“Good,” he repeats, his mouth moving against mine. “Maybe someday, you’ll forgive me and we can be friends. Until then, let me help you.”
I’m panting; he’s panting.
We’re sharing breaths.
After a moment, Zack turns his head slightly to one side, and I follow his gaze.
The Idols—all six of them—are standing there watching us.
Tristan’s face is hard, dead, cold. Creed’s hands are curled into fists at his sides, belying the bored, lazy expression in his half-lidded eyes. Zayd, he’s just scowling openly, even as he’s holding hands with Becky. It’s so clear in their gazes how much they all hate Zack. Despise him, even. Looking back on that day at the lake, I can see things as they really are. Hindsight is twenty-twenty, and all that.
They didn’t tell me about Zack and Lizzie because they cared about me.
They told me about Zack and Lizzie to hurt me. And hurt me they did.
I turn back to Zack.
“Let me kiss you,” he whispers, and I realize then that I’m trembling. I’ve just destroyed this guy’s football career, lost the big game for the academy, maybe even sent Zack running back to Lower Banks High. And yet … “Let me help you, and I’ll only go as far as you’ll let me. We can take down the Infinity Club together.”
“Pretend to date you?” I ask, and he shrugs his big shoulders, his favored response to every question.
“Or just fucking kiss me.”
My heartrate picks up speed, and a bead of sweat works its way between my breasts, tickling my skin. Zack moves his hand and tugs up the waistband of my skirt to hide my tattoo. He grabs hold of my hip then and pulls my body against him. Before I can think too hard about it, my hands are sliding up his chest and curling around his neck.
Our mouths clash together in a rush of heat and desperation and need.
It feels so good that it almost hurts.
Zack’s mouth is warm and soft, and he tastes like cherry Gatorade. He wraps his left arm around me and lifts me up against him, his tongue teasing mine, taking control of the kiss without being domineering. I tell myself I’m only doing it because they’re watching. That’s what I tell myself, anyway. On the inside, I’m melting.
“Well, well, it’s the Working Girl doing what she does best,” Harper sneers, but I barely hear her. I’m so wrapped up in Zack’s big, strong arms, in the taste of his hot mouth on mine. Even if I hate him, even if I’ve just gotten him expelled … this feels too good.
And if it hurts the Bluebloods, then that’s just the cherry on top.
We stumble back into the wall, but I know I can’t let this go any further.
Zack must know it, too, because he pulls back and rests his forehead against mine for a moment. Both of us just breathe, slow in and outs. We’re both trembling, even as he moves away from me and picks up his discarded jersey and pads.
I don’t look at the Bluebloods as I fix my uniform and brush my palm over my hair before exchanging a look with Zack. He gives me a grim smile before heading into the locker room, and I turn back for the field.
“Fucking whore,” Becky snarls as I pass, but I just pause and smile at her.
“Takes one to know one,” I say, and then I’m sweeping past and heading back for the cluster of cheerleaders in their black, red, and white uniforms. I know I’m going to have to talk to Dad after about Zack, but that can wait.
For now, I dance.Revenge On The Bluebloods of Burberry Prep
A list by Miranda Cabot Marnye ReedThe Idols (guys): Tristan Vanderbilt (year one two), Zayd Kaiser (year one two), and Creed Cabot (year one two)The Idols (girls): Harper du Pont (year one two), Becky Platter (year one two), and Gena Whitley (year four) (graduated), Ileana Taittinger (year one)The Inner Circle: Andrew Payson, Anna Kirkpatrick, Myron Talbot, Ebony Peterson, Gregory Van Horn, Abigail Fanning, John Hannibal, Valentina Pitt, Sai Patel, Mayleen Zhang, Jalen Donner … and, I guess, me! Kiara Xiao, Ben ThresherPlebs: everyone else, sorry. XOXOZack BrooksHalloween is on a Thursday this year which makes partying difficult, especially with all the Bluebloods—and Zack—restricted to the Burberry Prep campus. According to school gossip, there’s going to be a party Friday night at the cemetery. Technically, that is on campus, so there’s less risk of being discovering.
“I’m over the ‘slutty’ theme,” Miranda says, flipping through a magazine as we sit in The Mess and binge on a colorful stack of macarons. “For Halloween, I mean. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, I just … feel like I’d rather go as a giant bowl of popcorn than a sexy kitty, sexy firefighter, sexy nurse, or sexy warthog.”
