I'm part of a group. I feel protected. I feel safe.
My eyes go to Tristan first because out of all the boys, he was the only one who refused to reveal his costume until now.
Pretty sure I almost keel over and die when I see him.
"Holy shit." The words fall out of my mouth before I can stop them, and I slap a hand to cover my lips.
He lets this wicked beautiful smile work its way across his mouth, and then moves in to stand in front of me.
"Black licorice, do you like it?" He's got on a leather jacket that's been covered in long pieces of black licorice. Underneath it, he's got on a fishnet shirt and leather pants as well as expensive loafers with bits of licorice artfully crisscrossed on the toes. He's even got a bowtie around his neck made of candy.
My heart starts to pound as he steps toward me and puts his hands on the hips of my sparkly pink dress. It's a bit too short and too tight for my liking, but it was the only one I could find that fit the theme of my costume.
"You both look and smell divine," he says with a sharp twist of his lips, leaning in to breathe the bubblegum smell that surrounds me. His usual scent of cinnamon and peppermint has been replaced with black licorice, but I don't mind. I actually like the stuff, despite the fact that everyone else I know hates it.
"Right back at you," I whisper, as he leans down and presses a kiss to the side of my throat. It's such a deliberate move, meant to make my blood boil.
It works.
I exhale and step away from him before I get too swept up in his presence. I want to check out the other guys and their costumes. We all worked so hard on the set, I need to take it all in.
Zayd is dressed up as a container of French fries—or chips as Windsor refers to them—but he's done it in such an artful way that he looks hot as hell at the same time. He's got on a pair of overalls with short legs. The suspenders are bright yellow, and the shorts part is red, like a container. He's painted a big, white McDonald's M on the ass, and made a brooch out of an order of small fries from a drive-thru. He glued them together, and I helped spray them with shellac.
Fortunately, he doesn't smell like his snack of choice and instead, when he embraces me, there's the usual clove, tobacco, and sage mixture that I've come to appreciate.
"You are beyond hot in that outfit," he whispers to me as Miranda scoffs and rolls her eyes, moving aside so Lizzie can slip out. She needed an extra minute to fix her makeup, so she's a step behind.
As soon as she appears though, I can feel her and Tristan looking at each other.
It's too much to deal with tonight, so I turn to Creed and grin. Miranda's twin is also a bitten off piece of watermelon, but instead of a dress, he's got a red shirt with black seeds, and a side cut-out that shows off his rock-hard abs. Around his neck, he's even wearing a chain with a piece of watermelon on it. As I watch, he lifts it up and takes a big bite out of it.
"At least I'm not a pirate this time," is all he says, and I grin. His pants are green, and honestly ugly as sin, but they work with the costume. And tell me this: how could Creed Cabot look anything but attractive?
"At least there's that," I agree, and I let him take my arm, ignoring the fact that Lizzie and Tristan are having some quiet conversation that I can't quite hear. She laughs, and he smiles at her. He smiles. My stomach twists, and I close my eyes against a surge of jealousy.
It's not fair for me to act like that.
I have five guys surrounding me, and Lizzie only has some distant fiancé she doesn't even like. If her and Tristan are meant to be then …
"Windsor, you're ridiculous," I say, because he's dressed up as a giant tea bag. Like, literally, he's wearing a freaking see-through shift with dried brown leaves glued and sewn to the inside, and he's got a long rope with a huge square tag hanging off of it that he's swinging around. It says English Breakfast Tea with a crown underneath it.
His red hair's sticking up as per usual, and he's got a silver tea spoon behind his ear.
The reference isn't lost on me. You know, born with a silver spoon in the mouth, meaning wealthy? Hah.
"Am I not the epitome of a youthful Adonis?" he says, the shift swirling around his bare legs. He's got boots on, but I'm not sure what else is underneath that ridiculous outfit. Hopefully underwear at the very least, but knowing the prince, maybe there's nothing at all. "I've already posted several photos on Instagram, and my mother's lost her mind." He grins like this is the greatest thing ever. "Oh, the bloody scandal. She definitely will not enjoy the tea bag references." He winks at me and I roll my eyes.
