Stuck With The Four Hotties

I don’t let myself enjoy the sight for too long, heading back for Creed’s Bentley next. I do the same thing, scraping it along the other vehicles, and leaving it floating in the water with the windows rolled down. I’m not sure how long it’ll take to sink (pretty sure it only takes a few minutes), but I don’t care. Just seeing it partially submerged in water is enough.

Zayd’s car is last, and by the time I’m letting that roll over the edge, both Andrew and Zack are standing on the back patio watching.

Zayd is not far behind.

“Holy … what the fuck?!” he screams as I stand there on the edge of the pool, barefoot and frowning. I don’t smile as I pick up my shoes from the pavement and watch him stumble over to the edge of the water. The cars are very quickly disappearing beneath the surface. “Jesus Christ, are you fucking insane?!”

“You can’t go around hurting people and expect to just get away with it,” I tell him, glad that the kiss is already fading from my mind. I feel better now, more in control. I curl my hands into fists as Zayd drops to his knees next to the pool.

“My dad is going to flay me,” he groans, putting his hands over his face. “Babe?” Becky asks as she steps out the back door. She gasps and clamps

a hand over her mouth as I flip open the top on my purse and dig around inside. “Oh my god. Oh my freaking god. Harper! Tristan!” Becky stumbles outside in her four inch stilettos and turns to look at me, face aghast with horror. “You psycho bitch,” she snarls, blond curls billowing in the wind. I reach into my purse, grab the fancy scissors I bought from the salon, and then reach up and chop a huge hunk of her hair off at the scalp.

She screams and stumbles back toward the edge of the pool. It doesn’t take much for me to reach over and push her in.

Miranda and Jessie appear just as the splash dissipates and Becky comes gasping to the surface, hauling herself over the edge. Zayd helps her up, but

then just leaves her lying soggy and wet on the pavement as he turns to me. The edge of my lip quirks up in a half-smile, and I shrug one shoulder.

“I give as good as I get,” I say, just as Tristan, Harper, Creed, and Ileana appear in the doorway. I wonder if she’s going to be the next female Idol, taking Gena Whitley’s place. At this point, I really don’t care. I chuck the scissors in the pool, reach into my bra, and grab Andrew’s keys. “Guys, you ready to go?”

Miranda makes a tiny squeaking sound and nods, grabbing Jessie by the arm and dragging her towards the Lambo. Andrew follows, and Zack pauses beside me, watching as I take in the Idols and their gaping faces. Even Tristan is wide-eyed, his face stricken. Actually, Creed seems the calmest. He turns to look at me, much like his sister did, like he’s never seen me before.

“Do you have any idea what you’ve just done?” he asks, sounding as bored as he ever does. I meet his blue gaze, and ignore the little thrill that travels through me. I chalk it up to adrenaline. I’m practically dripping with it right now. “We report you and you’re done. Permanently.”

“Right,” I say, pulling my journal out and cracking the lock. As the party filters outside and the music stops, I scribble some things down inside before looking back up again. “Tell the administration how I somehow single- handedly got these three cars that you’re not supposed to have, in the pool of a house we’re not supposed to be at, surrounded by alcohol we’re not supposed to be drinking, and see if that does the trick. Maybe I’ll be expelled, maybe not. How satisfying would that win be for you?”

Several students lift up their phones and start recording, so I stop talking. I won’t say anything else. I don’t need to: Creed’s face tells me everything I need to know. His shoulders stiffen, his jaw tightens, and his heavy-lidded eyes narrow to slits.

Without waiting another beat, I turn and head back to Andrew’s car with Zack on my heels. Just before I climb in, I look at him, standing so close I can feel the heat of his body. He smells like citrus and musk, and my heart skips a few beats. I look up into his dark gaze.

“Thank you, but … this doesn’t change anything.” He digs his hands into his pockets and shrugs his shoulders.

“I know. It’s fine.” He nods; I nod.

And then I climb in the Lamborghini and drive away.

When I get back to the academy, I change my clothes, wash the makeup from my face and the hairspray from my hair, and then I report the Bluebloods for drinking.

Oh, and their breathalyzers … don’t exactly zero out.

the room.

Fighting my way through the crowd, I somehow find my way over to Zack.

He takes one look at my face and curses.

“They’re still getting to you,” he growls at me as I stand there with my face flushed, feeling weirdly alien in my short dress and heels. I just look up at him, and I have no idea what to say. That it sucks to be crushing on the very same people you hate? That I know I’m an idiot, that I should be an emotionless badass in a catsuit, as tough and capable as my favorite urban fantasy character.

But I’m not.

“I … I need Tristan’s car keys, and a serious distraction,” I choke out, and Zack raises his dark brows at me. I cannot even believe I’m asking him for help, but there it is. He just stares at me for a moment, and then nods. Without a word, he pushes past me and then pauses when Andrew appears, breathless and holding out a jangling set of keys in his palm. “Thank you,” I tell him, feeling a rush of adrenaline spike through me. I look to Zack, and he smiles with tight lips, pushing forward and finding John Hannibal in the crowd.

John turns to look at him, scowling slightly, and then Zack just hauls back and punches him right in the face.

“Fight!” someone screams, and the crowd surges toward that single point in the room, jostling me and Andrew in the process. I take his hand and push in the opposite direction, toward the back doors and the swimming pool. Once we’re outside, I kick off my shoes and take off running, hauling Andrew along with me.Text © by N0ve/lDrama.Org.

“Make sure nobody comes out here,” I tell him, heading straight for Tristan’s dad’s Ferrari Spider. For some reason, I want to fuck with him first. Exhaling sharply, and holding strong to that red-hot thread of revenge inside of me, I climb into the driver’s seat, start the vehicle and use it like a bumper car, slamming into the other students’ rides indiscriminately. I don’t go too hard or too fast, just enough to scrape, scratch, and ding as many as I can without making too much noise.

When I get to the edge of the pool, I climb out, put the car in neutral, and then move around behind to push it. Andrew starts to come toward me, but I shake my head, and he goes inside the house. At first, I can’t figure out what

he’s up to, but then I hear the volume of the music crank up a few notches. A grin takes over my face as I step back and watch the eighteen million dollar car drive right over the edge, and into the swimming pool.

Believe me, this is an Olympic sized swimming pool, made of pure cash. It’s huge, as long as the house is, with fountains and water slides, faux coves and caves and bits of aesthetically pleasing rock. There’s plenty of room for a car. Or two. Or three.