Bad, Bad Blu Bloods

by Stunich, C. M.

  “I need to make them fall in love …” I start, and the task feels so monumental that I don’t even know where to begin. I’m running out of time, and my dad’s future is on the line.

  “Oh, love,” Windsor says with a chuckle. He pushes his red hair up and off of his forehead. “You know how I’d first guessed you’d fucked?” I nod, warily, but I acknowledge him. “I thought that’s what I was sensing, but I was wrong.”

  “Right, because I’ve never … slept with any of them.” I’ve only made Creed come in a hot tub, I think, and I want to choke and then disappear into a hole in the ground. “So what?”

  “You’ve already won, you shagging wanker,” Windsor says, shaking his head at me. “If you ask, they’ll go to your party with you. It’s so bloody obvious it’s practically written on the wall.” I gape at him, but he seems so damn sure of himself, it’s hard not to … freak out and feel satisfied at the same time.

  “They don’t love me,” I say, and Windsor shrugs, the epaulettes on his jacket wrinkling with the motion.

  “They like you enough that they’ll go. Just ask, Marnye. Take them, crush them, win your bet, and then figure out if forgiveness is something you’re interested in.” He frowns briefly. “Although I was looking forward to eating them alive. You will let me help with the rest of your blue-blooded friends however, won’t you?”

  I nod, but I’m so speechless, I don’t know what to say.

  Windsor grins, puts his arm around my shoulders, and leads me away from The Mess.

  “Let’s go get you a drink: you could clearly use one.” I follow along after him, even though I have no intention of consuming any alcohol. Guess I needn’t have worried: as soon as we get to his dorm room, Windsor makes me a cup of tea with milk and two sugars. And he’s right: after I drink it, everything seems just that much clearer to me.

  It’s a fine balancing act, keeping up with all of my relationships. And I don’t just mean the ones with the guys, Miranda and Andrew and Lizzie, too. The end of the year academic load is heavy, and I find that I spend most of my time just trying to keep up with my activities, let alone my friendships and my … other entanglements.

  Creed is the first one I ask, marching right into his apartment after Miranda opens the door, and pausing next to him while he lounges on the couch. My face is bright red, but I’ve got some of my conviction back. Whatever happens with the boys later, they need to learn a lesson now. I’ll take them to the getaway, and I’ll see how they react. After all, I survived it. They can, too.

  “Go to the graduation getaway as my date?” I ask, and Creed glances lazily up at me. He’s so beyond gorgeous it’s hard to believe what actually happened between us. “To the party I mean, at the Royal Pointe Lodge. Go with me, officially.”

  “Harper won’t like that,” Creed says, and I end up scowling. His eyebrows go up in surprise.

  “I don’t care what Harper likes. She doesn’t own me. Does she own you?” This time, it’s Creed that’s sneering. He runs his tongue across his lower lip, and then nods, once, sharply.

  “Fine then.” He pauses. “Wear my dress?”

  I consider that a moment, and then shrug.

  I chose once, and it didn’t feel good. This is sort of the opposite scenario, but I still won’t choose. Either all three Idol guys go with me, or none at all.

  The next day, I make sure to seek Tristan out while he’s separated from Harper, leaning against his locker with one shoulder, eyes closed. He seems surprised to see me when he finally opens them up.

  “What do you want?” he asks, like we didn’t hang out for a week in Paris, or share a kiss in The Mess. I’ve given him back his jewelry, just like he asked. He barely said thank you. I’m starting to wonder if taking Windsor’s advice is a mistake. I feel like Tristan is nowhere near ready to say yes to this. He looks so unapproachably gorgeous that I don’t know what to do.

  “You … you’re engaged to Harper?” I ask, and his brow crinkles, mouth twisting into a scowl. “Even after she tried to drown me?”

  “I explained this to you,” he says, but there’s this quaver in his voice that reminds me of a trapped animal, looking desperately for escape. “My dad won’t allow anything else.”

  “Do you even like her?” I ask, and he just stares me down with his cold, silver gaze.

