The Envy of Idols

by Stunich, C. M.

  The lake where we’re having our picnic is the very same one that I attended my first Infinity Club party at, in the upper northeast section of campus. When we get there, there’s already a picnic table set up with a white cloth, an old-fashioned looking basket, and bottles of chilled sparkling cider.

  My cheeks flush, and I bite my lip.

  “Too cheesy?” Zack asks, tucking his hands into his pockets, but it’s not, and I shake my head.

  “Not to me,” I tell him, taking a seat and finding out that inside the basket, he’s put all my favorite foods: purple grapes, salami and crackers, hummus and pretzels, dried banana chips, and dark chocolate with sea salt.

  The spot Zack’s picked is so close to the water that when I kick off my shoes, I can dip my toe in. Of course, even though it’s sunny outside, it’s still February, and the lake’s a bit icy. Birds chirp, and the trees rustle pleasantly in the wind.

  “You know I’m not playing around, right?” he asks me, standing up and moving over to sit on my side of the table, so close that I can feel his body heat.

  “I never thought you were,” I tell him, but he’s already shaking his head.

  “No, but … when I saw you that morning after …” Neither of us needs to say it: we both know exactly what he’s talking about. After I slept with Creed. “I knew I wasn’t trying hard enough. Marnye,” Zack continues, grabbing my wrist and pulling me into his lap. The boys do that a lot, and I let them because I like it. I really, really do. “You’ve been asking me lately about college and my plans for the future. But you know what? You are my plan for the future. You’re what I want.”

  “Zack,” I start, but he lifts his fingers up and brushes them down the side of my face. His heart is racing as fast as mine. I can see it in the thundering of the pulse point in his throat.

  “It’s true. You said it yourself: we have everything. We want for nothing. But that’s not true. The only thing I’ve ever really wanted with a passion is you.” He pulls my face close and then kisses me with the scent of sweet grapes on his breath, his tongue tasting me as carefully as I sampled that chocolate earlier. And the sounds he makes are so dark and tinged with need that I wonder if he finds me as decadent as I did our dessert.

  We start to kiss, my hands winding around his neck, fingers playing with the fine, soft hairs at the base of his scalp. I’m essentially straddling him now, and I realize how short my dress is. It’s already riding up, and I shiver as a cool breeze sweeps across the lake and gives me goose bumps.

  “Let’s go back to the car,” he whispers, and I nod, sliding off so he can stand up. The first thing he does is give me his letterman jacket. It’s huge on me, but I love swimming in all that Zack-scented fabric. “It’s as long as your damn dress,” he murmurs, but in a very appreciative sort of way.

  We pack up the remainder of our picnic, and take the short winding path back to the car.

  Zack slides into the passenger seat and pulls me onto his lap, closing the doors of his orange McLaren, and trapping us in our own private little bubble. He sweeps his arms around me, and I revel in the feeling of strength, of being protected.

  “Oh, Marnye,” he murmurs, putting one of his big hands on the back of my head and pulling me in for a kiss. The way Zack Brooks kisses is so different from the other boys, slow and sensual and romantic in a way that can’t be faked. He really believes in that kind of stuff, that fuck-the-rest-of-the-world, sun-is-always-shining, pink-clouds-are-in-the-sky sort of romance. Soulmates. Together forever. Young love.

  I groan as Zack sucks on my bottom lip, the faintest brush of his stubble on his face tickling me as he moves his mouth along the line of my jaw, and down my throat, paying special attention to the racing of my pulse. Between my thighs, I can feel him growing hard in his jeans, his letterman jacket swimming on my shoulders, decorated for both varsity football and track and field.

  He pushes my dress up my legs and cups my ass.

  “Let’s go back to the academy,” he whispers, pulling me against him. It feels so good, I don’t want to stop. But he’s right. I’m not ready to have sex in a sportscar next to the lake. That’s a bit next level for a noob like me.

  “Okay,” I reply, voice shaky, already wondering if I’m crazy.

  I’ve only had sex twice, and until a month a half ago, I was still a virgin.

  Am I really going to go home with a second guy?

