Stuck With The Four Hotties

“Right,” Zack growls as Windsor narrows his eyes on both of them. “You just want her to come up to study? I call bullshit.”

“Why don’t you let me and Marnye worry about that?” Creed asks, as Zayd scowls, reaching up to ruffle his hair. It’s sea green again. He dyed it sometime during spring break and showed up with it like that. Pretty sure I squealed and threw my arms around his neck. I’m kind of attached to that color now.

“How about Marnye comes up with me, and we finally get it on?” Zayd says, lighting up a cigarette and giving me a wink. He dances out of the way when I try to pluck it from his lips, and I sigh. I put my hands on my hips and stare him down. After a few puffs, he sighs dramatically and then hands it over to me, watching sadly as I tap it out against the stone ground, and then throw it away. “You’re such a shithead,” he murmurs, but he says it so affectionately that it doesn’t bother me.

“I’m going to go back to my room now,” I tell them all, lifting an eyebrow. “And I’m going to read some of my gauche manga books, and then take a nap. None of you should have time for sex, not with finals around the corner. Third year’s the most important when it comes to getting into college, and I’m off to Bornstead if it kills me.”

I attempt a hair flip, fail, and then saunter off in my shiny kitten heels, and hope I look hot as fuck.

Probably not, but, you know, it was worth a try.

A few weeks later, when I seriously feel like I have nothing left to give back to the monster that is the brutal Burberry Prep academics schedule, I find Zayd asleep in the library. He’s lying facedown on his notebook, a pen still clutched loosely in his tattooed hand. Carefully, I pull it out and pack up his things for him.

Then I gently shake his shoulder in an attempt to wake him up.

“He’s out, isn’t he?” Miranda asks, chuckling behind me. But even her laughter is diminished in quality. We’re all so tired, overwhelmed, stressed out. I don’t know if I can beat Tristan this year. I’m trying. You bet your ass I’m trying with everything I’ve got, but maybe I’ve overextended myself a bit?

“Hey.” I shake Zayd a little harder, and he lifts his head up, this sleepy, groggy mess. He’s so damn cute, with his mussed green hair, and tattoos, one of his lip rings sticking out a weird angle. I reach out and poke it back into place with a finger. “You feel asleep.”

“Shit,” he says, checking his watch and then groaning. “Eleven o’clock? Seriously?” He gathers up his stuff, and the librarians follow us all out, locking the door behind us. Usually the library close at eight, but they have extended hours for the end of the year. “Imagine all the shit the Harpies could’ve pulled on me if I hadn’t been snoring in direct view of the librarian’s desk,” he says, rubbing at his face.

“I thought you didn’t care about your grades much?” I ask, wondering if I’ve ever really seen Zayd studying before. The answer is … no. In three years, I don’t recall many-if an-attempts on his part to improve his grades “Yeah, well,” he murmurs, but then he just stops talking and yawns, and I’m too tired to press him for answers. Jessie meets us about halfway back to the towers, and asks Miranda to join her for a late night snack in The Mess.

The dining hall, too, is open until midnight until finals are over. “Go,” Zayd tells her, linking his arm with mine. “I’ve got this.”

“Thanks,” Miranda says, taking her girlfriend’s arm and peeling off to head into the dining room. One of our new ‘Inner Circle’ members, Briana Chow, opens the door and follows them inside, big purple circles of fatigue under her eyes.

“I’m too tired to eat,” I admit, and Zayd grins. “Same.”

We head back to my room, and I invite him in, smiling as he collapses on my bed. I head into the kitchen to make a quick cup of chamomile, so my exhausted but still wired brain can actually get some sleep.

“Do you want any tea?” I ask, but Zayd doesn’t answer. I check on him again and find that he’s passed out. I don’t have the heart to wake him again, so I untangle his bookbag from his shoulder and go to put on the chair in the corner. As I move it, a piece of paper falls out and flutters to the floor.

Bornstead University AppliFation CheFklist.

That’s the title.

My breath hitches, and I flick my eyes over to Zayd again.

This the rock star here, the lead singer of Afterglow, son to rock royal Billy Kaiser.

And yet … he’s studying his ass off and trying to get into one of the most prestigious universities in the country.Exclusive content © by Nô(v)el/Dr/ama.Org.

Why?

Because of me?

I finish my tea, sip it slowly as I watch Zayd sleep, and then turn the lights before I climb into bed. I curl my body around him and cover us both up with the blankets. Before I know it, I’m asleep too, the hard, warm shape of his body bringing me more comfort than the chamomile tea ever could.

Next week is finals week.

I barely see my friends. I hardly kiss my boyfriends (that’s a serious crime in and of itself), and I get my ass kicked so hard by the exams that when the last day of school comes, I stumble over to the roster on the wall and find Tristan’s name above mine.

“You son of a bitch!” I choke as he grins and grabs me around the waist, pulling me close and kissing me on the side of the neck.

“It only took three years for me to beat you,” he whispers, but I’m not mad. Second place is still good enough to get into Bornstead, and I only lost by a fraction of a percent. Besides, I always have next year to redeem myself.

“Third years get to skip the ceremony,” Zayd says, catching up to us. Creed, Wind, and Zack aren’t far behind. Really, the whole school is here to see the roster, but they don’t crowd forward. They know better: when Tristan Vanderbilt is front and center, pushing and shoving is not acceptable. “Should we head to the lake now?”

“Let’s do it,” I say as Miranda and Lizzie join us. We’ve got other plans for the next few days, but we’re going to at least stop by the beach house,

and make an appearance. I just hope I don’t have to see the Harpies or the Company boys anywhere near me.

It feels like Harper’s spirit’s been broken, but I know she’s just biding her time.

Eventually, she’s going to strike back, and it’s not going to be pretty.

For now though, I’m just excited to have survived third year with my

life, my grades, and my heart intact.