Zayd pauses for a minute, and I can feel his heartbeat underneath the wing tattoos that cover his chest. In the center, there’s a crest of some sort that reminds me vaguely of the Burberry Prep crest with the griffins on either side. And then he howls with laughter and scoops me up in his arms, like he did with Anna back in the gym.
Miranda’s eyes mirror my shock as Zayd carries me over to one of the kegs where Tristan and Creed are watching some of their Inner Circle buddies face off in chugging contests. When they see him holding me, they exchange a quick glance.
“Look who has big ass ovaries!” he shouts, hefting me up in his arms like I weigh nothing. I’m shocked, actually. I know I’m short, but I’m not exactly the thinnest girl in school. “Working Girl came to party.” He spins me around and I automatically reach up to put my arms around his neck, feeling the fine hairs at the base of his scalp tickle against my skin. “Do you dance, Working Girl?”
“Not really,” I reply, but I’m now surrounded by the Idols and their Inner Circle. I feel like I’ve just walked into a trap. Of course, it’s hard to be upset with Zayd’s strong, inked arms under my thighs and around my waist. His body is rock-solid and piping hot. In all the places our bare skin touches, I burn. “I try, for fun, but it’s not pretty.”
“Kind of like you,” Harper interjects, dressed as a—and I don’t use this word lightly because there’s really nothing wrong with being a slut—slutty princess. She has a crown, a scepter, and a puffy skirt that just barely covers her underwear. The top is pink with a plunging neckline, and she’s covered head to toe in sparkles. I hate to admit it, but she looks good in the outfit.
Tristan stands beside her, dressed in a sharp as hell suit, all tailored lines and creases that could cut. I’m not sure what he’s supposed to be until he sees me looking at him and smiles, a slow awful parting of his lips that reveals two expertly placed fangs in his mouth. Vampire, how creative. Only … the sight actually makes my heart palpate just a little.
Creed is dressed in a blood-red shirt, tight black pants, boots, and an eye patch. Pirate. I think the sword at his side might actually be real. He studies me like an insect that needs to be pinned, wings forever stilled, encased behind glass. Scary.
“I don’t remember you being invited to this party,” Becky spits out, dressed in a matching outfit to Gena Whitley. I think they’re both supposed to be genies, but all they’re wearing are see-through flowy pants, top knots, and bras covered in sequins, so I’m not sure. “Was she invited, Harper?”
“Everyone’s invited to this party,” Zayd shouts with a hoot, and half the crowd cheers along with him. I think most of the people here tonight are too drunk to hate me. Miranda and Andrew hover nearby, a part of the Inner Circle but this freaking close to being pushed out of it. “Everyone’s invited,” Zayd repeats, spinning me around, and then carrying me through the crowd, toward the bonfire and the dance party happening at its edges.
He sets me down and then stumbles a little, using my shoulder for leverage.
Zayd blinks green eyes up at me, and then squints.
“Do you want to go swimming?” he asks, but he doesn’t wait for me to answer, raising his fist in the air with a shout that draws the other students in. He grabs my hand and takes off for the dock, but I pull away at the last second, watching in disbelief as he jumps in with a dozen other partygoers. My heart skips a few beats as I wait for them all to surface from the inky blackness, but they do, bobbing up like apples in a barrel.
Zayd pulls himself out of the water, soaking wet, his green hair plastered to either side of his face. He’s grinning as he stands up, towering over me with water dripping everywhere.
“You really are pretty with that red hair,” he says, and then he cups my face in two wet, cold hands and leans in, pressing his lips against mine. There’s the initial shock from the cold water, and then the strange realization that I’m kissing some guy I barely know, a guy that hasn’t been all that nice to me to begin with. But then his lips turn to ardent heat against mine, stirring up strange feelings in my belly.
For the briefest of instances, his tongue sweeps mine, and I feel like I’m melting.
But then someone pulls Zayd back and shoves him back into the water. He comes up laughing as I stand there with my lips parted, cheeks burning. I turn and make my retreat while Zayd’s friends splash him and pretend to push him under. Probably not the safest game drunk and in the dark, but there’s not a chance in hell that any one of them will listen to me.