  “I stopped liking her when I found out she beat you.” That’s all he says, and the words are cold enough, but the meaning behind them makes my heart flutter.

  “So, can you do me a favor?” My heart is racing so fast now, I can feel it in my palms.

  “What?” Just that one word. Tristan seems like he’s on edge now, too.

  “Be my date to the party at the lake house.” He sighs and swipes his palm down his face, like he’s suddenly tired. I move forward and grab the front of his academy jacket, and he freezes like he’s been slapped. “Do you like me, Tristan?” I ask, and I realize I’m asking so many questions with that one single sentence. I’m asking him if he’s sorry, if he’s willing to cause a rift in the Bluebloods, if he can prove to me that he knows what the girls did was wrong. In the pool, backstage at the concert, they took things too far. Way, way, way too far.

  He reaches down and takes my hands in his, the warmth of his skin overwhelming me. His peppermint and cinnamon scent surrounds us and he leans in, breathing against my hair. He doesn’t kiss me though, not like I want him to. His hands squeeze mine just a bit harder before he’s pushing them gently away. A slight scowl takes over his lips, but I’m pretty sure it’s not intended for me.

  “I’ll take you to party,” he says, his voice so smooth it’s like silk, “but after that … no more. Marnye, you can’t stay here, and you can’t have me.” Tristan pushes me away and turns quickly, moving down the hallway so fast that by the time I decide I want to go after him, he’s disappeared. Even when I peek around the corner, there’s no sign of him.

  My stomach drops, and I can’t decide if that was a victory … or a defeat.

  Zayd is the last one of the Idols that I seek out. Maybe because I feel like there really was something between us, so his betrayal stings the worst? I don’t know. For whatever reason, he’s pulled away from me even more so than Tristan. The texting’s been helping, but whenever I approach him in person, he seems to find a reason to run.

  We’re in the middle of a long text conversation when I find him sunning himself outside on a picnic table. Boo is the last thing I send before I poke him in the shoulder and make him jump.

  “You’re running away from me,” I say aloud, and he sits up, crossing his legs and raising his pierced brow at me.

  “Um, no? I’m just sitting here,” he says, giving me a cocky, stupid little smile that’s one hundred percent fake. “If I were running, Charity, you’d know, because you’d see my tight ass booking it across the field.” He grins as I climb up on the table to sit beside him.

  “Do you still have the trophy?” I ask, and I swear he chokes on his own spit. He tries to cover up the motion by getting out a cigarette and a lighter, and peering around to check for any staff members before he starts smoking it.

  “Maybe, why?” he says softly, and I can feel it, that gap between us widening again.

  “Could you bring it to Royal Pointe?” I ask, and he looks at me like I’m a crazy person. “It’d be cathartic for me to have it.” I glance up at him from under a fall of rose-gold hair. “Be my date to the party.”

  Zayd scoffs.

  “Why would you want to go with me? Charity, really, are you a glutton for punishment?” I glance over at him, put my hand on his knee, and then lean forward like I’m going to kiss him. Surprisingly, he pushes me back. “No. No, I’m not doing this.”

  “Why not?” I ask, and I feel all those horrible emotions bubbling up inside of me. Zayd sighs and looks away, smoking his cigarette, his sea green hair tousled by the wind. After a moment, he ashes his cig against the side of the table and burning embers crumble to the bench seat below.
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  “Because, I don’t understand you. We … treated you like shit. And then you came back all dolled up and ready to kill. Then the girls …” Zayd just stops talking and sighs, closing his eyes for a moment. When he opens them, he looks at me. “This whole year is for fucking nothing if you go to this party with me.”

  “It’s not. It’s your chance to say sorry, if you’re sorry at all.”

  Zayd freezes and reaches up to run his fingers through his hair. My skirt rides up my thighs as I adjust myself, and he notices right away, taking in my garters and thigh-high socks with interest. My finger reaches out and teases around the edge of the Burberry Preparatory Academy crest that’s sewn into the pocket of his jacket.

