Stuck With The Four Hotties

“This is just a, uh, home away from home,” I say, smiling as I hold out a hand to indicate the giant silver and black monstrosity overshadowing our neighborhood. “I hope you don’t mind that my friends stopped by for a bit

…”

Dad smiles and reaches out to ruffle up my hair.

“I don’t mind at all,” he says as I take his hand and squeeze it in mine. “How was chemo today?” I ask casually, knowing that Charlie’s resistant

to telling me anything about his treatment. He doesn’t want to scare me.

What he doesn’t realize is that I’m scared enough as it is.

“Just fine,” he replies, his baseball cap covering up his balding head. I hate it. It’s not fair. Why does someone like William Vanderbilt get to beat his son and squandor his family fortune, and have his fat pulled from the fire at the last second? And why does someone like Jennifer Carmichael get to cheat on her husband, abandon her child, and then live a life of luxury without any health problems?

The world can be so cruel sometimes.

“Mr. Reed,” Windsor greets, coming out of the house with Zack on his heels. The former has no problem sauntering up to shake hands with my father while the latter … The shame on his face is reflected in Creed’s. Zayd just looks nervous while Tristan’s completely blank.

“Oh, right. Those friends.” Dad sighs, but we’ve been through this all before at last year’s birthday party, so it’s not as big a deal as it was before. “Well, a friend of mine stopped by the hospital to say hi and brought me this huge grill pack. I suppose I could whip up some steak and chicken, maybe a few burgers …”

“Let us do the cooking,” Windsor supplies, stepping past Dad and grabbing the cooler from the back of the truck before Charlie can even think to protest. “You rest, and I’ll bring you a cup of tea. I brought some loose- leaf varieties that were a gift from my great-grandmother.”

“You’re such a nice boy,” Dad says, but then cringes slightly. “I mean, I guess you’re all nearly eighteen, so I should say man.”

“I’m just thankful you allow me to date your daughter,” Windsor tells him, and I love how it just goes over everyone’s head that Wind’s ‘great- grandmother’ is the Queen of freaking England.

Dad smiles, but there’s a faraway sort of look in his eyes, the same look he’s had all week. I need to talk to him about the Isabella thing. He’s a terrible liar, so if my suspicions are right, he’ll spill the beans during a simple confrontation. But that’s a good trait to have, right? To be a terrible liar? Better than being an expert.

“Everything okay?” I ask again, putting my hand on his arm. He pauses and purses his lips, nodding.

“Yeah, everything’s fine, Marnye-bear. There’s nothing for you to worry about; I just want you to enjoy your senior year.” He starts toward the house again, but my nerves are on high-alert. I feel like there’s something more he’s not telling me.Exclusive © content by N(ô)ve/l/Drama.Org.

I watch him go, greeting Lizzie and Miranda as he steps into the house. He mostly ignores Zack and Creed, but that’s no surprise there. He hasn’t forgiven them yet, and I can’t blame him. I’m more likely to forgive something done to me versus something done to a person I love.

“He hates them, doesn’t he?” I ask Wind, glancing his direction as he follows my dad’s retreat with dark shadows dancing behind his hazel eyes. He still seems distracted and tired to me; it’s making me nervous.

The prince glances my way again, blinking those fears and doubts from his gaze and smiling.

“Maybe. That’s why you should dump the rest of these assholes, marry me, and ride off into the sunset in your rose-gold Maserati.” Windsor leans over and presses a light kiss to my cheek, just the most fleeting pressure of lips against skin that leaves me lightheaded and dizzy.

I glance his way, but I still can’t decide if he’s serious or not.

“College first, Windy,” I tell him, and he gives me this naughty, sexy little grin. We haven’t talked much about college, me and him. Other than the fact

that he said he doesn’t particularly care if he goes or not, I don’t know anything about his future plans. He’s got enough money to blow it on whatever he wants and live comfortably for the rest of his life.

“College first then princessdom,” he says, stepping toward me and curling his fingers through mine. For a moment there, I find myself short of breath, staring back at the handsome prince and wondering what on earth I did to make him like me so much. Part of me still wonders if he’s up to something.

I decide to ask him the same question that Creed asked me.

“Why?” I whisper, my voice barely audible, the sound stolen away by the gentle breeze and the tinkle of wind chimes.

“Why, what?” the prince asks, stepping so close that I can see flecks of gold and blue and green in his irises. His red-orange hair is just slightly curled on the top, and it falls gently over his forehead until he lets go of one of my hands and pushes it up. It stays up, too, like it prefers to be there.

“Why do you like me?” I ask, genuinely curious. I’m not fishing for compliments or looking for validation, I just want to know.

Windsor cocks a red brow at me.

“Mm, interesting question,” he says, looking up at the sky for a moment. When he glances back down at me, there’s a much softer expression on his face that makes me shiver. “Now? Or when I first saw you? Those, Milady, are two different answers.”

“Now,” I say firmly, exhaling and enjoying the warmth of his hand pressed up against mine. Wind nods, like he expected as much.

“Now, it’s because you’re a person who isn’t swayed by the easy things in life. You demand heart and sacrifice, kindness, generosity. Those sorts of acts aren’t easy. I admire you in a way I’ve never admired anyone else.” He pauses and reaches up to touch the side of my face. “There’s a purity in you that very well might cancel out the darkness in me. Marnye, I’m not ashamed to admit it: I want you, and I’m willing to fight for the

privilege of calling you mine.”