“What are you doing here?” I groan as I rub at my nose, looking up at him with a scowl. “We’re not exactly friends.”
“Only because you don’t want to be,” he says, eyes, face, and voice dark and unreadable as always. My attention goes straight to his mouth, remembering that one, fierce make-out session we had during our brief dating session, and the magical way his tongue traced my lower lip.
Shivers take over me, but I’m not interested in Zack or Creed or Tristan or Zayd. Not anymore. Screw them all. Zack’s sins might be older than the other boys’ transgressions, but honestly, they’re almost worse. He made me want to take my life, him and Lizzie. I exhale. The only reason she’s not on my list is because she doesn’t go to this school, and I have no way of getting back at her. Zack is on it because I always have a connection to him because of his friendship with my dad. But now, at least, I’ve got him right here in front of me.
“Please move,” I say, tucking my bookbag against my chest. Zack stares at me for a moment, and I can’t help but notice that scent of his, sporty and cool and well-rounded. It gives me butterflies and that just pisses me off, too. “Move.”
“You don’t have to be on my side, but I’m on yours,” he says, but I’m done listening, so I brush past him and continue on down the hall and around the corner.
At breakfast, I pull out my journal and start writing furiously. There are so many things I need to say with messy cursive between those lines. The girls are in The Mess, but the boys are nowhere to be seen. They watch me as I eat, voices muted, hatred muffled.
With the extra security provided by the school, we're all going to have to be careful. It's why I'm not making my move until Friday, at the first party the year.
The door to The Mess opens, and Zack walks in, pausing briefly, eyes landing on me before he makes his way over to his own table. A few minutes later, Miranda and Andrew appear, taking up seats across from me.
“What are you planning on doing?” Miranda whispers as she leans in to look at me, white-blond hair swinging forward and brushing across the table. The color reminds me of Creed yet again, but I don't let my thoughts go there, so I smile instead.
“Whatever do you mean?” I ask grinning sheepishly. I close the journal with a smack, making sure to take extra care to secure the lock and slide it into my bookbag. Andrew watches me the whole time, one brow raised.
“Well,” he begins looking from Miranda to me, “Miranda here thinks revenge is best served hot and steaming, but I think it's best served cold.” Andrew gives me a slow, easy smile, and I can see how I thought he was flirting with me those few times. He's a genuinely open person, naturally friendly and charismatic. I guess my gay-dar just doesn't work properly. “But you are planning on doing something to the Bluebloods, aren't you?” He leans his forearms on the table, and his smile gets a little bigger. “Let me in on it, please. They already kicked me out …” Andrew exhales, like he’s just remembered his own fate. When he looks back at me, it's with a slightly more serious expression. “I want to be a part of this.”
“You know we’re going to help you, whether you like or not,” Miranda says, leaning back and tucking her hair behind her ear. “So you may as well tell us all about your genius plans now.” She attempts a hair toss, but it fails miserably. I grin.
I'm not about to tell Andrew and Miranda anything, especially not the fact that I’m not putting my trust in anyone this year. I can barely trust myself. I decided I needed to make a stand, that I needed to make the Bluebloods pay, that I needed to pave a spot for myself at the school. But it's a slippery slope, and I don't want to end up like them. It took me a long time to find out who I am, and an even longer time to start to like the person that I’m becoming, so I can't let this ruin me. It's going to be a challenge. For now though, I’m going to keep any thoughts of revenge to myself.
“Oh, if I’ve got something planned … you’ll see.”
On Friday, I intend to show them, what, exactly I’ve got up my sleeve.
The first week of school comes to a close without any major events. There are too many staff members in the halls, and even though I turned down that bodyguard guy, Kyle or Keith or whatever, he’s still around, acting like the Burberry prep campus cop. It doesn't stop the girls from saying things to me as they pass in the hall, but all I do is smile. I know what I’ve got planned.
The Idol boys seem to be going out of their way to steer clear of me. Whether that's because they're having a hard time facing up to what they did (doubtful) or because they hate me so much they're not sure if they can control themselves in my presence, I’m not sure. For whatever reason, I see very little of the three boys I started falling for last year.
Zack, however, is a different story. He sits next to me during the morning announcements and in every class we share. On Friday, as I’m getting ready for the party, he shows up at my door again.
