“And what position, exactly, is it that I’m in?” I ask, crossing my arms over my baggy t-shirt. As soon as the guys swarmed my dad’s new little rental home in Grenadine Heights, I changed clothes. My party dress from last night is now in a plastic bag near the front door. I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to wear it again.
I shiver.
Zack notices and his face softens. He’s got three stitches in his forehead, a swollen left eye, and a seriously puffy lower lip. I mean, puffier than normal. He’s always had a nice, full mouth …
“The five hottest, richest guys at the academy, all right here in your boudoir,” Windsor purrs, standing up from his position in the corner and sliding his palms down the front of his short-sleeved, pale blue button-down. “You now get to make the tricky choice of deciding exactly who you’d like to bunk with during the summer.”
“Assuming my dad says I can go,” I insert slowly, my eyes catching on Tristan’s gray ones for a moment. He’s not engaged to Harper anymore! Part of me wants to run in the bathroom, close the door, and squeal. The rest of me … has no idea why he’s even here. Zayd, either, for that matter. Windsor is my friend; Zack has a crush on me. What about Creed?
I try my best not to look at him because every time I do, I think about the way his eyes looked when he cornered me in The Mess that day. “Avoiding me won’t do you any good.” He notices me looking and lightly rests his fingers under his chin.
“She’ll stay with me, obviously. She can room with Miranda. My sister won’t accept anything less.”
“Bullshit,” Zack snorts as he shakes his head, eyeing the three Idol boys warily. “You can’t make that decision for her.” He doesn’t trust them anymore now than he did yesterday. But … maybe I do? Hell, I’m not sure. I’m not sure about anything at this moment. Well, except for the fact that Dad’s at work. He’s a pretty chill parent, but I don’t think he’d appreciate me inviting all these guys over while he’s not home, particularly when all but one of them have been involved in bullying me.
Oh, and I’m pretty sure all of them are man-whores, too. Charlie would most certainly not appreciate that part of the equation.
“No doubt I’ll be alone at my place,” Zayd interjects, his emerald gaze dark with emotion as he eyes me from across the room. There’s this broken sort of tenderness between us that feels even more difficult to traverse than the shit I have to deal with in regards to Tristan or Creed. “And I’ll give you the master upstairs, so you won’t have to see much of me … unless you want to.” His already husky rockstar purr gets a little rougher, a little more strained.
“It’s probably best you don’t come with me,” Tristan says, his voice this cold thread of steel. There’s a throbbing sort of anger inside of him that I can see quite plainly in the tightness of his shoulders, the ticking muscle in his jaw, the heat in his gray eyes. He keeps it pretty well-contained though. “My father doesn’t know that Harper and I broke up, and I’d rather nobody but me was around when he finds out.”
My heart clenches, and my nostrils flare. That sounds like a really, really bad idea to me. I don’t want Tristan to get hit again. If I had my way, I’d follow him around forever to keep his father away. Maybe I should go and stay with him? But only if I might be able to help, not if I’ll make things worse.
“Why are you even here then?” Windsor asks, putting his hands on his hips and looking down at Tristan with an expression that reminds me of a cat stalking a rat. Tristan glances up at him and scowls.
“We have a common enemy now, don’t we?” he snaps, and Windsor raises his red eyebrows.
“Wait, wait, wait, let me get this straight: you’re here because of … Harper?” He just stares at Tristan, but the king of the school simply crosses his arms over his chest and says nothing. “You’re not at all interested in that girl over there?” Windsor points in my direction, and I flush. “Because I’m pretty sure that’s what all these other assholes are after: they want Marnye.”
The sound of the back door opening startles me, and I stand up from the edge of the bed just in time for Charlie to appear in the hallway. He sees me and starts to smile … and then notices the cadre of well-dressed boys in my room.
“Marnye,” he starts, brown eyes taking in the guys with surprise, anger, and then disgust. “What are these three doing here?” His voice is a hard snap, and I cringe. My dad is glaring at the Idols like he’d kill them if he could, snap their necks and toss them onto the driveway for the seagulls. He hazards a wary glance for Zack, too, and then looks at Windsor with confusion before turning back to me.
I open my mouth, but no words will come out.
A loud knock interrupts us all, and the sound of a door being thrown open is followed by Miranda's voice calling out.
“Marnye?”
“In here,” I reply, holding my breath until she rounds the corner to my room, face flushed, floral skirt flying. Miranda has her phone clutched in one hand, a purse strung over the opposite shoulder, and a glare laser-focused on her twin.
