Stuck With The Four Hotties

“You both look and smell divine,” he says with a sharp twist of his lips, leaning in to breathe the bubblegum smell that surrounds me. His usual scent of cinnamon and peppermint has been replaced with black licorice, but I don’t mind. I actually like the stuff, despite the fact that everyone else I know hates it.

“Right back at you,” I whisper, as he leans down and presses a kiss to the side of my throat. It’s such a deliberate move, meant to make my blood boil.

It works.

I exhale and step away from him before I get too swept up in his presence. I want to check out the other guys and their costumes. We all worked so hard on the set, I need to take it all in.

Zayd is dressed up as a container of French fries-or chips as Windsor refers to them-but he’s done it in such an artful way that he looks hot as hell at the same time. He’s got on a pair of overalls with short legs. The suspenders are bright yellow, and the shorts part is red, like a container. He’s painted a big, white McDonald’s M on the ass, and made a brooch out of an order of small fries from a drive-thru. He glued them together, and I helped spray them with shellac.

Fortunately, he doesn’t smell like his snack of choice and instead, when he embraces me, there’s the usual clove, tobacco, and sage mixture that I’ve come to appreciate.

“You are beyond hot in that outfit,” he whispers to me as Miranda scoffs and rolls her eyes, moving aside so Lizzie can slip out. She needed an extra minute to fix her makeup, so she’s a step behind.

As soon as she appears though, I can feel her and Tristan looking at each other.

It’s too much to deal with tonight, so I turn to Creed and grin. Miranda’s twin is also a bitten off piece of watermelon, but instead of a dress, he’s got a red shirt with black seeds, and a side cut-out that shows off his rock-hard abs. Around his neck, he’s even wearing a chain with a piece of watermelon on it. As I watch, he lifts it up and takes a big bite out of it.

“At least I’m not a pirate this time,” is all he says, and I grin. His pants are green, and honestly ugly as sin, but they work with the costume. And tell me this: how could Creed Cabot look anything but attractive?

“At least there’s that,” I agree, and I let him take my arm, ignoring the fact that Lizzie and Tristan are having some quiet conversation that I can’t quite

hear. She laughs, and he smiles at her. He smiles. My stomach twists, and I close my eyes against a surge of jealousy.

It’s not fair for me to act like that.

I have five guys surrounding me, and Lizzie only has some distant fiance she doesn’t even like. If her and Tristan are meant to be then …

“Windsor, you’re ridiculous,” I say, because he’s dressed up as a giant tea bag. Like, literally, he’s wearing a freaking see-through shift with dried brown leaves glued and sewn to the inside, and he’s got a long rope with a huge square tag hanging off of it that he’s swinging around. It says English Breakfast Tea with a crown underneath it.

His red hair’s sticking up as per usual, and he’s got a silver tea spoon behind his ear.

The reference isn’t lost on me. You know, born with a silver spoon in the mouth, meaning wealthy? Hah.

“Am I not the epitome of a youthful Adonis?” he says, the shift swirling around his bare legs. He’s got boots on, but I’m not sure what else is underneath that ridiculous outfit. Hopefully underwear at the very least, but knowing the prince, maybe there’s nothing at all. “I’ve already posted several photos on Instagram, and my mother’s lost her mind.” He grins like this is the greatest thing ever. “Oh, the bloody scandal. She definitely will not enjoy the tea bag references.” He winks at me and I roll my eyes.

“At least you’re a proper cup of English breakfast,” I say, letting him take up my other arm. Zack is standing just in front of me, watching me carefully. We’ve been a little awkward with each other since the trip, but only because every time I look at him, heat flashes through me and I imagine his mouth on my breast.

I figure if I can still talk to Creed after the hot tub incident, we should be okay eventually.

But also, there’s the fact that Zack’s costume is … sort of non-existent.

“I feel fucking ridiculous,” he says as I try to decide whether or not I should laugh … or cry … or drag him into my dorm room for another make- out session.

He’s supposed to be a slice of pizza, but really he’s sort of just wearing underwear, a tank top, and sneakers. The slice of pizza-made out of yellow, brown, and red felt for the cheese, crust, and pepperoni-has been glued to a very tight pair of new black boxer briefs. Up top, he’s got a tank top on with the logo for a local pizza place.

He is pretty much naked.

“And I went in rainbow drag last year, so that tells you a lot.”

I decide laughter’s the best medicine, and let myself giggle at him until Miranda hip bumps her brother out of the way, takes my arm, and drags me down the hallway.

We head through the woods like we did last year, and I get all giddy and excited as I unlock the doors to the Maserati, and Miranda, Creed, and Windsor join me. Andrew takes his red Lamborghini with Lizzie, Tristan, and Myron. Tristan’s bestie was waiting out here for us, leaning up against a tree, and dressed like some superhero I don’t recognize. Not surprising considering I’ve never really been into superhero stuff.

Zack and Zayd take the orange McLaren, and we make a little caravan as our headlights sweep the darkness, heading for one of Windsor’s family homes in the mountains. Most everyone at Burberry Prep who’s rich enough has a home within a few hours of this area. It’s considered one of the most beautiful and exclusive parts of the country, a new Californian haven that’s trendier with the super-rich than L. A. ever was.

Fortunately, the zoning laws out here prevent too many new houses from being built, so I hope it stays pristine for a long time coming.

About an hour and fifteen minutes later, we head up a long, long drive to a massive gate, and then wait as Windsor gets out to put in the code. There are people here already, caterers, and party planners that the prince hired with his own money. Since they’re not part of the usual staff who tend the property, he swears nobody will know we partied here until it’s too late.

When we get inside, the house is decorated like a Halloween store, props everywhere, chandeliers with skulls, candelabras burning bright. I scream as I accidentally step on a trigger spot and a giant zombie lunges out at me.NôvelDrama.Org exclusive content.

“Oh, Charity,” Zayd says, sweeping me up in his arms as we both start to laugh. He carries me into the kitchen-and holy shit, what a kitFhen-and sets me on the center island. This island is bigger than the kitchen at my dad’s new rental place which, actually, is about twice as large as the

kitchen we had in the Train Car.