The new Bluebloods of Burberry Prep.
Creed steps aside as I approach, and opens the door for me, blue eyes watching as I slide in across the sumptuous leather seats. He comes in after me, but Zayd's close behind, crawling over to take up the position on my left.
We had sex; I actually had sex with him. My cheeks flame, and I suck my lower lip under my teeth.
“Hey,” he purrs, leaning in close, a huge grin plastered on his face. I can smell his sage and geranium scent mixed with the faint whisper of tobacco as he presses up close against me. “Are you daydreaming about all the naughty things we did?”
“Fuck off, Kaiser,” I choke out, but my mouth twitches slightly at the same time Creed scowls. We didn't just have sex, we were downright fucking naughty. My body tingles as I remember Zayd's tattooed hands on my hips, his pelvis grinding me against the speaker …
If the Marnye Reed I was three years ago could see me now, well, she would be well and truly shocked at the transformation. The thing is, what we did was fun. It was consensual. It felt good. There's nothing wrong with that.
“I'm surprised she didn't dump you immediately after seeing your tiny dick,” Creed drawls on the end of another yawn. “It's so little, at first I thought a girl with a weird clit had snuck into the boys' locker room.”
“Aww,” Zayd purrs, putting his hand over his chest, “that joke might've worked before we slept together, but now that Marnye knows how skilled I am, some virgin boy is going to have serious trouble catching up.”
“Better to be a virgin than some diseased man-whore,” Creed snaps back, but Zayd just throws his head back and howls with laughter. “Seriously, man, screw you.”
Zayd stops laughing just long enough to catch his breath, leaning back against the window that separates us from the driver. He rests his inked fingers against the side of his face and smirks in this smug, satisfied male sort of way that would be infuriating if it wasn't so damn sexy, too.
“Don't be mad that we all know your secret. You kept it well. I was convinced you were an even bigger man-slut than Tristan.”
“Please and kindly, shut the fuck up,” Tristan says, tapping his fingers on his thigh. Lizzie is sitting on his right, but I can't decide if that was by her design, his, or just purely accidental. I remember sitting next to him in the limo last year, and my heart clenches painfully.
“His majesty is trying to think,” Windsor says, speaking up and tapping the side of his head with a single finger. “It's not easy for him, so please, quiet while he concentrates.”
Windsor's newest favorite thing to do is call Tristan his majesty in the most dry and sarcastic voice known to man. It's really heightened the tension between them, and I'm left wondering yet again how long I can do this, keep this ragtag little group of ours together.
“Be nice, Windy,” I tell him, feeling this rush of anxiety sweep over me as the car pulls up to the courtyard steps. The Towers loom above us with their white stone walls, and the flags on the side of tower one whip in the wind. There's an American flag, a California state flag, and a flag that features the academy crest on it. In the center of the courtyard, the bronze stag statue stands proudly, water pouring into the serene circle of the fountain.
“We've got this,” Zack whispers, noticing my expression. He shrugs out of his letterman jacket and passes it over to me, making me smile. I take it and slip into it, his grapefruit and nutmeg scent surrounding me like a familiar hug. All the boys are watching, and none of them looks particularly happy. Even Miranda has her eyes slightly narrowed. Lizzie looks … kind of thrilled, actually.
“Don't show weakness in the halls. Save the squabbles for behind closed doors,” Tristan says as the limo comes to a stop, and Lizzie climbs out ahead of him. He's right behind her, with Miranda, Windsor, and Zack following behind.
“Don't stress,” Creed tells me, his eyes heavy and half-lidded. He curls his fingers through mine and runs his tongue along his lower lip. “Just focus on kicking Tristan's ass in the class rankings again.”
I nod, exhaling and letting Creed pull me from the car while Zayd follows along behind us.
I have to say, we make a fairly impressive entrance, all of us lined up in all black, bookbags held at our sides or over our shoulders as we march across the courtyard and the other students part like a wave.
That is, until we get in the hall and run into my sister.
Half-sister, or otherwise, I can't tell because Dad won't talk about it, but there she is, standing with a group of other first years … and Harper du Pont.
“Not even ten steps in the fucking door, and we gotta deal with this shit,” Zayd growls as he takes off ahead of us. He's not polite when he storms up to them and inserts himself into their little half-circle.
