Stuck With The Four Hotties

But I’m not meeting his demands, and I’m tired of being hit. Send me the file, would you? I’m going to email it to his new wife.”

I nod again, and Tristan smiles tightly, giving Creed a saucy little wink before he leaves the way he came and closes the door behind him. Damn.

And here I thought those two might get down and dirty. Maybe later, at Bornstead U or something.

Not that I’m counting on it.

Once I tell them my choice, one or all of them might change their minds on what they want to do for college.

I sit back down on the bed, and Creed teases his fingers up my thigh again, the way he did in the library that one day. Only this time, we’re in my room together, and there’s nobody around to see. I take his hand and guide his fingers to the clasp of one of the garters, making him snap it open so the sock bunches around my calf and leaves my leg bare.

“You know, I was thinking … since we had our first time together …” “How could I possibly forget?” he purrs, pulling me into his arms and

kissing me with this lazy air of importance, like he has all the time in the world to do it. Maybe he does? Who knows? “What about it? You need to go over the basics again?”

“I was actually thinking we might tackle something new.” I stand up, pull out the blue dress he sent me during first year, and get naked, so I can dress myself in it. Creed watches me hungrily, running his tongue over his lower lip as I turn toward him, reach down and unbutton his black slacks. When I slide lower and put my mouth over his hard shaft, he definitely doesn’t protest.

Finals for fourth year Burberry Prep students are considered some of the most difficult in the country, on par with the academic standards of most universities. I’m sure I’ve bombed everything when Creed and Miranda knock on Zack’s door, waking us both up from a seriously important nap. We’re all so overworked, like we always are at this time of year, that sleep is essential.

“You did it,” the twins say at the same time as they step into the apartment together, and then glare at one another. They don’t often speak in unison like

that.

“Did what?” I ask on the tail-end of a yawn, feeling a little like Creed in that moment. Too bad my tired, boneless ass can’t elegantly drape itself across furniture like the arrogant blond brat in front of me.

“You beat Tristan,” he tells me, a sort of malicious glee coloring his voice at seeing his rival brought down a notch.

“What?!”

I shout so loud that Zack comes running, his sweats low-slung, his eyes narrowed to slits.

“This better be life or death,” he murmurs, but I’m already grabbing his hoodie and slipping it on over my tank. On our way down to the first floor, we grab Zayd, Tristan, and Windsor and then head down the chapel hall to look at class rankings for the last time.

Harper is there, but I ignore her. She can’t hurt me in a crowd this size. Besides, we only have a few days left until graduation, and I’m starting to wonder if she hasn’t finally given up.

I should’ve known better.

The crowd parts to let the Bluebloods through, and we all gather around to stare at the list.

There I am. Valedictorian.

I glance over at Tristan to see if he’s pissed, but he’s actually … smiling?!

Like, it’s a real smile, true and genuine.

“I’ve never been so happy to lose in all my life,” he says, and then I throw my arms around him and kiss him. Not just him either, but all of them. Windsor, Zayd, Creed, Zack.

“I feel like I should make us a round of-”

“Don’t say it,” Creed interrupts, putting two fingers to his temple. “Nobody wants your boiled plant water.”Nôvel(D)rama.Org's content.

“I was going to say cocktails, but since you just insulted the national beverage of my homeland, I should kick your ass before I serve them.” Windsor glances over at me, and flashes a blinding grin. “A mocktail for you, Milady, since I can’t exactly serve you a virgin drink anymore.”

“Hilarious,” I drawl with a roll of my eyes, but I let him take my hand anyway and pull me through the crowd. In typical Burberry Prep fashion,

there’s a party tonight, but it’s not one of ours. Actually, it’s being thrown by some very promising first years.

We attend as a group: me, my boys, Miranda, and Andrew.

I’m so pleased with the party itself, and the general camaraderie of the students, I give one of the girls my light-up star scepter.

“Have fun being an Idol,” I whisper as I turn and walk away, the entire crowd pausing in their reverie to watch my little group as we make our way out of the party, wearing our all-black fourth year uniforms for the very last time.

I’ve just passed the crown, and it feels damn good, like a weight’s been lifted off my shoulders.

Tomorrow, I’ll get to see Charlie.

Tomorrow, I can give my speech, exact my revenge, and once midnight hits, I’ll be like Cinderella at the ball. Instead of losing my magic however, I’ll walk away from the clutches of the Infinity Club with my life.

I put my hand over my slashed-out infinity tattoo, climb behind the wheel of the Maserati, and head back to campus.

All five guys spend the night in my room, and we aren’t exactly wearing

clothes.

They don’t touch each other, but they let me touch them, one by one, working my way through until I’m sweaty and exhausted and falling asleep

in a pile I never want to leave.

Never.

The last day of school comes much quicker than I anticipated, leaving me in this whirlwind where I’m always in a rush from one thing to another, whether it’s project or an orchestra performance or a scholarship deadline.