my chest, and I'm on my tiptoes, eyes closed, swooning away into oblivion.
“What on earth are you wearing?” a lazy voice drawls from somewhere behind Zayd. My eyes snap open, and I'm pushing back against Zayd's chest as he howls with laughter and releases me.
My footie pajamas slip on the hardwood floor, and if Zayd didn't step forward to catch me again, I would've fallen right on my ass.
Creed moves into the shadows of the house, giving me that devil-may-care smile of his as he walks over and sits down on the sofa, right on top of his sister. She barely stirs as he reaches out and pokes a finger in the center of her forehead.
“Wake up, sleepyhead,” he purrs, flicking his eyes briefly over to mine. There's a small flash of jealousy there as he licks his lips, studying me as I stand in the circle of Zayd's arms. “Did you two stay up late partying last night? That's awfully naughty of you, Marnye.”
“I, we …” I start, but then I catch sight of Zack moving down the steps of the giant silver and black bus that's parked in front of my house. I'd be in awe of the size of the thing—it takes up the length of our yard plus the driveway and then some—if I weren't so focused on the boy with the broad shoulders and the rounded biceps. Do not drool, Marnye, not cool.
“Hey,” he says, cool as a cucumber, eyes dark and narrowed but not unpleasant. No, actually, in the deep, shadowed depths of those beautiful irises, he looks pretty damn happy to see me. A smile curves the perfection of his full, lush mouth. “Didn't expect to see us here, huh?”
“Not exactly,” I admit, feeling lightheaded and happy, but also a tad concerned. They've been missing a whole week, and then they show up in a giant RV? What's going on here? “What happened to Tristan and Windsor?”
“Oh, they're here alright,” Zayd says, making sure I'm settled on my feet before he lets go, his eyes scanning my pajama-clad form with interest. Heat suffuses my cheeks, and I start to back up, intending to escape to my bedroom before Tristan or Windsor come in and see me dressed like this. I'm embarrassed enough as it is, but somehow the thought of those two seeing me wearing fuzzy baby duck pj’s … “Oh no, you don't.” Zayd grabs me by the wrist and pulls me forward, keeping me from the safety of my closed bedroom door, and a pair of tight jeans and a cute top.
Tristan comes down the steps of the bus, dressed in his fourth-year uniform and looking like a goddamn king. He's got on the black blazer with the red and white Burberry Prep logo, the black shirt, black tie, black slacks …
Windsor is right behind him, dressed far more casually in long jean shorts, and a red wifebeater. His red hair is just slightly curled, and he has this swagger to his walk that makes me smile … That is, before the two boys step out of the sunshine and into the darkness of the house.
That's when their gazes both go straight to my outfit, and my face flames up like an inferno.
Something strange passes over Tristan's gaze, an almost unbelievable warmth, maybe even a strange sort of tenderness, but then it's gone, and he's cocking a perfectly sculpted dark brow at me.
“You look ridiculous. Where on earth did you find a pair of pajamas so hideous?”
“They're a gift from my dad,” I grumble as Windsor grins and steps forward, cupping the side of my face with his hand. My heart stops briefly, and I feel faint for the smallest of moments. I missed them all so much that all of a sudden, it really hits home.
I've been essentially living with these guys for years, eating in the same place, walking the same halls, day after day. Once we graduate, that's all gone. It's all gone, and I can never get it back.
My stomach turns over, and Windsor's face tightens almost imperceptibly.
“Are you okay?” he whispers, leaning in and putting his forehead up to mine. Windsor closes his beautiful hazel eyes for a moment, but not before I see a flash of fatigue in them. He's tired. Something happened this week, I know it.
“I'm just fine,” I tell him, feeling my stomach light up with butterflies. He pulls back just slightly from me, eyes opening, and then he leans in and