I check the peephole and sigh, throwing the door open and moving back, so he can step inside the room. He’s so freaking tall and wide, he takes up the whole space with his presence. My heart skips a few beats before I manage to get a hold of myself. It helps that Andrew’s lounging on my bed, and Miranda’s in the bathroom spinning her long hair into curls. My rose gold locks are twisted in gentle waves around my face, hair-sprayed to hell, and covered in glitter.
Zack looks me over with those dark eyes of his, taking me in from head to toe, his face entirely impassive. He rarely shows emotion. The face he has on now could be the same one he used when he was tormenting me at Lower Banks. Hell, it could be the same expression he wore when he cupped my face in his big hands and kissed me on the mouth. My first kiss. Our last kiss.
I cross my arms over my chest, fully aware that I’m wearing nothing but a robe with lingerie underneath. Don’t get any ideas: the lingerie isn’t for anyone but me. It makes me feel more confident.
“You look good, Reed,” Zack says, wearing his letterman jacket with a tight black t-shirt, dark jeans, and shiny new sneakers. He looks like a million bucks. His outfit, as unassuming as it is, probably costs about the same. “Off to the party, I’m guessing?”
“What do you want, Zack?” I ask, looking at him and wondering if he’s here out of guilt, worry, curiosity, all three? I don’t need him to pay attention to me because he feels like he has to. And I didn’t need him to transfer here out of some sick sense of duty. He can be as nice as he wants to me; it doesn’t change anything. His name is still on my list.
“Let me be your backup,” he says with a loose shrug of his massive shoulders. The movement makes the muscles in his chest shift, and my eyes catch on the fabric of his tee as it strains with the motion. Good god. No wonder the coach was okay with taking a second year onto the varsity team. Zack is bigger than every other guy at this school, including the fourth years. I bet he crushes dudes on the field. “The staff doesn’t know about the party tonight. It’s going to be rough.”
I smile.
That’s exactly what I was hoping for, I think, but I don’t say anything. Miranda comes out of the bathroom and pauses, looking Zack over carefully. She hasn’t made up her mind about him one way or another. And by that, I mean she hasn’t decided if he should drown in an icy lake or burn up in a fiery explosion.
“What the hell do you want?” she demands, sauntering up to stand beside me. She’s so regal, and daring. Her replacement in the Inner Circle is a girl called Ileana Taittinger, a first year who became an instant dislike for me when she told me I was too ugly to be a Working Girl on her second day of class. I’ve added her name to my list. Andrew’s replacement has yet to be determined, but I’m sure whoever he is, he’ll be another one for the books.
“Let me drive you to the party tonight. I won’t hang too close, but at least let me help you make an entrance. You know those guys hate my guts, right? They’ll fucking hate seeing us there together.” I snort, glancing away toward where Andrew’s waiting on the bed. He’s still dressed in his uniform, and even though he hasn’t said anything, there’s this eagerness in him. I think he’s excited to see Gary Jacobs at the party.
“Why do they hate you so much?” I ask, cocking my head to one side and studying Zack. “I mean, they warned me off of you before they even made their stupid bet. Clearly, that wasn’t out of fondness for me. What is it about you that disturbs them so much?”
“My brother might be a cruel jerk, but he would never take it as far as you did. You almost killed Marnye. You’re irredeemable, Zack. Get fucked.” Miranda tosses her hair and smacks me in the face with it. I brush strands away from my glossed lips as she turns on her heel and storms back to the bathroom.
“So you think Creed’s redeemable, huh?” Zack asks, reaching up to rub at his lower lip with his thumb. “You think that bet’s the worst the Infinity Club’s ever come up with? You’re definitely drinking from the cup of naivety when it comes to your twin.”
My brows go up as Miranda turns right around and marches back into the room, blue eyes narrowed to slits. Wow. She looks just like Creed when she does that. A shiver overtakes me, and I cross my arms like I’m hugging myself.
“What exactly does that mean?” she snaps, the words flicking off her tongue like a whip. I cringe a bit, but Zack just stands there, staring at us both.
“If I could tell you, I would.” I snort at that and he flicks his gaze over to me. “What? It’s the truth. The day they told you what Lizzie and I did, I’d already come up with a plan. I was—”
“—going to tell me out of pity and guilt? That’s not good enough for me, Zack.” I exhale sharply and raise my chin defiantly. Our eyes meet, and a small thrill goes through me. He looks sorry, like really freaking sorry. There’s a depth to his sorrow that makes my blood sing. Good. Good, let him be sorry for what he did. “If Lizzie hadn’t changed the terms of the bet, what then? What would you have done?”