“Good morning, Zayd,” Becky spits out, giving him this poisonous look that sets me on edge. She has no right to look at him like that, especially not after she and her friends tried to drown me, and then attempted to brand me like chattel. “What do you want?”
“When Idols walk, you get the fuck out of the way.” He looks over at Isabella, and she returns his stare with a stony version of her own.
“Make us,” she says, tossing her glossy chestnut hair over one shoulder. Harper smirks, but Zayd's already gritting his teeth and nodding his chin in the direction of our new posse.
“Girls deal with girls, it's the rule,” Tristan tells me, putting his hand out to keep me from moving forward. Briana Chow and one of the new girls, Daisy Sandberg, I think it is, step up and go to grab my sister on either side. Part of me wants to defend her, but the rest of me knows the truth.
She's got that bully blood in her.
And I won't allow bullying at my school, not anymore.
“Get your fucking hands off me!” Isabella snarls as Ileana and Becky step in to defend her. The other girls on our side move forward until there's a bit of a stand-off.
For all the Bluebloods we destroyed last year—like Anna, Ebony, Sai, Greg, and John—Harper's recruited new students to take their places. This is looking to turn into a fight, especially when what's left of The Company shows up. Jalen looks ready to kill somebody, to be quite honest. Maybe because we got his girlfriend kicked out of school?
“What's the problem here?” Myron Talbot asks, seemingly appearing out of nowhere. His eyes are dark, and his face is as closed-off as Tristan's ever is. “When the Idols walk, you move.”
“We don't agree that they are the Idols,” Harper says, but even she looks nervous with Myron staring at her like that. He takes a step forward, and all the girls but Isabella and Harper move back.
“This isn't a debate, du Pont. Get your ass, and your new pet's ass out of the way.”
His threat doesn't dissuade Harper from her position. If anything, the move incenses her to step forward.
“I'm not moving out of the way so some trailer park slut with a magic pussy can drag her harem of assholes unfettered down the hall.” She flings a hand out to point at Tristan and hisses through her teeth. “A du Pont never bows down to charity cases, and they've got two of those in tow.”
I look up and see Tristan tightening his jaw in frustration.
“Get the fuck out of the way; I'm warning you.” Myron crosses his arms over his chest, and I sense violence coming like a storm. I step forward and everyone turns to look at me.
“It's okay. I don't need people to move out of my way. That's not a perk of the Idols anymore.” Harper narrows her eyes on me like she thinks I'm playing some trick. I stare her blue gaze down without flinching before I turn to Isabella. “She tried to kill me, you know, Harper did. She and her friends. So whatever it is you hate me so much for, ask yourself how far you're willing to go.”
I start walking and everyone else follows. Well, everyone but Myron. He doesn't move until Tristan pauses next to him and the two share some quiet words.
We head straight for the Gallery, and this time, we're there first. There's no locked door, no Gary sitting at the window smoking a cigarette and sneering at me. For the first time in four years, I walk straight through those stone halls, up the old steps, and over to the front of the balcony.
The feeling of standing up there, so close to the wall of stained glass windows, and looking across the sea of students in their black, white, and red uniforms is humbling in the best sort of way.
A smile curves across my face as Zack steps up beside me.
“Are you okay?” he asks, and I nod. “Even with your sister trying to team up with the Harpies?”
“She's hurting,” I tell him, glancing his way and meeting the narrowed dark slits of his eyes. He looks so tough all the time, with his big, broad shoulders, and that fierce gaze of his, but underneath, he's like a teddy bear. A defensive lineman teddy bear. Yep. “Once she gets past that, she'll see the Harpies for who they are.” I turn back around and look down, watching the wave of faces that turn as Harper marches into the chapel with her cronies behind her, and takes up the front row.
“This is a year that'll go down in Burberry Prep history,” Zayd says, pausing beside me and sitting on the railing in a way that makes me incredibly nervous. He flips Harper off when she glances our way, but she ignores him, nostrils flaring.
“It's a year that'll go down in Infinity Club history,” Zack murmurs, and the two boys exchange a look that makes me nervous.
There's more going on behind the scenes of this academy than meets the eye—and I'm determined to find out what that is.
The new cheerleading uniform for Burberry Prep is a midriff that shows off my entire belly. In my room, I take a moment to pace and freak out, but when I walk out into that hallway, I almost hair flip I’m exuding so much confidence.
There are no condoms on my doorstep, no spray painted words on my door.
Of course, I still have an escort. It’s too dangerous not to.