“I hear you got all sorts of gifts today,” he drawls, and I bite my lower lip.
“Enough.” I can hear people milling around in the garden, the soft sound of classical music spilling over to us along with the gentle sweetness of roses.
“Mm.” Creed circles around me and then puts a hand on the wall near my head. “Fucking vultures,” he says, reaching out to play with a loose strand of my hair. “Would it be apropos if I gave you another gift?”
“You better give her a gift,” Miranda mumbles, her eyes scanning the crowd until she spots Andrew. She gives him a little wave, and then glances back at us. “I’ll give you two a little privacy.” She wanders away with her hands in her dress pockets, as I blush and watch Creed reach up to the top of the garden wall, grabbing something in his long fingers.
When he hands it over to me, I see that it’s a copy of The Tales of Beedle the Bard.
“It’s not the handwritten version,” he says with a small grimace, glancing away like he’s ashamed of himself. “But it’s signed.”
I take the book in shaking hands, but I can’t stop the tears that try to fall. They prick my eyes as I turn away and try to blink them off. Creed notices and gives a small half-smile, pausing as Becky Platter marches over to us. She’s like a little Harper clone. Whatever her mistress says or does, she just imitates.
“You think because Zayd made some stupid chocolates for you that you’ve won?” she snaps, and I raise my brows. I haven’t even considered ‘winning’ anything, least of all him. This whole day has just been … weird. “He doesn’t give a shit about you. He just wants to fuck you, so he can say he bagged a virgin.”
I frown. Honestly, that sounds like the complete opposite of Zayd. He’s very vocal on his opinions of virgins. But also … now I know the whole school is aware of my sexual status. Great.
“Becky,” Creed says, nice and slow and quiet, but with a dripping menace that makes me shiver. “Go to hell.” She snaps her gaze over to him, but she’s still fuming. “Zayd spent every day after school in the kitchen this week perfecting those chocolates. He ruined over twenty boxes worth. It’s more than just candy, sweetie. Now get.”
“You don’t control me, Creed Cabot,” Becky snaps, tossing her blond hair. “You’re no higher on the totem pole than I am.”
“Keep telling yourself that,” he purrs, pushing off the wall and facing her down.
“And you keep telling yourself that Tristan Vanderbilt isn’t a hundred times better than you, and maybe one day, the world will believe it as much as you do.” Becky spins on her heel and storms off, stilettos clacking against the cobblestones.
When I look back at Creed, his face is tight, and I can see she actually hit a nerve with that one.
“Bitch,” he growls, and then he turns back to me, looking for a split-second like he’s actually confused about my presence there. I blink once, and the expression is gone. Creed holds out his arm, and I slip mine through it. “Don’t worry about her,” he tells me with a caustic laugh. “She won’t last another year as an Idol. She’s too weak.”
“I’m not worried about her,” I whisper, holding the book against my chest. Becky is just another bully, and I’m beyond accustomed to dealing with people like her at this point. I’m just glad I don’t have to deal with Zayd, Tristan, and Creed anymore. Or Zack. Talk about challenging … Becky is nothing compared to them.
Creed leads us over to a table where Zayd and Tristan are sitting. Neither of them looks particularly happy about being together. Zayd’s green eyes meet mine, and I smile. Twenty boxes, huh? The fact that he had the discipline to work so hard on those chocolates makes me want to cry. But in a good way. In a really, really good way.
“None of us could agree on who should escort you here tonight, so … we’re basically stuck with each other.” Zayd flicks a glance over at Tristan and scowls. The other boy ignores him, focusing on my necklace before lifting those stormy gray eyes to my face.
“Sit,” he says, and I do. Creed leans against the column behind me as I grab a colorful little tea sandwich and take a bite. Cream cheese and cucumber. Interesting. “Do you like your necklace?” Tristan asks after a minute, sliding his legs underneath the table so that our limbs are tangled together. I look up at him, and my heart stutters in my chest.
“I love it,” I say, and then I glance at Zayd, at Creed. “I love everything.” Including Zack’s gift. I’ll have to text him later.