  I ask myself why it matters so much. I care about Creed, and I care about Zack. If there was a gun to my head right now, I’m not sure that I could choose between them, so what’s wrong with going back to his dorm? I … love him.

  My body flushes with heat, and I push the door open, letting Zack climb out so he can get in the driver’s seat. I don’t tell him about the thought that I just had. I don’t even think about.

  The sex … I can handle.

  I’m not sure if I’m ready for the rest of it.

  Zack and I stand in silence in the elevator in Tower Three, him with his arms crossed over his broad chest, his pants, um, bulging in a certain special spot. He looks up at the ceiling and exhales, and I can’t stop a giggle from escaping.

  “What?” he asks, lifting a brow at me. He looks almost as nervous as I do.

  “Just … us.” I lift my head up and chew on my lip for a moment, glancing sideways at my reflection I the mirrored wall. I hardly recognize myself, with that short rose-gold hair. The only damage from the Harpies’ attack was that it’s a bit shorter on the sides than it was before. Miranda cleaned it all up, so there wouldn’t be any patchy spots, and I have to say, it honestly looks better than it did before. “Me and you. We’re so nervous.”

  He laughs then, and swipes a big hand down his face.

  “That’s true,” he admits as the door opens and we step into the hall. I wait anxiously as Zack unlocks the door to his dorm and steps aside, so I can go in. He doesn’t bother to turn the lights on, instead moving over to the living room window and tosses aside the curtains. The sun is sinking behind the horizon, but there’s still plenty of orange-gold light to see by.

  “You … you’re not a virgin, are you?” I ask in a whisper, wondering with a small twinge of jealousy what might’ve happened if he hadn’t walked away from me in middle school, if he’d stuck around and our relationship had bloomed from the seed of that first kiss. Then again, maybe he wasn’t ready? Maybe I wasn’t?

  “N-no.” Zack pauses and turns to look at me, exhaling sharply. “But I’m clean. I …” He scowls briefly and moves over to the kitchenette area, taking a manila folder off the stone countertop and handing it over to me. “Zayd and Tristan heard me talking about having tests done, and they fucking copied me.”

  “Oh, so you thought of it first?” I tease as I flip open the folder and scan the pages inside. My cheeks heat up as I close it and hand it back. This is all so very adult. What happened between me and Creed was a little … messier.

  “Pretty much,” Zack teases, tossing the folder aside, and stepping forward. He puts his hands on either side of my hips and pins me against the counter with his body. His sporty smell is all around me, an aphrodisiac that lures me into boldness. “Is there anything else you want to know about … any past girlfriends? Because I only want to say it once, and then I want to move on. Fuck them all. They’re nothing compared to you.”

  “Don’t demean other women like that,” I whisper, swallowing hard. “Saying things like you’re not like other girls is a tool of the patriarchy. Actually, did you know that in the 1920s—”

  “Oh, fuck yeah, keep talking history and politics,” Zack murmurs, undulating his hips against me, so I can feel his hard-on through his jeans. “It’s hot as hell.”

  “Liar,” I whisper, but then he reaches down and takes my hand, putting it on his crotch. His eyes are molten when I look up and into them.

  “Does that feel like a lie?” he asks, and I almost excuse myself to the bathroom to squeal. Several times this year, I’ve woken up, looked around, and
wondered whose life this is. It’s surreal.

  “How many girls have you slept with?” I ask, and Zack pauses, like he has to think for a moment.

  “Five.”

  I cringe, and he shrugs his broad shoulders.

  “Before this is all over, you might have five guys under your belt, Marnye.” He cups the side of my face and rubs a thumb up the side of my jaw. He’s right though. What morality dais do I have to stand on and judge him? What even is morality anyway? And is that really a debate I want to have with myself while my hand is cupping Zack Brooks’ crotch? No. Nope. Definitely not. “Anything else? Names? Circumstances?”

  “No.” I shake my head vehemently. “No, that’s enough. Thank you.”

  “Can I focus on making love to you now?” he asks, and my face flushes.

