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“I would’ve told Lizzie to fuck off by now,” he whispers, and I wrap my arms around his neck and squeeze.
“You go, I’ll watch Lizzie.” “I—” I start to tell her that I don’t need her to watch Lizzie for me when I turn and see Lizzie’s hands on Tristan’s tie. He’s looking right at me, too, and there’s a sort of challenge in his face that makes my stomach hurt. Maybe he’s … what if he likes me and Lizzie both? I mean, I have a crush on five guys, so why would it matter if he liked another girl?
“You can’t feel guilt for living your life and being a teenager. Your dad doesn’t want you to sit at home and pine over him. If he did, he wouldn’t have told you to go. I might not know the guy very well, but the way he told us all off that day in your room … I get the idea that he isn’t a man who lies and bullshits.” I laugh, but it’s a bit teary.
“Boys,” I greet, and I get the laziest, sexiest little smile from Miranda’s twin. “Your Majesty,” he says, and Windsor grins.
“Your Majesty, indeed. Marry me and make it official. No pre-nup. You can have half my fortune if we ever get divorced.”
“You’re seriously freaking weird, and I love you for it,” I say, and then my cheeks flame as Windsor’s brows go up. “I mean, like … not love-love, but … just …” I groan and put my hand up to co...
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He puts the piece of candy between his lips and leans in, kissing me with it. His tongue pushes the chocolate into my mouth, and I have half a second to decide if I want to spit or swallow it. Whoa. That sounded much dirtier than I intended it to … But also … good question. I’ve never actually, um, had to consider whether I’d spit or swallow. I swallow the chocolate, and exhale.
“I thought we were dating the good girl, Creed. Guess our new Idol Queen is a little naughty, huh?” “Oh so naughty,” Creed drawls, making a show of licking the chocolate from his fingertips, swirling his tongue enticingly around each one.
“Because … you like the movie?” I ask as Creed gives Zayd another look. “Maybe not so naughty after all? She’s so damn sweet. Let’s poison her, Zayd.” Creed steps forward as Zayd grins and grabs me around the waist.
“I mentioned it because at one point, Seth Rogen launches into a rant about how weed makes food taste better, music sound better, crappy TV shows seem better … It makes sex exquisite.” “Seth Rogen uses the word exquisite?” I whisper, and Creed gives me this naughty kitty smile, like a very bad housecat. A very, very bad housecat with claws. Is it wrong that I want to get scratched? That maybe I even want to get bitten?
Windsor and Zack are still close by which is a good thing, too, because I almost lose my shit when I see Lizzie climbing into the hot tub in a tiny bikini and scooting up close to Tristan. “What is she doing?” I whisper as Windsor comes up to stand on my right side. “She’s fighting, love,” he tells me, giving me a look. “She wants him—almost desperately so.” I purse my lips and reach down to tear my dress over my head. Zayd and Zack both make shocked noises under their breath, but Windsor doesn’t seem surprised. This is ridiculous; I can’t believe I’m doing this. I’m not even wearing a bathing
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this particular edible does not have a two hour activation time. Oh no, it’s much, much faster. Uh-oh. “Also, I just ate my first edible.” One of Tristan’s perfectly curved dark brows lifts up in surprise.
I see parts of him I’ve only dreamed of. I mean … did I say dreamed of? Haha, no. Err, well, in the interest of being truthful, I might have. Fine, okay, I definitely have dreamed about a naked Zayd Kaiser. He’s got a really nice dick, my mind supplies as I catch sight of a small piercing on the tip. My cheeks flame as he slides in beside me. This is really looking like déjà vu here,
“Oh, this is going to be good,” Tristan murmurs, smirking and giving Zayd a look. “I take it this is your doing?” “Might’ve had a little help from Creed,” Zayd says with a shrug, lighting up a joint with a lighter he pulled from his discarded pants’ pocket. He takes a puff and passes it to Windsor.
“We’re poisoning Marnye, slowly but surely,” Creed murmurs, grabbing onto Miranda’s arm when she tries to wander off again. She glares at him and takes another swig of her champagne. “Poisoning her, huh?” Lizzie says with a smile, resting a hand on Tristan’s shoulder. He stiffens up and his face goes very still, but she doesn’t seem to notice. It makes me afraid to touch him. Does he not want to be touched at all? Or maybe … he just doesn’t want to be touched by her? I can’t tell. I can’t tell! And it’s freaking killing me. “How so?”
