Stuck With The Four Hotties

According to the program that’s on the back side of my menu, the music doesn’t start until after we eat. As of right now, there’s the faintest whisper of classical music coming from the speakers.

Creed rejoins us just before dinner service starts, and Zayd gives him a knowing smirk.

“What the hell were you doing in there? Taking a shit?”

“Oh stop,” Miranda groans as Creed smirks, and scoots his chair closer to me, putting his arm around my shoulders.

“I was taking care of a little problem,” he says, his blond hair obscuring his eyes. He leans in close and turns so that his lips are against my cheek. “And I thought of you while I did it.”

“Did you just infer you jerked off in the bathroom?” I choke, and Creed leans back in his seat, all lazy and happy as a sated cat. He doesn’t answer, but Zayd’s howling laughter and Miranda’s red face tell me all I need to know. I catch her leaning in to whisper to Andrew a few times and decide that if they are dating, they haven’t been very discreet about it. They’re always together, and they do weird things, but … maybe I didn’t see it before is because there’s no spark? Zero. They look like friends, and that’s it.

The spark I’m feeling with Creed is a hundred times theirs, and I don’t even like the guy.

“It’s them, isn’t it?” Creed whispers, just before warm bread and butter is served, drink orders taken. I don’t respond, but I really don’t think so. At

some point, I’m just going to have to ask.

Dinner is extravagant, as usual, but everything is good, even foods I’ve never tried before.

The eyes of every person in that room are on us, observing what the Idols eat, how they sit, what they’re laughing about. I’m now sitting at the table I spotted that first day of school, the one brimming with energy and charisma. A smile curves my lips, and a warmth bubbles in my chest.

I feel like … I belong.

After dessert is served-a fantastic chocolate torte with fresh fruit and edible silver beads-Creed stands up and offers me his hand, making us the first couple on the dance floor in the middle of all the tables. There are silver streamers made of stars above our heads, vases stuffed with fresh flowers, and little white Christmas trees decorated with twinkling lights.

The band that takes up the stage is young, hot, and clearly very recognizable. Every student in that room goes nuts when they start playing, and I feel like the gap in my pop culture knowledge is showing. Creed doesn’t seem bothered, helping me through the bouncier songs and holding me during the slow ones. He’s got this permanent half-smile on his face that I think might actually be real.

Dancing with him is not like dancing with Zayd. Zayd Kaiser is a force in and of himself, pulling me into orbit, making my body move with his. Creed is a patient teacher, showing me where to go but expecting I’ll get there on my own. I like both approaches. I wonder how Tristan would danFe? The thought pops into my head, and my eyes flick back to the table to find him watching me.

He doesn’t seem interested in dancing tonight. But his gaze is dark, inquisitive. It gives me the chills-in a good way.

I focus back on Creed, his blue eyes staring into mine, his hands drifting lower. He cups my ass briefly before readjusting his hands. My mouth drops open, and his smile gets a bit wider, his eyes still half-lidded. Bedroom eyes, that’s what he has. I hadn’t figured out how to describe them before, but that’s the expression he’s always got on, like he’s about to have sex.

“You should tutor me,” he says after a while. “You’d make a sexy teacher, and I could use the boost to my grades.” My brows go up, but that’s not a bad idea. Burberry Prep has an official tutoring program I could enroll in, and get credit for. And then I’d get to spend some one-on-one time with Creed …Please check at N/ôvel(D)rama.Org.

When the band takes a break, Creed leads me up to the top deck. Even though it’s freezing outside, we huddle up on one of the benches and look out across the water at the glittering lights of the academy campus. Creed takes off his white jacket and covers my shoulders with it, pulling me into his lap again. It’s ice-cold out here, and my thighs were sticking to the bench, so I’m more than happy with the arrangement.

My right arm is around is neck, fingers teasing the fine blond hairs there.

We don’t talk, just watch the horizon as the boat makes it way along the shore and then turns around to head back toward the harbor. Between the food and the dancing and … whatever this is that’s happening between me and Creed, I find that my eyelids are starting to droop. I end up resting my head on his shoulder, nestled in the crook of his neck.

“Thank you for the shoes,” I whisper, and then Creed’s turning and lifting my chin with his fingers.

Slowly, almost slowly enough that it feels like we’re not moving at all, Creed and I lean in. His fingers slide to the back of my neck, and our mouths meet. There’s no tongue at first, just lips, but then Creed pulls me closer, adjusting my body so that I’m straddling him.

I’ve never done anything like this before, and my body throbs like crazy. It feels so damn good, I want to keep going. My hands curl together behind Creed’s neck and we kiss until I feel him stir beneath me again.

No. Shit, no.

I’ve known this guy for four months, and he’s treated me like crap for most of them.

“I … have to go,” I whisper, tearing away from him and racing down the length of the boat to the bathroom.

Before I can slip in the door, Tristan is stepping in front of me and blocking my way.

“What-” I start, and then he grabs me by the hips, pulling me forward and crushing me against his body. Creed’s jacket slides off my shoulders and flutters to the ground as Tristan digs his fingers into my hair and claims my mouth with his own.

My entire body collapses in his arms.

My own fingers dig into the front of his sharp black tux, clawing for more. It’s like I’ve been shot with Cupid’s arrow, slowly drowning in need and want. Wake up, Marnye! I shout at myself, but I can barely move, barely

breathe. The only thing that matters in that moment is that Tristan’s tongue is sweeping against my own, his hands squeezing my hips.

He takes me to the edge of what I can handle, and then steps back abruptly, releasing me.

His gray eyes glimmer with lust, and even though he’s now scowling at me, it’s quite clear that he’s interested.

“What … was that for?” I pant, bending down to pick up Creed’s jacket. My heart is pounding. I’m going to have to tell him about this kiss. I have to. “Just remember that Creed isn’t the only one that’s interested.” Tristan turns and stalks down the length of the boat. My lips are swollen, my heart pounding, and I know I’m going to need a moment before I can face any of

the guys again.

I slip into the bathroom and push in the door to the first stall without checking to see if it’s occupied.

It is. And it’s not locked.

It swings open and reveals Miranda, sitting on the toilet with her lipstick smeared and tears running down her face. She snaps her gaze up to me, eyes wide, and then shoves the door closed again.

When she comes out a few minutes later, we don’t mention it.

“I’m going to grab another torte,” she says finally, disappearing and taking the awkwardness with her.

After going to the bathroom and washing my hands in the coldest water I can manage, I head back to Creed, and I blurt it out.

“Tristan kissed me,” I whisper, feeling my cheeks flush as he turns his half-lidded eyes on me. “And I think … I kissed him back.”

“Do you like him?” Creed asks, lounging on the bench, the only noticeable sign of his discomfort the way his hand curls into the white fabric of his slacks.

“I don’t know,” I whisper, sitting down beside him. I’m so confused.

Thank god winter break starts tomorrow.

I’m not sure how much of this I can handle without a breather.