  “Making love?” I squeak as Zack sweeps me up into his muscular arms and carries me into his bedroom. He opens his curtains, so we can see the sunset, and then chucks his shirt. His body is a freaking wonderland. Broad shoulders, trim waist, those perfect ‘V’ muscles on his hips. I’m practically drooling as I look him over. The only thing I’m not a huge fan of is the infinity tattoo on his right hip.

  “Making love, Marnye. I told you before and I’ll say it again. I’m not fucking ashamed of it. I love you.”

  “Stop it, Zack,” I whisper, but he doesn’t seem to have any intention of doing that. He kicks off his shoes and socks, and then yanks my flats off, tossing them against the wall. The letterman jacket he leaves on me.

  “Why is that so hard for you to accept?” he asks as he crawls onto the bed and pauses above me on all fours. His brown eyes are so deep that I feel like I could fall into them and tumble forever. “You’re worthy of my love and then some. Sometimes I wonder if the universe is trying to teach me a lesson by giving you so many goddamn boyfriends. I’m not enough. You deserve it all.”

  “Zack.” I put my hands on either side of his face, and he leans down to kiss, tasting my mouth with slow, easy motions, carefully settling himself on top of me, so that our bodies are melded together. His fingers push up my dress the same way he did in the car, but this time, there’s nobody around to see.

  He finds my panties and then draws back, separating from my mouth with a groan.

  “You taste so damn good,” Zack whispers, pulling the pink heart-patterned panties all the way off and chucking them onto the floor. Gently, carefully, he pushes my knees apart, and my heart thunders. It was dark when Creed and I had sex. It’s definitely not dark in here. At first, the thought of Zack looking at me freaks me out. “You’re beautiful, Marnye. Every single part of you.”

  I’m trembling as Zack moves forward, settling himself between my thighs and tasting me in a wholly and completely different way from before.

  My eyes water and I fling my head back into the pillows, breathing like I’m running a marathon and letting the sensations of Zack’s mouth and tongue settle over me. It feels so good that I end up burying my fingers in his chocolate colored hair and gripping on for dear life. He grunts, but he doesn’t stop until I’m shaking and shivering, my body rebelling against the waves of pleasure.

  Zack seems to sense it’s time, and slides two fingers into me, giving me a climax that rocks my body so hard that I’m still trembling and shaking when he rises back up and looks down at me like I’m the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

  “Do I have to take the jacket off?” he whispers, grinning as I shake my head. I’m having trouble remembering my own name right now, let alone how to make words. Zack kisses me again, caressing my body with his hands, kneading my breasts through the fabric of the dress. I let my hands explore his muscular body, pausing to tease his nipples. He seemed to like it before, at the B&B, so …

  Nothing’s changed since then, and soon I’ve got him moaning against me, rocking his denim-clad body against the bareness of my core.

  The sun finally sinks beneath the horizon, but the moon’s full enough to see by, and we’re in no hurry to get up and turn the lights on.

  After a while, Zack undoes his jeans and then stands up, shucking both his pants and boxers to the floor. He climbs back onto the bed with me and guides my hand to his body, showing me how to stroke and tease him until he’s moving against my palm, panting heavily.

  “Now,” I whisper when my skin starts to feel hot and achy, like it’s trapping my spirit inside.

  “Of course,” he murmurs, biting my lower lip and reaching over to open the drawer on his bedside table. He has a box of unopened condoms in there. Good. For a second there, I was about to freak out. I’d just sort of assumed he hadn’t slept with anyone since transferring to Burberry Prep … Then again, I don’t want to know. Either way, I do not want to know. “I don’t know how you and Creed—” He stops himself because he’s grinding his teeth so damn hard. “But if there’s a different position you want to try …”

  “Oh. Um.”

  My heart thunders, and I feel myself flush as I prop myself up on my elbows, and then … you know, turn over.

  Zack chuckles, and the sound vibrates through me, taking over my entire body, right down to my blood and bones. He fits the condom on, and then touches his big hands to my hips. He positions himself against me, and I curl my fingers into the sheets. He isn’t quite as slow as Creed when he enters me, but I like it anyway, and a small sound escapes me.

  Our bodies connect fully and I see starbursts.