"At least you're a proper cup of English breakfast," I say, letting him take up my other arm. Zack is standing just in front of me, watching me carefully. We've been a little awkward with each other since the trip, but only because every time I look at him, heat flashes through me and I imagine his mouth on my breast.
I figure if I can still talk to Creed after the hot tub incident, we should be okay eventually.
But also, there's the fact that Zack's costume is … sort of non-existent.
"I feel fucking ridiculous," he says as I try to decide whether or not I should laugh … or cry … or drag him into my dorm room for another make-out session.
He's supposed to be a slice of pizza, but really he's sort of just wearing underwear, a tank top, and sneakers. The slice of pizza—made out of yellow, brown, and red felt for the cheese, crust, and pepperoni—has been glued to a very tight pair of new black boxer briefs. Up top, he's got a tank top on with the logo for a local pizza place.
He is pretty much naked.
"And I went in rainbow drag last year, so that tells you a lot."
I decide laughter's the best medicine, and let myself giggle at him until Miranda hip bumps her brother out of the way, takes my arm, and drags me down the hallway.
We head through the woods like we did last year, and I get all giddy and excited as I unlock the doors to the Maserati, and Miranda, Creed, and Windsor join me. Andrew takes his red Lamborghini with Lizzie, Tristan, and Myron. Tristan's bestie was waiting out here for us, leaning up against a tree, and dressed like some superhero I don't recognize. Not surprising considering I've never really been into superhero stuff.
Zack and Zayd take the orange McLaren, and we make a little caravan as our headlights sweep the darkness, heading for one of Windsor's family homes in the mountains. Most everyone at Burberry Prep who's rich enough has a home within a few hours of this area. It's considered one of the most beautiful and exclusive parts of the country, a new Californian haven that's trendier with the super-rich than L.A. ever was.
Fortunately, the zoning laws out here prevent too many new houses from being built, so I hope it stays pristine for a long time coming.
About an hour and fifteen minutes later, we head up a long, long drive to a massive gate, and then wait as Windsor gets out to put in the code. There are people here already, caterers, and party planners that the prince hired with his own money. Since they're not part of the usual staff who tend the property, he swears nobody will know we partied here until it's too late.
When we get inside, the house is decorated like a Halloween store, props everywhere, chandeliers with skulls, candelabras burning bright. I scream as I accidentally step on a trigger spot and a giant zombie lunges out at me.
"Oh, Charity," Zayd says, sweeping me up in his arms as we both start to laugh. He carries me into the kitchen—and holy shit, what a kitchen—and sets me on the center island. This island is bigger than the kitchen at my dad's new rental place which, actually, is about twice as large as the kitchen we had in the Train Car.
"I don't scare easily, I promise," I say, and then a giant spider drops from the ceiling, and I scream again, dissolving into laughter. Windsor grins at me and holds his arms out, shedding a few dry 'tea' leaves from his costume.
"What do you think, milady? Didn't I tell you I'd treat like you a princess? This whole place, this whole party, it's for your pleasure." He takes a sweeping bow, and t
hen stands back up. I'm grinning like crazy, but even as I'm writing his words off as being silly, I'm loving them, too.
"Did you get the pumpkins?" I ask, and he gives me this saucy look, like what do you think, your majesty? We head into the backyard to find more decorations hanging from the trees, giant spiderwebs stretching across the roof, and a series of tables with orange and black tablecloths. They're covered in pumpkins, paint, carving tools, and all sorts of pattern books.
Since we skipped out on the school party this year (we're third years, so like, way too cool for a party in the gym), we have time to hang out and carve jack-o-lanterns together before the other students show up.
Windsor sits beside me, turns his pumpkin around in a circle, sighs, and then glances my way.
"Love, I haven't the faintest clue what you want me to do with this thing." I grin, and reach over his lap to grab the pattern book lying next to him. Instead of simply letting me grab it, he pulls me into his lap, and we both just sit there for a minute. His mouth's near my ear, and I shiver when he whispers against it. "I hope you enjoy your Halloween party."
