him that sexy rocker look. “This game is harder than it looks.”

“That’s an interesting curse,” I say with a small laugh, covering my mouth and trying to ignore the anxiety that the Lizzie/Tristan thing gives me. She’s retreated back to the bench to sit next to Zack, but the King of Burberry Prep is still staring at me with those unnerving gray eyes of his. They’re the color of gravestones, aged and worn beyond his seventeen years, and full of so much more emotion than the stone they’re made of it.

“Yeah, well, I’m an artist,” Zayd purrs, and there’s just something about the way he talks that tells the whole world that he can sing. One day, I’d like to see him live. I bet he’s a real treat to watch. For a split-second there, I feel a sting of guilt over what I did. But then I remember the trophy, and how I wore his red dress, and then …

I exhale and shake out my hands.

I’m working on forgiveness here, not grudges. What’s the point of holding one? Take the actions you need to take, and move on. These blue-blooded Idols needed to learn a lesson; I taught it to them. Now, I let it go.

The girls, on the other hand, are a whole different story. School starts in just a few days; I have to be ready.

“Okay, sir artiste,” I joke, hefting my own ball from the track and licking my lower lip, “watch and learn how a pro does it.”

“You’re so going to regret that,” Zayd chuckles, folding his arms over his chest. When I throw a glare back his way, he lifts one tattooed hand and

waves it lazily at me. “Go on, Miss Bowling Expert Extraordinaire, and let’s see these pro moves.”

I scoff and turn back to the lane, doing this dramatic little run thing before I chuck the ball and watch as it warbles, twists, and then knocks over one single stupid pin before disappearing.

“Honey soaked beeswax balls,” I curse, and Zayd howls with laughter. Damn, I missed that laugh. He’s laughing so hard he’s bent over at the waist.

“Beeswax balls?! That’s your idea of cursing?!”

“Hey, it’s better than hairy goat balls,” I grumble, collecting my ball, and pausing as Zack steps up beside me. He raises his dark brows.

“Want some pointers?” he asks, and my heart starts to beat like crazy. I nod, and he comes up behind me, putting his big hands on my hips and making me shiver. He guides me to a specific spot, and then shows me how to hold the ball, where to place my fingers. “Since you’re the birthday girl, I’ll help you throw this first time. After that, you’re on your own.” He stands behind me, sliding his fingers along my right arm before leaning over my shoulder to brush a light kiss to my right cheek.

I almost melt right there in front of everyone.

Instead, I exhale and shudder as Zack helps me throw the ball in just such a way that I actually pick up a spare.Content is property © NôvelDrama.Org.

“Holy crap,” I blurt, grinning as I spin around and find him still standing way too close to me. We look at each other a moment before I duck past him and take up a spot on the bench between Miranda and Andrew. Seems like the sa

fest spot in the room, to be quite honest.