she glances back at Becky and Ileana before turning to me. “What the fuck did you do? Do you have a magic freaking vagina or something?” The crowd murmurs, and I frown.
“If I had sex with them or not is irrelevant,” I snap, clinging to the trophy and feeling like I’ve just aged ten years in five minutes. “They’re here, with me, and that’s that. You have to take care of my dad at your family’s medical center. And sorry, I won’t be groveling at your feet, so you can film it and post in on YouTube.” A ripple works its way through the crowd, and I see Creed’s blue eyes widen.
“You … made a bet for your father’s cancer treatments?” he asks mildly, and I nod.
“So, you started treating the man, threatened to stop doing it, and then somehow cornered Marnye into a bet you thought you couldn’t lose?” Zayd clarifies, and he sounds pissed, his rockstar voice rumbling with a slight growl. “Jesus, Harper, you’re even more fucked up than the rest of us.”
“I didn’t corner her: she came to me,” Harper chokes, turning to Tristan. “All I was trying to do was get rid of her. It’s what we’ve been trying to do all along.”
“I think I’ll have a drink,” Tristan says mildly, ignoring his fiancée completely. “Soda for you, Marnye?”
“Please,” I whisper, and the crowd parts as Tristan turns and heads over to the drink table. They leave a clear path for him to walk back and hand the cup with its clinking ice cubes over to me.
“This is …” Harper starts, but the crowd’s already moved on. Infinity Club bets happen all the time. They saw a winner chosen, and now they’re over it. The only person who’s still obsessing is Harper du Pont. “She invited all three of you. She thinks you’re in love with her.”
“Maybe we are? Who the fuck are you to judge?” Zayd snaps, rising to his feet. He towers over Harper, and I get a small surge of pleasure as she backs up. “Marnye won, Infinity Club rules. Now move on and get over it.” He pushes her back with a finger to her shoulder, and she lets out one of her trademark screeches before turning and stomping away.
For a moment, I just stand there, shaking. And then I take my drink, my trophy, and my emotions, and I race up to my room and slam the door.
Miranda, Zack, and Andrew check on me, but I just need some time to process. I can’t decide if I’m upset that the guys aren’t emotionally wrecked the way I was … or relieved. And then … I feel so lost, like I have no idea what to do now.
After I’ve had some time to process, I dig around in my bags for some sweats, suddenly desperate to change out of this itchy dress, and realize that I’ve left my other bag in the car. Careful to avoid the crowd, I slip out the back door and past the gazebo where Harper and her cronies are drinking and complaining loudly about me.
Screw them.
I head over to the Lamborghini, unlock it, and grab my bag.
When I turn around, John Hannibal, Gregory Van Horn, and Harper du Pont are waiting for me with most of the other Bluebloods in tow.
“Get her,” Harper says, and I don’t even have time to scream before Greg is clamping a hand over my mouth and yanking me against his chest.
No fucking way, I think as they drag me across the lot, flailing and kicking and clawing at Greg’s hand. When John and that new guy, Ben, step in and each grab onto my legs, I know I’m in serious, serious trouble.
They take me around the back of the house and over to the funicular, shuffling us all inside, and pressing the button that’ll take us down to the beach. Under any other circumstances, I’d be excited to ride in this thing. As of right now, I’m terrified.
We hit the beach and immediately go for the dock, loading up on one of the boats and heading out to the lake. Dozens of other students are already out there, partying on different boats. Harper chooses a spot right in the middle of Lake Tahoe, and has Sai throw the anchor over.
We’re on the top deck now with nothing but a few lanterns and some white twinkle lights to brighten up the darkness.
Harper stares down at me, and then smiles.
“I think …