  “I’ve got you, Marnye,” he whispers as he begins to move, and before the night is over, I’ve shuddered, climaxed, and fallen apart in his arms more than once.

  I fall asleep wrapped in the safety of his big, broad arms, his jacket still on my shoulders, his heart beating against my cheek.

  There are no etiquette guides online for how to tell four of your boyfriends that you slept with number five. It just doesn’t exist.

  “Were they pissed?” Miranda whispers, eyes wide as I sit on the couch in her and Creed’s apartment, wondering when he’s going to come back so I can see him before I head back to my own room.

  “I just … I don’t understand how it works,” Lizzie says, grimacing slightly, her bouncy curls swept up into a high pony. She’s on the floor, twirling a spoon around in a container of ice cream. “I’m the jealous type I guess. I could never share.”

  “Me neither,” I say with a guilty shrug of my shoulders. I curl my knees up on the couch and put my arms around them. “But I don’t have to. They’re not allowed to date anyone else, that’s how our arrangement works. I told them it was their punishment for all the things they’d done to me. For once in their spoiled, privileged little lives, they can’t have everything exactly when and how they want it.”

  “I happen to think you’ve changed Creed for the better,” Miranda declares, and there’s a softness in her gaze that’s getting easier over time. The more time she spends with Jessie, the less she looks at me like that. Not that I mind. I just … unrequited love sucks.

  I look over at Lizzie without meaning to and her amber eyes lock on mine.

  Maybe Tristan’s love is requited? I have no idea. We don’t talk about Lizzie much.

  “So,” Miranda begins and my head snaps up as I sense a bout of crassness ready to spill from her pretty lips, “did you and Tristan ever sleep together?”

  “Mandy,” I grind out, but she waves me away. She’s just eaten one of the pot chocolates I got from Zayd during first year. I have yet to try any, but Miranda found them in my stuff and ate one about … forty-five minutes ago. Pretty sure the effects of the THC are kicking in now.

  “It’s fine, we’re all girlfriends,” she says, and Andrew glances up from his phone screen. “What? You could be a girlfriend, too, if you’d stop sucking up to your dad and just tell him you want to bang Gary Jacobs.”

  “Not ready for that, but ‘kay, thanks,” Andrew says, rolling his eyes and then giving Lizzie a look. “You don’t have to answer her question, you know.”

  “I know,” Lizzie whi
spers, glancing back at me. “But it’s fine, I don’t mind. No, Tristan and I never had sex. We kissed, but … that’s pretty much it.” My heart soars, even though I feel like an asshole, and I do my best to clamp down on the emotion. Whether they did it together or not has nothing to do with my feelings toward Tristan.

  I don’t know why I’m harping on this. I just went over it with Zack.

  The past doesn’t matter except as a history lesson, a series of mistakes to be learned from. It’s the present that defines us, and the future we look toward with hope. Waxing poetic, again. I looked it up online, you know, spontaneous word vomit in the brain, and the number one symptom that kept coming up was love. Over and over and over again.

  I chucked my phone against the wall in frustration and nearly broke it.

  “So, they weren’t pissed?” Miranda asks, bringing us full circle back to the start of the conversation.

  “Jealous, maybe,” I say, thinking of Zayd’s clenched jaw. “But not pissed at me. At each other, more like.”

  “I wish I had a harem of girls fighting over me,” Lizzie says with a wistful sigh, just before the door opens and Creed walks in. He sees me sitting there, and slips out of his red academy jacket, giving that cavalier smirk that I used to hate but now crave with a frenzy I can’t explain.

  “Did you come over to fuck me?” he asks with a saucy little wink, sauntering over and unfolding his long, boneless princely body on the couch between me and Lizzie.

  “No. Did you wake up deciding to be asshole today?” I ask, but all I get are a pair of heavy-lidded blue bedroom eyes, and a racing heart. “We were just discussing what happened between me and Zack.” Creed scowls, but he doesn’t say anything. How could he? He went out of his way to flaunt girls in front of me last year, just to make me feel sad and lonely and jealous.

  And I’m not doing any of this to make him feel bad.