Stuck With The Four Hotties

Tristan is in Fiji with his dad while Miranda and Creed went home to Florida. Andrew is with his cousins in Texas, and Zack is back in Cruz Bay. He even texted to tell me that my dad had a bad day and didn’t make it to work, that he lost his job and that rent and electricity didn’t get paid. I

offered to send some money from the account Tristan made me, but Zack said he’d already taken care of it.

Of course, then I felt guilty for not going home for spring break. But this music program, it could be life-changing for me.

“I know what a bus is, dumb dumb,” Zayd says, hoisting me into the center row and then crawling up beside me. “We filmed my last music video in one.” I roll my eyes, but I can’t help but wonder how and why Zayd is even here.

“You already have a music career,” I start as he glances over at me, “so what’s this about?”

“You’re never too good to learn from someone else,” Zayd says, shrugging his shoulders and then tapping out several rapid text messages on his phone. He pauses to look over at me, his mouth twisting in this totally self-assured little smile. “Besides, I knew you were going, and figured you’d want company.”

“Considering Harper and Becky will be there, most definitely.” My smile stretches wide, and Zayd reaches out to pinch my cheek with his inked fingers. I slap him away, but he just laughs, and then grabs my face between his hands, kissing me smack on the lips.

My cheeks burn with heat, but I sink back in my chair, curl my legs up underneath me and just watch him for the majority of the drive. There are other students in the back seat, and Mr. Carter in the front, but nobody bothers me or picks on me, not with Zayd sitting right there. I have plenty of time to myself to text Zack and Lizzie, to look at a picture Miranda just sent me of her and Creed sitting on the beach. He’s shirtless, his pale skin flawless and glowing under the hot sun. I bet he comes back with a tan … or a burn.

We wind our way south and east, toward this camp on the edge of a massive lake. It’s probably three or four times the size of the one back at the academy. When we crest the hill and I see it, my breath slips out in a gasp.

There are over a hundred students attending, each with a different passion or specialty. Since I’m on the harp, I get paired up with Becky (gag), and one other girl from Coventry Prep who says she knows Zack, and assigned a cabin on the opposite side of the lake from Lizzie and Zayd, both of whom are here to focus on the piano.

Zayd gives me a goodbye kiss on the cheek, and a pat on the ass before he takes off across the grass and I flip him off. Lizzie is waiting on the other

side of the lake, and I can just barely see her as she waves to me. I wave back, but we won’t be able to actually hang out until later this evening, at dinner.

That’s okay though, because even though I’m stuck with Becky, I know I have allies here. Besides, it’s better than being at home with Jennifer hovering around, and dad gazing at her like she’s the love of his life. Anyway, the harp is one of my passions, and I don’t mind spending spring break getting better at it.

Doing what you love makes the day go by quickly, and before I realize it, the sun’s already sunk beneath the surface of the lake, and I’m heading across the grass toward the mess hall.

Stepping into the giant log cabin with its picnic tables, red plastic trays, and cafeteria food makes me laugh. The students at Burberry Prep might call our restaurant The Mess, but this place is far more deserving of that name.

“Hey, Working Girl,” Zayd calls out, waving me over to sit next to him and Lizzie. She rises from the table and gives me a big hug before scooting a tray in front of me and grinning.

“We got here before everybody else, so I grabbed you the good stuff.” She points at the pizza on my plate, and then gestures in the direction of the line where people are complaining because the only thing that’s left is meatloaf. Gross. Based on the smell, I’m pretty sure it has onions in it, too. Double gross.This text is © NôvelDrama/.Org.

“Thanks,” I laugh, as I pick up a slice and bring it to my lips. “How was your guys’ day?”

“Would’ve been better if you were in it,” Zayd says, throwing me a sharp grin. The way he looks at me sends shivers through my whole body. If he really had been around me all day, I wouldn’t have gotten anything done because I’d have been too busy staring at him, memorizing the full curve of his lower lip, or the long dark curves of his lashes. “Doesn’t matter though,” he continues, folding his tattooed forearms on the table and resting his chin on them. He looks at me from under half-lidded eyes, reminding me of Creed, and that strange situation in the bathroom.

“What doesn’t matter?” Lizzie asks glancing between the two of us. She raises her eyebrows, but she knows how I feel about Zayd. That is to say, she knows that I have no idea what to do with his attention. Or Creed’s. We don’t really talk about Tristan. How can I, when I know that she still loves him?

“We’re gonna make up for all that time spent apart,” Zayd says, grinning. He nods his chin at my pizza and then reaches out and steals a slice. I pretend to slap his hand away, but really I’m grinning.