Stuck With The Four Hotties

“Hey Marnye,” she says, her dark hair twisted up into a fancy knot on the back of her head, makeup dark but appropriate for the evening. She’s wearing a lavender dress that’s the perfect compliment to her amber eyes. “Zack, thanks for letting me stay in your room last night.” Zack nods, but nothing more passes between them, so I figure it was a pretty tame night. A coolness settles inside of me, and I realize that I was actually nervous, jealous maybe.

Over Zack? Seriously?

“Nice to see you, too, Lizzie,” Tristan quips, practically tossing the cards out. “Thanks for the greeting.”

“I was getting there,” she says, looking taken aback. There’s something more between them than a simple friendship and an amicable breakup. I’m pretty sure Tristan’s still into her. Lizzie steps back and hooks her arm through her friend’s. “This is Marcel Stone, my date for the evening.” She touches the back of his hand, but I notice Marcel is more interested in smirking at Tristan than paying attention to his date.

Lizzie adjusts her hand and the lights catch on a ring on her finger.

Tristan notices it right away, and goes completely stiff.

“Did she mention we just got engaged?” Marcel asks, his brown eyes locked on Tristan’s gray ones. I remember Andrew saying a lot of the students at Burberry Prep were engaged, but to hear Miranda tell it, these are more like tentative business arrangements. Students still do what-and whom-they want.

“We’re sort of testing the waters,” Lizzie adds as Tristan’s face goes from blank to red to an ashen sort of gray. “We’re not actually getting married until after we graduate college, but our parents …”

“The Waltons and the Stones, a medieval match to join two great families.” Tristan narrows his eyes and glares at Zack. “Well, put your blind down.”

Zack glares right back at him, but pushes forward a stack of chips. Lizzie, meanwhile, just stands there, looking lost. I actually feel sorry for her. No fifteen year old wants to get engaged, especially not to some random guy her parents picked for money or prestige. I thought that stuff stopped happening in the middle ages.

“Tristan,” she begins, but he’s so furious right now, his hands are shaking as he holds them in his lap, waiting for play to pass around the table. “Can we talk? You know I still want to be friends.”

“Get fucked, Lizzie,” he says, but there’s a sadness in his voice that isn’t faked. He misses her. I start to wonder if this is the reason they broke up, the reason her dad doesn’t want her talking to him. Her face falls, and she lets go of Marcel’s arm to come around the table, taking up a chair behind me.NôvelDrama.Org owns © this.

She watches us play, her presence bringing up so much noticeable tension in Tristan that he’s impossible to read. He bets everything, and I can’t decide if it’s because he’s really got a good hand, or if it’s because he’s angry. I take a risk.

At the end, it comes down to the two of us, and when he slams his cards face up on the table, I feel my stomach knot painfully. He’s got three of a kind; I’ve got two pair. We’re both full of shit, but that still means I lose.

“Guess we all you owe blow jobs, huh?” Zayd asks, but Tristan isn’t in the mood to laugh, and my eyes are bugging out of my skull. If he asks for that to satisfy the favor he’s just won, I’ll kill him.

“Marnye,” Zack begins, but my skin is all hot, and I can practically taste the freedom that’s being promised me. A whole year without being bothered.

I could focus on my studies, have fun with Miranda, walk the halls without worrying …

“Again,” I say, and I hear a small gasp from Lizzie. “Same stakes?”

But Tristan is already pushing up from the table, his eyes dark, lips pursed. “I’m done here,” he says, and then he storms off. Lizzie rises from her seat like she might go after him, but then stops cold. After a moment, she turns to me, eyes shimmering with unshed tears. Marcel watches the whole thing with a scowl, and I decide then that even though I don’t like Tristan, I like

this guy even less..

“Do you think we could trade numbers?” Lizzie asks me after a moment, and my mouth pops open in surprise. “I felt a connection last night, I dunno.” She smiles and then pulls her phone from her purse, offering it up to me. “I mean, it never hurts to make new friends, right?”

“Definitely not,” I reply, plugging my phone number into her contacts list and then texting myself, so I’ll have her number on hand, too. “I haven’t exactly made a lot of friends at Burberry …”

“No shit,” Zayd snorts, but we both ignore him. Lizzie takes her phone, and her obnoxious fiance, and disappears into the crowd. “Well, Tristan won’t be back tonight. He’s been carrying a torch for Lizzie Walton since elementary school. When her Dad forbid them from seeing each other, he was gutted.” Zayd picks up a bottle of beer from the case on the ground next to him, and pops the top, downing most of it in one go. “He’s probably off to find some Pleb to lick his wounds.”

My face scrunches up at that, but I don’t say anything. I’m not surprised. “If you still want to play,” Creed says, ignoring Zayd and the incident

completely. His eyes are locked on me, and my heart races wildly in my chest. “I’m in. There’s another five grand in it for you, too.”

“We should go,” Zack growls at me, but when I pick up the cards to deal, he just sighs and stays right where he is.

Unfortunately, I’m too full of myself, too desperate to show these guys who’s boss. Creed’s been watching me all night, picking up my tells. He takes the next round, and even though I know I should stop, that I’m pushing too hard, and too far, I raise my chin up.

“Again.”

The looks on Zayd’s and Creed’s faces should’ve been my first warning. Zack puts his hand on my knee and squeezes, but I ignore him, determined to win this, desperate for it.

Zayd deals, we play … and I lose. Again