Stuck With The Four Hotties

“I don’t see why I have to keep trying,” Creed drawls, gesturing loosely in my direction as he drapes his boneless body over one of the leather chairs in the library. “I was already accepted to the school. What do my grades matter now?”

I cross my arms over my chest and give him my most severe look.

“First off, don’t you have any pride in your academic work? And second, it does matter. The university will look at your grades for the last semester, and your class ranking. Miranda already promised me you’d be going to Bornstead. Don’t disappoint me now, Cabot.”

“Oh, bossy, bossy, bossy,” he drawls, flinging one leg over the arm of the chair and looking out at me from under half-lidded eyes. His gaze sweeps me in my all-black uniform, taking in every curve. When I sit down, on the other chair arm, my skirt rides up and Creed gets a little peek at my garters underneath. “And just as sexy as you are authoritative.” His fingers dance across my upper thigh, snapping one of the straps against my pale flesh. I shiver, but I manage to stay firm.

“You need to study for this math test.”

“I’d rather study you,” Creed purrs, drawing me into his lap. His clean linen and soap smell is intoxicating, and I find my hands playing with the buttons on his shirt, even though I know I should be encouraging him to look at the rubric Miss Danebo handed out.

“Why? What is it you want to know?”

“Why do you like those boy-on-boy comics so much? Do you have fantasies you haven’t told me about?”

“Yes, I’d love to see you topped by Tristan Vanderbilt, but that’s not going to happen. What will happen if you don’t study, is me going to college with your sister, and you going home to sleep a gap year away in the Hamptons.”

“You’d go without me?” he asks, sighing and sliding his fingers down the row of buttons on my top, popping a few of them wide. The lace of my navy, blue bra shows, and I suck in a sharp breath as Creed trails the edge of his fingernail along the scalloped edges. His ice-blue eyes flick up to mine with an exquisite sort of cruelty dancing in them. He knows how badly he’s getting to me, and he loves it. I wiggle on his lap without meaning to, and Creed scowls at me. “And you know from experience exactly what that sort of move does to my dick.”

“So damn crude,” I murmur, forcing myself to stand up and put some space between us. If I don’t, I’m going to end up doing things in the library that most definitely would end up on my permanent record if I were caught. “But I like it,” I toss over my shoulder, sauntering off and enjoying Creed’s groan of frustration as he forces himself up and follows after me.

“Where are you going?” he asks as I head out the library doors, and down the stone hall.

“If you’re not willing to study, I have other things to deal with today.” I reach into my pocket and pull out my modified list. Ileana doesn’t seem to be coming back to Burberry, and not because of the whole, erm, popped boob thing. Pretty sure there’s a rift between her and Becky that’ll never be healed.

Revenge On The Bluebloods of Burberry PrepTêxt belongs to NôvelDrama.Org.

A list by Marnye Reed

The Harpies: Harper du Pont, Becky Platter, and Ileana Taittinger The Company: Abigail Fanning, Valentina Pitt, Mayleen Zhang, Jalen

Donner, and Kiara Xiao

The fucked-up foursome-Harper, Becky, Abigail, and Valentina-are proving the most difficult. I mean, just think about Abigail for example: Tristan destroyed her at the casino, I gave her boyfriend proof of her infidelity, and she found out Harper had been screwing Greg behind her back all along. And yet, she’s still standing. It’s not enough, not by a longshot.

Of course, dethroning the girls from their Blueblood status was impressive, but it doesn’t take the cake.

For now, I’ve moved onto easier targets: Mayleen Zhang in particular.

She’s always prided herself on her schoolwork, just like me and Tristan. In fact, she often ranks in the top five in the entire academy. And yet, I’ve now got proof that she’s been using what’s called mosaic plagiarism to write a lot of her essays-including one she got an award for last year.

Mosaic plagiarism is when a person uses a general story idea or structure and simply finds synonyms or alternative phrases for the author’s original work while keeping the same meaning and structure of the piece they’re stealing from.

It’s more difficult to prove than direct plagiarism-that is, straight up copying and pasting. But it can be done, and I’m going to do it. Sorry, but there’s one thing about using common themes or tropes in a piece of writing and another altogether to literally pattern a new work off an existing one.

Fucking Mayleen is going down.

“You’re up to something, aren’t you? I can practically smell it.” Creed folds his arms together behind his head, watching me with curiosity and no small amount of glee. He loves the kill, just like all the rest of them do. “May I ask who, exactly, you’re focusing your eye of revenge on today?”

“Mayleen,” I say, knowing her parents are here to walk the campus with Mayleen’s younger sister. Because of the previous issues with bullying here at the academy, they’re strongly considering sending their youngest daughter to Coventry Prep. Principal Collins will be with them, too. This should work out nicely.

“Excellent. Another faceless lackey bites the dust. When do we get the big names though? That’s what I’m looking forward to.”

“I’ve got Harper under control,” I say, realizing how ridiculous that sounds considering her recent attack on my college applications. “Becky … I’m not sure about.”

“I think Zayd is working on Becky. You know, he feels like Windsor let Ileana off the hook too easily. That, and I think he’s jealous of the prince.”

“Zayd is?” I ask, glancing over at Creed. “Zayd, the rock god is jealous?” Creed shrugs his shoulders, and I narrow my eyes. “Just Zayd, huh? Nobody else.”

“No, definitely not,” he replies, raising his eyebrows and then smiling sweetly as we pass by Mrs. Collins. “Good afternoon, Madam Principal.”

“Mr. Cabot,” she replies, looking askance at us with no small amount of suspicion. Can’t say that I blame her, considering Creed’s track record.

The Zhangs are pushing a stroller slowly down the path and discussing the merits of Burberry Prep with the principal. I pretend to drop a pen, duck down, and then stick the packet of papers in the storage area underneath, right next to the diaper bag. Seems a bit anticlimactic now that I’m standing here, but I had to put hours of research into that, lining up the similarities between Mayleen’s essays and all the ones she stole from.

If she hadn’t stolen from one of mine, I might never have known.

I’ve already slipped a manila envelope with the same papers in Mrs.

Collins employee mail slot.

There’s nothing Burberry Prep hates more than an academic scandal. Remember what almost happened to me? I’m sure it’ll be taken care of discreetly.

“That was subtle, not like you at all,

” Creed says, as I look back over at him.