“Quiet, Working Boy,” Harper snaps, her voice commanding authority as she sneers at Tristan. “We weren’t happy with one charity case at our school and now we have two? What are you trying to do, cheapen the reputation of the academy so the rest of us suffer?” “Oh, but darling, you’ve already done that.” Tristan folds one arm over his middle, resting the elbow of the other in the palm of his hand, so he can gesture at her with long, elegant fingers. “Your decorum is poor, your breeding substandard, and quite frankly, you’re a dumb bitch that nobody likes. If you consider yourself one of the
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“You are so high,” Creed says, but then he grins because he’s high, too. Zayd is watching us from the other side, his head propped in his inked hand. His Never Again tattoo is visible on the side of his neck, and I feel compelled to reach out and touch it, just to see if the ink feels as nice as it looks. “Mm,” Zayd purrs as my hand slides up the side of his neck. He leans in for a kiss, and I swear, I’ve never felt anything quite like his mouth on mine. He tastes just enough like danger to be enticing, but also like surety. I’m positive Zayd is here for me now, really and truly. I don’t think
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leaning down for another kiss, one that goes much deeper, our tongues tangling. Next to us, Creed slides his hand in his swim shorts and groans, sending a hot flush through me that I don’t quite know what to do with. I’m still pretty new at this whole sex thing. I mean, a few times with Creed and a few times with Zack does not an expert make.
I lean back a little and my body bumps into Creed’s. He groans, and I glance back to see his hand working furiously at pleasuring himself. As I watch, he finishes with a shudder and his body goes limp in the pillows. Pretty sure he’s asleep in like, a minute.
“See, I told him you wouldn’t be coming to him later.” “He looked like he was having a good time,” I whisper back, realizing in the back of my mind that I’ll probably be mortified to remember this moment in the morning. Right now, it all seems surreal and beyond exciting.
My tongue slides along the edge of Zayd’s jeans, and then my fingers are popping his fly. I look up at him as I take his shaft in my hand. “Holy fuck,” he whispers, but then he only lets me get so far as a single lick before he grabs me by the wrist and pulls me up toward his face. “Not when you’re high, not for our first time.”
“Sleep well, Charity. We’ll see about finishing this up in the morning.” Zayd relaxes next to me, and the last thing I remember is seeing his inked fingers curl around the base of his cock. After that, it’s nothing but dreams until the sun comes up.
“And I’m such a nice guy, I even included extras for your other boyfriends.” “Nice guys don’t say that they’re nice guys,” I tell him, and he smiles, leaning in to pen me against the door with an arm on either side, the cluster of guitar pic necklaces he’s slipped around his neck swinging forward in the space between us. “Nah, you’re right: I’m a total asshole. Here’s the thing though …” Zayd pauses and presses a kiss to the corner of my mouth. “I like you enough to try. So,” he stands back up and folds his muscular arms over his chest. “Here’s me, trying. Probably failing, but at least the
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“Tip of what?” Creed repeats as I glance over at him, tall and imposing with eyes like chips of ice. My face heats, and I look up at the blue, blue California sky. “Erm, would you believe me if I said … lollipop?” “No.” Creed narrows his eyes and huffs. “Unless by lollipop, you mean Zayd’s dick. Surely you noticed the stupid piercing? He’s such a showboating cocksucker.”
“I’m not a virgin anymore,” he says, and this cavalier little smile takes over his mouth. “And neither are you. No matter what happens, you’ll probably remember me the rest of your life. I like that.” “You’re a cocky, arrogant, lazy dickhead,” I say, but Creed just shrugs again. “No arguing that. Should we take a nap before the concert? I don’t even know why we’re up at the butt crack of dawn anyhow. It’s not our show tonight.” “We could take a nap …” I start, and there must be something in my voice because Creed suddenly doesn’t look so sleepy anymore. His cavalier smile turns into a
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“Miranda walked in on me and Creed,” I tell him, locking eyes with that shimmering silver gaze of his. His jaw tightens, but he doesn’t say a word, waiting for the others to pass before Windsor pauses beside me. “I wasn’t jealous before,” Wind muses, pushing his red hair off his forehead. As per usual, it sticks straight up. “I’m starting to get jealous now. What do you think, Mr. Vanderbilt?” “Creed’s no threat to me,” he says, standing up straight and storming past us while Creed flips him off from behind.
taking in the tension and wondering: how much longer can I do this? How much longer can I keep them all before they start to fight with one another?
“Whoa. If I weren’t gay, I might be switching teams to #TeamZayd.” Miranda whistles under her breath as Zayd moves up to the front of the stage and plants one of his boots on a speaker.
“Altered by fire, destroyed by the flame, broken by violence, restored in the rain.”
“The fall of your tears was the catalyst I craved, the heat of your mouth was the balm that could save. You opened your eyes, and you saw through my pain.” Zayd pauses his strumming of the guitar, and then growls into the mic in such a way that I feel every single part of me come to life with a violent surge of want. Holy hell. Fend off groupies, he said? I can see why.
“This next song, I wrote for my girlfriend.” He points an inked finger in my direction and beckons me out toward him, past the safety of the curtain and into the spotlight. “Go!” Miranda encourages, pushing me out and making me stumble slightly before Zayd is there, grabbing me by the hand and dragging me into the center of the stage.
“She put up with my bullshit, and my bullying, and this song … it’s just for fucking her, okay?” He laughs and the sound travels through me like a shot, warming me up from my very core. “You can listen, but it’s not for you.”
