push him back down into my lap.
“I imagine we’ll find out at the next official Club meeting?” Zack hazards, and Tristan nods sharply.
“How often do those happen?” I ask, and Creed sighs.
“At least six times a year, sometimes more depending on the whims of the board.”
“There’s a board of directors for the Infinity Club?” I ask incredulously, and Creed nods.
“Both of Harper’s parents are on it. She’s a tough nut to crack.”
“Are you guys really going to get in trouble for all of this?” I lick my lips and wait for an answer, but none of the boys looks at me or gives it.
That scares me.
That scares me a whole hell of a lot.
Valentine’s Day brings equal parts revenge and romance.
The Bluebloods—and this time, I mean us and our new crew—spread a decree around the school that none of the Harpies or their Company boys are to receive roses. Anyone caught sending them is worse than a Plebian.
“This kind of politicking just doesn’t occur to me,” I say, pushing my plate away and picking up my ice tea. Zack, Zayd, and I are sitting in The Mess, eating dinner and getting ready for tomorrow. There’s the usual garden party in the evening, and now that we’re sitting on the Burberry Prep thrones, we have no choice but to go. Or at least we have to make an appearance.
“No?” Zayd asks, grinning and dipping his fingers into his ice water. He flicks some at me, and I flick some iced tea back at him. “Because, come on, pushing our cars into the pool? That was brilliant.” I grin and shrug at the same time.
“Sure, but that’s obvious. Of course you’re going to be upset if your car gets dumped in a swimming pool. But not receiving some roses on Valentine’s Day? So what?”
“That’s why I like you,” Zayd says, tugging on one of his lip rings. “Because you don’t think like they do. You have no idea how much someone like Becky craves attention and approval from others. Not getting roses on Valentine’s is, like, the equivalent of being shaved bald for her. Trust me: this is sweet, sweet revenge in its finest form.”
The door to The Mess opens, and the other boys come in, talking up seats around the table. Creed slides his foot up my leg, and I flush, pretending not to notice. Last night, he snuck over to my room in the middle of the night, and we … well, he had a quick repeat of what happened at the hotel.
He came in and didn’t say a word, pushed my shirt up and over my breasts, sucked gently on the flesh, and slid in me with a groan that’s still ringing in my ears. Just thinking about it makes my nipples pebble to fine points. It’s all so new, all this physical affection. I get jitters just thinking about it.
“What are the plans for tomorrow?” Windsor asks, leaning back in his seat and folding his hands over the front of his uniform. I’m in love with the red jackets, the plaid ties, and the white shirts. I’m going to miss them. Then again, fourth year uniforms are solid black: black ties, black shirt, black jacket, black skirt/slacks.
“Hit the garden party, grab a table, and romance the shit out of our new girlfriend?” Zayd says with a grin, and Zack slams a palm onto the table, shaking the dishes. Everyone turns to look at him, his brown eyes narrowed to slits, his gaze focused on me. I shiver under the intensity.
“No.”
“No?” Creed echoes, and Windsor raises his eyebrows. Tristan looks bored, and Zayd looks irritated.
“What do you mean no?” the rocker boy asks, rubbing his inked hand up his equally inked arm.
“I mean I’ve been placid, and I’ve been nice, and I’m done with it. I thought that’s what Marnye wanted.” Zack stops and then sits back in his chair, lifting his chin in a way that promise he’s just as much a member of the Burberry Prep royal court as any of the other guys. “But it’s not. She wants me to fight for her, so that’s what I’m going to fucking do. I’m taking her on a date, just me.”
“Says friggin’ who?” Zayd growls, rising to his feet. I reach out and grab his arm, and he sits down, letting out a string of curses.
“Where are you wanting to take me?” I ask, heart pounding, knowing this is going to be good. Zack is thoughtful. He bought