  “The girls have been after your blood since before winter formal last year, you know that right?” Zayd looks over at me, and the stark truth is written all over his face. My hand moves from his pocket to the bit of tattoo I can see on his chest. When I dive my fingers underneath his shirt to touch his skin, he doesn’t stop me. Instead, he reaches up and presses my hand against him. “I can’t just undo everything that’s happened. That’s what going to this party with you would mean.”

  “It would mean the world to me, is what it would do,” I tell him, and our eyes lock. Tentatively, he hooks an arm around my waist and pulls me into his lap. It feels so good to be sitting with him again that for a moment, I just close my eyes and relax into it.

  “You don’t have any business hanging around with an idiot like me,” he says, and I can hear it in his voice now, guilt, thick and heavy and weighing him down. “This is a den of wolves, Marnye, and you shouldn’t be here.”

  “And yet I am,” I say, thinking of the tattoo on my hip. “Go to the party with me, Zayd.”

  After a moment, he sighs and puts his chin on the top of my head.

  “Fine, but shit, this is stupid,” he grumbles, growling a little under his breath. “You’re going to get yourself fucking killed, Marnye.”

  The scary part about his statement is that … he’s almost right.

  The academic battle royale at the end of the year almost kills me. I’m so tired I can barely keep my eyes open, and my test scores are so alarmingly close to Tristan’s that it comes down to just a few assignments. Namely, that poor essay score and test grade he earned himself by messing with me. If he hadn’t done that, he might’ve won.

  “Congratulations, Marnye!” Miranda cheers, throwing her arms around my neck and giving me a squeeze. Andrew is holding balloons and chocolate, while Zack’s got a case of beer and a congrats card, and Windsor spins a freshly delivered pizza on his palm that he snatched from the end of the year pizza party in The Mess. Nobody actually hangs out at the pizza parties: students just jack food and run. The staff doesn’t even mind. Why should they? Today’s the last day of exams, and tomorrow is the official last day of school and the graduation gala.

  None of us will be there however because we’ll all be on a four hour drive to Lake Tahoe, and the Royal Pointe Lakeside Lodge and Guesthouse. It used to belong to the founder of the academy, Lucas Burberry, but was gifted to the school’s foundation after his death. It’s worth over seventy-five million dollars, and houses a massive dock that’s become a hangout for the super-rich. Most of the students at Burberry have parents who keep boats there.

  My friends pile into my dorm, and we pass around the pizza, beer, and sodas while a movie that nobody’s watching plays in the background. Vaguely, I wonder where the Idols are right now. The girls have backed off quite a bit since the drowning, but I don’t think that’s out of charity or because they feel bad. Oh no, I imagine things are about to get way worse for me.

  Windsor lays on the bed with his head in my lap, and I get these strange tingles all over my body. I know he’s just naturally flirty and touchy-feely, and the last thing I need is another guy to worry about, but there’s something about the prince that makes me feel strange inside. Good strange, too.

  Zack watches us, but he hasn’t said anything since that day in The Mess. Part of me hopes that he’s just biding his time and waiting until after the graduation getaway to make a move. The other part of me is unsure if she wants him to. Because … what about Creed or Zayd? Tristan … is a separate source of anxiety all on his own. I’m interested in him, and I have been for a while, but I didn’t want to admit it because one, he’s a total fucking asshole. And two, I can’t decide if he’s going to marry Harper to please his family or run off into the sunset with Lizzie Walton.

  Either way, that doesn’t leave a lot of room for me.

  I push those thoughts aside and try to enjoy myself—and my victory over Tristan because, come on, how great is that? Eventually, we all fall asleep, and I wake up a few hours later tangled up with Andrew, Miranda, and Zack. Windsor is nowhere to be seen, but when I get up to go the bathroom, I notice the door to my room is cracked, and decide to see if he’s outside.

  He is, watching the sun come up. I sit beside him, and we just hang out there for a while in silence.

