Stuck With The Four Hotties

December at Burberry Prep is always fun. There’s a giant Christmas tree in the student lounge, but I’ve never really had the chance to appreciate it, considering my previous circumstances. It’s quiet and secluded up here, and the student council-most of whom I’ve never met-actually runs a tiny cafe where students can purchase coffee or croissants.

It’s like … halfway between The Mess and the library, but without much employee supervision.

Essentially, it’s the ideal place to get jumped.

Since second year, I’ve been preparing my case against Harper.

I’m not worried about her. Some of the others however, I’m struggling with. They all deserve to get theirs, but I’m not willing to break my rules, no matter what Zack says.

“I like it up here,” I say, sitting next to Tristan on one of the leather couches in the student lounge. “The last time I was up here, I was giving Wind a tour of the school.” My face burns, and I do my best not to think about how much hay I had stuck in my butt crack. Or how I gave in and tiptoed to Wind’s bedroom later that night. He spent almost two hours between my thighs with his mouth.

“So do I. Too bad we wasted four years not using it.” Tristan Vanderbilt taps his fingers on the couch arm, and then pauses to look over as Lizzie Walton appears with a cup of coffee on a saucer, and a white bag in her other

hand filled with pastries. “Excuse me.” Tristan stands up and then sets something down on the stack of papers in front of me, most of which are scholarship pamphlets I picked up during the academic fair last week.

Tristan … kind of needs to apply to as many as he can.

“I brought food for everyone, but …” She trails off and watches him leave before sitting down in the chair nearest me. I glance down at whatever it is that Tristan left, and then flush ten shades of crimson when I see it’s his test results, just like I saw with Zack, Zayd, and even Windsor. He emailed me his, and I just happened to have Charlie standing near me when I opened it

…

Needless to say, we had a small birds and the bees sex talk that ended with him giving me a book that looks like it’s from 1982, all about how people in love can make each other happy with their bodies … Gross.

“You okay?” Lizzie asks me, waving her hand in front of my face. I look up and force a smile, folding the page in half, so she can’t see it. If Tristan gave me this then … but I notice that she’s also got a folded in half piece of paper clutched in her hand, too.

No, I’m being paranoid. I’m imagining things. I’m …

“Why did you pick me?” I ask suddenly as Lizzie sets her food down and tosses shiny dark hair over one shoulder. She freezes, like a deer caught in the headlights. I mean, I’ve heard this story from Zack, but I want to hear it from her, too.

“For …”

“The bet,” I clarify, as if there was anything else. My hand subconsciously reaches down to rest atop my slashed out infinity tattoo. I know it’s all in my head, but it feels like it burns sometimes. I just hate the way the world works, how the super-rich control everything, and how they rule without compassion.

The Club is … just that, but on a smaller scale. Nothing is different; nothing has changed.

“Right.” Lizzie sighs and closes her eyes. Her all-black uniform is perfectly pressed and polished, much like Tristan’s, never a fold or wrinkle or stitch out of place. When she opens her amber eyes and looks back over at me, I keep my gaze neutral. “It feels so stupid now, but … back then I was so angry. Your mother’s new husband, Adam Carmichael, he’d been sleeping with my sister.” I wait, seeing if she might elaborate a little. Fortunately, the

silence, filled only with the clink of cups and the distant murmur of a coffee grinder, seems to spur her on. “And then there was you, this … easy target. You were going to school with Zack, and … to be honest with you, I didn’t care. I hated Adam, and I hated the Carmichaels, and I just …” She trails off again and looks away, toward the snack counter. “I didn’t think of you as a real person back then, just a distant object. I thought of them all that way, all the Plebs.”

My mouth tightens into a thin line as Lizzie looks back over at me. “That’s it? I was collateral damage? Nothing more?” Somehow that makes

it even shittier.

“Well, that, and when Zack mentioned you in passing, I … maybe I was jealous. He called you beautiful. I’d never heard him talk about a girl like that before.” Lizzie and I stare at each other, and her face flushes. Hopefully she realizes how ridiculous she sounds. “I’m sorry. I can’t say it enough. I’ll say it forever if I have to: I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry now,” I tell her, and then I guess maybe her embarrassment is too much, or I’ve pushed her too hard or something because she gets really freaking cranky then.

“Look, you’ve gotten your revenge on me. You have Tristan now, and what do I have?” She stands up and knocks her bag of pastries to the floor, spilling crumbs everywhere, her black pleated skirt swirling around her thighs. “I have nothing. Nobody. Nobody likes me at this school. I came here to help you, I …” She trails off, and then pauses when she realizes I have no plans to engage her on this.Material © NôvelDrama.Org.

“I had you on my list, you know, for revenge.” I stand up and gather my things in my arms, my bookbag clutched in tight fingers as I look over and meet Lizzie’s eyes. “But you were so heartbroken when you saw Tristan and Harper engaged that I couldn’t d

o it anymore. That was it.