Creed stares back at her and narrows his ice-blue eyes to slits before she turns away and throws a smile in my dad's direction.
“Hello, Mr. Reed, sorry I'm late.” She grins, and I grimace. Her attempted cover-up is a little too peppy and excited. “I love your new home, by the way.” Dad smiles at her, but he's still not happy with me, tucking his fingers into his overalls pockets and glancing my way again.
“Thank you, Miranda. But Marnye still needs to answer my question.”
Wow. This is literally the most strict I've ever seen Charlie Reed in my life, and just before I turn seventeen, too. My heart skips a beat, and I glance at Windsor as I consider what, exactly, I should say to get out of trouble. Without having to lie, that is. I raise an eyebrow at the prince, and he raises one back at me. Something about him makes me want to tell the truth, and it just tumbles out.
“My friends are here to invite me to the Hamptons,” I say, and there's something surreal about that phrase. We're in California currently. The Hamptons are on the opposite side of the country, in the northeast. That means packing, a plane ride, a place to stay, parental supervision. Err, at least some pretend parental supervision.
“The Hamptons?” Charlie asks, and then he narrows his eyes slightly as he tries to think about where that is. “You mean in New York?”
“Sir, if I may,” Windsor says, stepping forward and stealing the show yet again. It's sort of a thing he does. “I'm Windsor York. I don't believe we've met?”
Charlie raises his eyebrows and gives him a look that very clearly says he's not buying what the prince is selling.
“I'm the president of the host club, to which your daughter belongs.”
“Host club?” Charlie asks, and pretty much everyone in the room groans. Wow. Windsor's making a joke about a very specific Japanese anime show called Ouran High School Host Club. There's a main female character surrounded by guys … basically a reverse harem sort of situation.
“A host club … is a group of students who mentor other students,” I explain, which is true, but also sort of … not. More accurately, it's a group of people who are paid to be attentive and talkative with their clients, or even possibly paid to date, cuddle, or kiss. Not exactly prostitutes because there's no sex involved, but similar. I don't confirm or deny if Windsor's telling the truth and forge on. “They all want me to come to the Hamptons this summer.” I pause and point at my bestie. Creed was right, I suppose. “I'd be staying with Miranda.”
She grins, squeals, and then throws her arms around me in a huge hug.
“Marnye,” Charlie continues as he meets my eyes. “That's not the problem. What are these three doing here? I don't want them in my house.” He looks up and meets Zack's eyes. “I'm not sure I want him here either.”
“They're trying to make up for what they did,” I blurt, and as soon as the words leave my mouth, I know they're true.
“That may be so,” Dad sighs, “but I’m sorry, the four of you need to leave.” There’s a tension in the room that’s making my stomach hurt. Somehow, the idea of my dad hating these guys bothers me even though it shouldn’t. I mean, I’m thrilled that he’s standing up for me, that he loves me enough to care, but …
“Please let me go to the Hamptons.” The words fall out in a blur as Zack, Tristan, Creed, and Zayd rise from their respective seats and pause. I’m not even sure why I’m begging. Do I really want to go, knowing that Harper and her cronies will be there? Besides, Dad is sick, and I should stay … but what if I went for a weekend, a week at most?
Clearly, there’s trouble with the Infinity Club, and with the girls. What if I could get that sorted out during the summer and start fresh? Bullshit, Marnye, my brain interrupts. You just want to spend time with them. With all of them.
“I’d be staying with Kathleen and Miranda,” I continue, and Dad’s gaze swings right to Creed. The boy’s shoulders stiffen, but thankfully, he keeps his cavalier little mouth closed.
“Isn’t the Cabot boy one of your bullies?” Charlie asks, looking at Creed with such a pained expression that my hurt hearts for them both. “Why?” he says suddenly, turning from Creed to Zayd to Tristan, and then swinging over to Zack. “Why my little girl, my heart?” Dad’s face tightens up with such a strong mix of anger and sadness that I take a step toward him. “Marnye’s had a hard life, with my idiot ass getting drunk, and her mother …” Charlie exhales, closes his eyes, and opens them again. “Why did you have to pick her, of all people? What did she do to deserve your hatred?”
“Sir.” The first person to speak up is Creed, surprising me. Dad glances his way warily, meeting those ice-blue eyes dead-on. “There’s no excuse for what we did. We picked on Marnye because she was poor.” Dad bristles, but Creed carries on as if he doesn’t notice. “We thought she was an easy target; she’s not. Mr. Reed, your daughter is strong.”