“I’ll never be a nice guy, and I’ll never be a saint, but if you’re game to let me try, I’ll make a valiant change. If you could only love me for the asshole that I am, then I swear to God I’d be the man you want to claim.” Zayd
“If there’s any chance of trust, can you give me another chance? There’s so much fear inside, no place to hide. But can you see the real me?” I’m such a sucker for a good apology, I think as Zayd reaches out, takes my hand, and pulls me into his lap.
Zayd’s eyes close as he sings the ending of the song, “can you see the real me?” and then drops the mic and picks me up
“I’d fuck you, if you were game.” One of the first things he ever said to me. Back then, I wanted to kill him. Now … I’m game for sure.
“Tell Zack and Creed I’m sorry,” he growls, his voice still stuck halfway between speech and song. “For what?” I whisper, shaking all over, my hands curled in his sweaty tank. “For putting them to shame. Let me show you how a rock star fucks.”
“Hey.” We both freeze as a voice draws us out of the moment, and I realize that I’m not wearing my dress anymore, and that Zayd is still very much buried inside of me. It’s Tristan. “You’ve got people looking for you,” he says, like he’s bored shitless. The way he looks at the two of us … I can’t tell if he’s furious … or like, if he doesn’t care. He’s completely shut down. “Hurry up.”
“Talk to her like that again, and I’ll show you the door myself, get it?” he snaps, and I raise my eyebrows as he looks down at me. “What? The only person that gets to bully you is me.” “Aw, wow, such a romantic statement,” I say with a roll of my eyes, but I know it’s a joke, so I let it go.
“You're saying I have enough boyfriends, so why not give you one?” Lizzie shrugs, almost helplessly. I can't decide if it's a genuine emotion, or if it's all just an act. “I mean, not exactly, but … yeah.” “If Tristan wants to be with you, that's his choice,” I tell her, that anxious knot inside of me twisting even further. It's in that moment that I hate this world and all its stupid rules. Why can't I love more than one person? Parents love more than one child. Grandchildren love more than one grandma. Pet owners love more than one pet. “I can't and won't force or encourage him to do
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We had sex; I actually had sex with him. My cheeks flame, and I suck my lower lip under my teeth. “Hey,” he purrs, leaning in close, a huge grin plastered on his face. I can smell his sage and geranium scent mixed with the faint whisper of tobacco as he presses up close against me. “Are you daydreaming about all the naughty things we did?” “Fuck off, Kaiser,” I choke out, but my mouth twitches slightly at the same time Creed scowls. We didn't just have sex, we were downright fucking naughty.
“Don't be mad that we all know your secret. You kept it well. I was convinced you were an even bigger man-slut than Tristan.” “Please and kindly, shut the fuck up,” Tristan says, tapping his fingers on his thigh.
“His majesty is trying to think,” Windsor says, speaking up and tapping the side of his head with a single finger. “It's not easy for him, so please, quiet while he concentrates.” Windsor's newest favorite thing to do is call Tristan his majesty in the most dry and sarcastic voice known to man.
He shrugs out of his letterman jacket and passes it over to me, making me smile. I take it and slip into it, his grapefruit and nutmeg scent surrounding me like a familiar hug. All the boys are watching, and none of them looks particularly happy. Even Miranda has her eyes slightly narrowed. Lizzie looks … kind of thrilled, actually.
“What's the problem here?” Myron Talbot asks, seemingly appearing out of nowhere. His eyes are dark, and his face is as closed-off as Tristan's ever is. “When the Idols walk, you move.” “We don't agree that they are the Idols,” Harper says, but even she looks nervous with Myron staring at her like that. He takes a step forward, and all the girls but Isabella and Harper move back. “This isn't a debate, du Pont. Get your ass, and your new pet's ass out of the way.”
“It's okay. I don't need people to move out of my way. That's not a perk of the Idols anymore.” Harper narrows her eyes on me like she thinks I'm playing some trick. I stare her blue gaze down without flinching before I turn to Isabella. “She tried to kill me, you know, Harper did. She and her friends. So whatever it is you hate me so much for, ask yourself how far you're willing to go.” I start walking and everyone else follows.
She seriously needs to be put in her place; that is, back down on earth with all the rest of us.
“No bullying,” I tell him, looking into his eyes, “not even toward her.” “Don’t be ridiculous,” he snaps, but I mean it. I intend to be queen here, even over the king. I’ve made up my mind. The boys might be the muscle behind my rise to social power at Burberry Prep, but they’re too cruel to rule on their own. “Not even toward her. Let’s go.”
The sensation of our mouths touching is sharp, almost painful, like he’s cutting me with a knife and making me bleed, but then healing me right after. Pain, pleasure. Sharpness, soothing. A dichotomy. Tristan Vanderbilt’s mouth, much like Zayd Kaiser’s tattoos, is a warning. I’m hot and wild, and desperate for your touch … but stay away from me or you’ll taste my venom.
I turn back to look at Tristan, but I’m not afraid of him, not anymore. He’s just a damaged boy with a cruel streak. I … shouldn’t want to hold him close and banish his darkness, but I do. Fuck me, but I do. I’ve fallen for the good girl fixes the bad boy stereotype.
