Stuck With The Four Hotties

“I mean I’ve been placid, and I’ve been nice, and I’m done with it. I thought that’s what Marnye wanted.” Zack stops and then sits back in his chair, lifting his chin in a way that promise he’s just as much a member of the Burberry Prep royal court as any of the other guys. “But it’s not. She wants me to fight for her, so that’s what I’m going to fucking do. I’m taking her on a date, just me.”

“Says friggin’ who?” Zayd growls, rising to his feet. I reach out and grab his arm, and he sits down, letting out a string of curses.

“Where are you wanting to take me?” I ask, heart pounding, knowing this is going to be good. Zack is thoughtful. He bought me a freaking pedal harp for Christmas.

“I got some off-campus passes for the afternoon. Thought we could go to the bookstore, and I could get you some more of those boys’ love mangas you like. And then … maybe a picnic by the lake.”

“Are you for real?” Zayd asks, leaning back in his chair so far I’m worried he might topple over. “What makes you think you get Marnye all to yourself on Valentine’s Day?”

“Because I asked for it first,” Zack says, voice cool and dark. He turns to look at me. “What do you think?”

I look at the others, but they don’t give anything away.

“We can hold court at the garden party,” Windsor says, surprising me. “You go. There’ll be time for other dates later.” Zayd curses, but then he just chucks his napkin onto his plate and throws a tattooed hand up in the air.

“Yeah, sure, Mr. Rich and Royal is going to be all chivalrous and shit. Fine. Go, have fun, but remember that when I take you out,” Zayd smirks as he levels a glare on Zack, “it’s going to be a hell of a lot better than a fucking picnic.”Property © of NôvelDrama.Org.

Valentine’s Day is just a normal day of school, capped off with the dramatic ritual of the roses. This time, I end up with a huge bundle. Pretty sure all of them are from my friends-boyfriends and non-boyfriends alike-but Zayd was right: it really does feel good to be wanted and appreciated.

After I set my colorful spray of roses up in a water pitcher (I don’t exactly have a lot of vases lying around), I change into a short, pink dress and some white ballet flats, pausing as I head out the door and find a small stack of gifts waiting for me.

Not a one of the boys is about to be outdone, so there’s a little something from everyone but Zack.

“The things I want to give you,” he says, leaning against the stone wall next to my door, dressed in jeans, a tight black shirt, and his red and black letterman jacket, “can’t be wrapped.”

My cheeks flush, and I lick my lower lip.

“Look at you, all poetic and romantic,” I murmur, putting the stack of presents carefully on my bed for later. What a treat that’ll be to come home to. What girl wouldn’t want to go on a date with her hunky football player

boyfriend, and then come back to a stack of beautifully wrapped gifts from her other four beaus.

I’m starting to feel spoiled.

Zack takes my arm and we head outside, threading through sun-dappled woods toward the visitors lot until we get to his orange McLaren. He opens the doors-which lift up in a BaFk to the Future sort of way-and holds my hand while I climb in, ever the gentleman.

True to his word, we hit the bookstore and load up on yaoi-yes, more of the super sexual Japanese manga that I like. I’m not even ashamed to admit it anymore. Zack decides to go a different route and ends up deciding to try some yuri-a girl on girl version of the books I’ve got. He says he’s not really into manga, but I appreciate that he’s willing to give it a try.

“I didn’t know it was my thing either until … well, I read some and now it definitely is my thing,” I say as we get back in the car, and Zack puts the giant bag of books in the backseat.

The lake where we’re having our picnic is the very same one that I attended my first Infinity Club party at, in the upper northeast section of campus. When we get there, there’s already a picnic table set up with a white cloth, an old-fashioned looking basket, and bottles of chilled sparkling cider.

My cheeks flush, and I bite my lip.

“Too cheesy?” Zack asks, tucking his hands into his pockets, but it’s not, and I shake my head.

“Not to me,” I tell him, taking a seat and finding out that inside the basket, he’s put all my favorite foods: purple grapes, salami and crackers, hummus and pretzels, dried banana chips, and dark chocolate with sea salt.

The spot Zack’s picked is so close to the water that when I kick off my shoes, I can dip my toe in. Of course, even though it’s sunny outside, it’s still February, and the lake’s a bit icy. Birds chirp, and the trees rustle pleasantly in the wind.

“You know I’m not playing around, right?” he asks me, standing up and moving over to sit on my side of the table, so close that I can feel his body heat.

“I never thought you were,” I tell him, but he’s already shaking his head. “No, but … when I saw you that morning after …” Neither of us needs to

say it: we both know exactly what he’s talking about. After I slept with Creed. “I knew I wasn’t trying hard enough. Marnye,” Zack continues, grabbing my wrist and pulling me into his lap. The boys do that a lot, and I

let them because I like it. I really, really do. “You’ve been asking me lately about college and my plans for the future. But you know what? You are my plan for the future. You’re what I want.”

“Zack,” I start, but he lifts his fingers up and brushes them down the side of my face. His heart is racing as fast as mine. I can see it in the thundering of the pulse point in his throat.

“It’s true. You said it yourself: we have everything. We want for nothing. But that’s not true. The only thing I’ve ever really wanted with a passion is you.” He pulls my face close and then kisses me with the scent of sweet grapes on his breath, his tongue tasting me as carefully as I sampled that chocolate earlier. And the sounds he makes are so dark and tinged with need that I wonder if he finds me as decadent as I did our dessert.

We start to kiss, my hands winding around his neck, fingers playing with the fine, soft hairs at the base of his scalp. I’m essentially straddling him now, and I realize how short my dress is. It’s already riding up, and I shiver as a cool breeze sweeps across the lake and gives me goose bumps.

“Let’s go back to the car,” he whispers, and I nod, sliding off so he can stand up. The first thing he does is give me his letterman jacket. It’s huge on me, but I love swimming in all that Zack-scented fabric. “It’s as long as your damn dress,” he murmurs, but

in a very appreciative sort of way.