"I'm already enjoying it," I whisper back, and then I help him pick a pattern from the book, pin it to the side of the pumpkin, and trace the lines with the little pinwheel. When it comes time to start cutting the top off and cleaning out the pumpkin's guts, he ends up just wrapping his arms around my waist and letting me do the work.
I don't even care.
I love it.
I think the other boys are jealous. At least, I know Zayd is for sure. He brings me cider, and then cookies, and then sits super close to us on the left side. I don't mind though. What I do mind, even though I try not to, is watching Lizzie and Tristan carve pumpkins side by side.
It scares me.
Even though it shouldn't.
I focus instead on Windsor, and what's turning out to be a spectacularly crappy jack-o-lantern. Doesn't matter. Once it has the candle inside of it, and it's all lit up, it'll look great … from a distance.
We line the drive with our creations, and then open the gates for the crowd.
Everything is just fine until the ex-Bluebloods show up.
I exhale as I watch Harper, Becky, and Ileana step in through the open front doors, dressed as … well, I'm not really sure what they're dressed as. They all look like dominatrices to me. Then I realize they're all wearing badges, and holding batons, so I'm guessing they're sexy cops?
How … original.
Harper sees me straight away, and smiles. Her new lush locks of strawberry blond hair flowing behind her. I swear to God, if it's the last thing I do, those extensions are coming out. Bet they were pricey, too.
"You crashed my party, so I figured I'd crash yours, too," she says, coming right up to me. I don't back down, my tattoo throbbing (okay, so I know I'm imagining it, but I swear I can feel it), and the list burning a hole in my purse. If I close my eyes, I can see it.
Revenge On The Bluebloods of Burberry Prep
A list by Marnye Reed
The Girls: Harper du Pont, Becky Platter, and Ileana Taittinger
Their Cronies: Anna Kirkpatrick, Ebony Peterson, Gregory Van Horn, Abigail Fanning, John Hannibal, Valentina Pitt, Sai Patel, Mayleen Zhang, Jalen Donner, Kiara Xiao, and Ben Thresher
The Plebs
Before I graduate Burberry, I will see every name on this list crossed off, burnt to ash, and blown away in the wind. Assholes. Every single person on that list (except the Plebs, but I have no idea how I'm going to deal with them) was on the boat at the lake.
Every. Single. One.
They were going to let Harper break my fingers and take away my ability to make music forever. They were going to let Greg and John and Ben sexually assault me. As far as I'm concerned, they're all culpable. Besides, all the girls were in the pool that day. It wasn't one pair of hands that pushed me under, it was many.
Many, many hands.
"Welcome," Windsor says, appearing beside me, that special glint in his eyes that scared me from moment one. From the very first second he met the Bluebloods of Burberry Preparatory Academy, he was ready to thrown down. Looking at him now, I see that same focused energy that reminds me of a wolf on the prowl.
Windsor York is looking for prey.
"We hope you enjoy Marnye's party," he continues, grinning as Harper gives him a strange look. She knows something's up, but she also knows that if she doesn't make an appearance here, she's done for. Ileana and Becky exchange looks behind her, but they don't say anything before they move off to get drinks.
The other ex-Bluebloods—I've just started calling them the Company in my head because, like, Harper and Company makes sense to me—have already filtered into the crowd and disappeared.
My stomach twists as I see Kiara Xiao glaring at me, her angel costume leaning a bit more toward the devilish side, if you catch my drift. I'm not slut-shaming or anything, I'm just saying I don't think angels wear tiny white bikinis and cowboy boots.
"Hey," Windsor says, reaching up to brush his thumb across my lips. "Don't let them get to you."
"If you're being so chummy with them," I yell over the music, "then I'm worried because you've got something planned." He cuts me off with a kiss, and I'm so surprised that I let him take me into his arms. Kissing Windsor is … it's surreal. We were friends for an entire year, and now … The moment I saw him though, I was attracted to him. He knows it; I know it. And yet, all I can think about are his previous invitations. It'll be fun, but it won't last long. Why would he say that? Is that what he's still thinking?