  “You know,” he says, glancing over at me. I’m shivering a bit in the cold morning air, so he scoots closer and pulls me into his lap. The movement makes my tummy feel like I’m on a rollercoaster. “I think I might actually like it here. Usually, I stay at a school for however long it takes me to meet and date all of the girls, and then I do whatever I have to do to get kicked out.”

  “Sounds pretty lonely to me,” I tell him, and he shrugs. I can smell him now, like daffodils, with undertones of ebony wood and blue cedar. I’m not sure if it’s a cologne, or just his natural scent. Either way, it gives me butterflies.

  “I’ll come back here next year,” he repeats, and I smile. “I mean, at least for a short while.”

  “I’d like that,” I say, and we continue to admire the sunrise.

  Later, I’ll find out if the Idols are going to actually show up at the party … or stand me up. My entire future is on the line here, my dad’s health is on the line, and it’s just too much to put my faith into boys who’ve already betrayed me.

  “Windsor,” I start, and he nods in acquiescence. “I don’t want to assume things are going to go badly tonight …”

  “But if they do, jump in the pool and give you mouth to mouth?” he asks, and I grin.

  “Yes, please.”

  “Now that,” he declares, before standing me up and lifting me along with him, “was a metaphor.”

  There are academy cars arranged to take students to the lake, but now that the year is over, the gig is up and everyone just wants their cars back. Andrew is so freaking sweet, and lets me drive his Lambo again, even though I’m pretty sure I’ve gotten more than my fair share of justice out of that favor.

  He rides in the back with Windsor while Miranda sits in the passenger seat; Zack takes his own car, and the Idols—who are still car-less—ride with one of the other Bluebloods.

  “Why aren’t you driving some fancy ass sports car?” Miranda asks, turning around to look at the prince. “You’re practically famous for buying and then wrecking the best of the best.” Windsor grins, but when I look up at the rearview mirror to see his reflection, a strange shadow crosses his face.

  “Just too lazy to drive, I guess,” he drawls, but I have a feeling that’s not the whole truth. Today, however, is not the day to press. I have enough crap to deal with already.

  The drive is pleasant, easy, and sort of funny because there’s just this long string of luxury cars working their way through the woods, millions and millions of dollars’ worth of steel and leather and rubber.

  We all park in the gravel lot outside the lodge, and carry our bags to the main house. There’s a beach house, too, but second years are not allowed to stay in it. That’s a third year privilege. Oddly enough, there’s also this glass box that looks like an elevator called a funicular that goes from the main house all the way down to the beach. It’s sort of like a slow-moving roller coaster with an enclosed car, all on its own miniature railway. Frankly, it blo
ws my mind to see people piling into it, and taking a quick ride down to the shore. But nobody else seems impressed, so I try to keep my cool. Peasant problems, am I right?

  For the first half of the day, the staff hovers, and Zack, Windsor, Andrew, Miranda, and I entertain ourselves with games—no stakes involved, sorry—and snacks. Once night rolls around, the Infinity Club takes over, and the staff becomes mysteriously absent.

  Clearly, the damn Club has fingers in the Burberry Prep admin office, too.

  Harper and her friends disappear to get changed, and I start to sweat when the Idol boys are nowhere to be seen. They got in a car, that much is for sure, but I haven’t seen them since.

  “Relax,” Zack whispers as Windsor studies my face. Miranda and Andrew have gone to their rooms to change, too, so we have a moment to talk freely. “They’ll be here.”

  “They better be,” I mumble, and Windsor and I exchange a look. While I’m distracted cleaning up the card game, he disappears like he always does, but I tell myself not to worry. He was there at the pool when I needed him, and he promised he’d be here tonight. Whatever needs doing, Windsor York will get it done.

  When Harper and her entourage come down the stairs in glittering gowns with full hair and makeup, I take that opportunity to switch into my own outfit: a rose-gold corset and short, voluminous skirt to match my hair. Paired with some black heels, it’s a pretty damn cute outfit. I spent far more on it than I should have, but I wanted to look the part.