And yet, I move back, taking Windsor with me until we're pushed against a wall.
He puts his palms on either side of me and pulls back just enough to grin.
The Backstreet Boys' Everybody (Backstreet's Back) music video is playing on the giant screen behind Windsor, the Halloween theme oh-so-appropriate for the occasion. I'm not really looking at it, though. No, I'm looking at a prince, and his dilated pupils, and the slight sheen of moisture on his lower lip from kissing me.
"You worry too much, milady. Relax. I planned this all for you."
He kisses me again, and my heart tumbles inside my chest. It was a like a dream when he waltzed into the academy, declared me the most beautiful girl in school, and took up my mantle of revenge as his own. But there are two sides to every coin, and I'm wondering what's going to happen when Windsor's flips.
Later, when most of the partygoers are drunk, I'm sitting with Zayd and Creed in one of the game rooms, playing a round of poker. The stakes this time are pretty small comparatively. Whichever guy wins gets to take me on a date next weekend (which makes me nervous as hell). But if I win, I get to take them both. Pretty sure that this is a win-win-win scenario for me, and I'm okay with that.
After a while, I start to notice that the room is emptying out.
That's what makes me nervous.
Once our game finishes—I win, boys, sorry—I head out into the main hall and find Harper screaming in Tristan's face.
"Where the fuck are my friends, you psycho?" she shouts, and someone turns the music down. Tristan simply stands there with his fingers in his pockets. Lizzie's on one side of him, and Windsor's on the other.
Creed and Zayd exchange a look.
"What the hell is going on?" I ask them, spinning around and feeling this strange tightness in my throat. Obviously, I want my revenge. I just don't want things to get as dark as they did on the lake.
"We have to make a stand to protect you," Zayd explains, voice soft. "But we don't want you to have to dig so deep. This is Club business, and you shouldn't have to get involved."
I turn back around as Zack unlocks the door on the opposite side of the entryway.
The Company stumbles out, cursing and shouting. Every single one of them was in there, other than Harper.
And … they're all bald.
Like totally and completely bald.
My mouth drops open and I clamp both hands over my mouth. Harper se
es them all and shrieks one of her pterodactyl shrieks. That's before Tristan and Windsor grab her by the arms and push her down into one of the chairs. Lizzie steps up with a buzzer in hand while Harper screams.
Several of Harper's cronies rush forward to help, but Zayd, Creed, Zack, Myron, and even Andrew step in to hold them back. The Plebs are eating this drama up with a spoon, and I notice not a single one of them steps in to help or hurt the situation.
"Miranda," I whisper as she grabs my arm, eyes wide. She glances over at me, but I can see she knows about as well as I do what's going on here.
"I'm going to fucking kill you!" Harper screams as Lizzie buzzes her hair clean off her head. Sheets of shiny, beautiful extensions falling into her pleather-clad lap. "I'm going to send a hitman after your shared whore!"
I don't react to that. In the past, I might've cringed, or felt ashamed, or … something. Tonight, I … I'm not sure what I feel. I move up to stand in front of her, waiting as Lizzie finishes her gruesome chore and steps back, turning off the buzzer.
Harper's so mad that she's spitting.
If she hadn't tried to kill me—or wasn't threatening to kill me now—I might feel sorry for her. I'm a little pissed at the guys for not telling me their plan though.
We'll talk about it later.
Windsor and Tristan release Harper, and she stands up, touching her hands to her bristly head. There's pure fury in her eyes as she looks at me, and I can tell I've become the sole source and focus of her hatred.
Maybe because I'm an easy target?
"Do you have any idea of the mistake you've just made?" Harper sneers, so angry that she's shaking. Some of the Company boys look like they might start a fight with us, but then they look around and remember whose house they’re standing in and change their minds. "I hope your little whore is worth it," Harper says, looking from one of my boys to the other, "and don't think we don't know that you're all dating her."
The Envy of Idols Page 15