Zack watches us, but he hasn’t said anything since that day in The Mess. Part of me hopes that he’s just biding his time and waiting until after the graduation getaway to make a move. The other part of me is unsure if she wants him to. Because … what about Creed or Zayd? Tristan … is a separate source of anxiety all on his own. I’m interested in him, and I have been for a while, but I didn’t want to admit it because one, he’s a total fucking asshole. And two, I can’t decide if he’s going to marry Harper to please his family or run off into the sunset with Lizzie Walton.

Either way, that doesn’t leave a lot of room for me.

I push those thoughts aside and try to enjoy myself—and my victory over Tristan because, come on, how great is that? Eventually, we all fall asleep, and I wake up a few hours later tangled up with Andrew, Miranda, and Zack. Windsor is nowhere to be seen, but when I get up to go the bathroom, I notice the door to my room is cracked, and decide to see if he’s outside.

He is, watching the sun come up. I sit beside him, and we just hang out there for a while in silence.

“You know,” he says, glancing over at me. I’m shivering a bit in the cold morning air, so he scoots closer and pulls me into his lap. The movement makes my tummy feel like I’m on a rollercoaster. “I think I might actually like it here. Usually, I stay at a school for however long it takes me to meet and date all of the girls, and then I do whatever I have to do to get kicked out.”

“Sounds pretty lonely to me,” I tell him, and he shrugs. I can smell him now, like daffodils, with undertones of ebony wood and blue cedar. I’m not sure if it’s a cologne, or just his natural scent. Either way, it gives me butterflies.

“I’ll come back here next year,” he repeats, and I smile. “I mean, at least for a short while.”

“I’d like that,” I say, and we continue to admire the sunrise.

Later, I’ll find out if the Idols are going to actually show up at the party … or stand me up. My entire future is on the line here, my dad’s health is on the line, and it’s just too much to put my faith into boys who’ve already betrayed me.

“Windsor,” I start, and he nods in acquiescence. “I don’t want to assume things are going to go badly tonight …”

“But if they do, jump in the pool and give you mouth to mouth?” he asks, and I grin.

“Yes, please.”

“Now that,” he declares, before standing me up and lifting me along with him, “was a metaphor.”

There are academy cars arranged to take students to the lake, but now that the year is over, the gig is up and everyone just wants their cars back. Andrew is so freaking sweet, and lets me drive his Lambo again, even though I’m pretty sure I’ve gotten more than my fair share of justice out of that favor.

He rides in the back with Windsor while Miranda sits in the passenger seat; Zack takes his own car, and the Idols—who are still car-less—ride with one of the other Bluebloods.

“Why aren’t you driving some fancy ass sports car?” Miranda asks, turning around to look at the prince. “You’re practically famous for buying and then wrecking the best of the best.” Windsor grins, but when I look up at the rearview mirror to see his reflection, a strange shadow crosses his face.

“Just too lazy to drive, I guess,” he drawls, but I have a feeling that’s not the whole truth. Today, however, is not the day to press. I have enough crap to deal with already.

The drive is pleasant, easy, and sort of funny because there’s just this long string of luxury cars working their way through the woods, millions and millions of dollars’ worth of steel and leather and rubber.

We all park in the gravel lot outside the lodge, and carry our bags to the main house. There’s a beach house, too, but second years are not allowed to stay in it. That’s a third year privilege. Oddly enough, there’s also this glass box that looks like an elevator called a funicular that goes from the main house all the way down to the beach. It’s sort of like a slow-moving roller coaster with an enclosed car, all on its own miniature railway. Frankly, it blows my mind to see people piling into it, and taking a quick ride down to the shore. But nobody else seems impressed, so I try to keep my cool. Peasant problems, am I right?

For the first half of the day, the staff hovers, and Zack, Windsor, Andrew, Miranda, and I entertain ourselves with games—no stakes involved, sorry—and snacks. Once night rolls around, the Infinity Club takes over, and the staff becomes mysteriously absent.

Clearly, the damn Club has fingers in the Burberry Prep admin office, too.

Harper and her friends disappear to get changed, and I start to sweat when the Idol boys are nowhere to be seen. They got in a car, that much is for sure, but I haven’t seen them since.

“Relax,” Zack whispers as Windsor studies my face. Miranda and Andrew have gone to their rooms to change, too, so we have a moment to talk freely. “They’ll be here.”

“They better be,” I mumble, and Windsor and I exchange a look. While I’m distracted cleaning up the card game, he disappears like he always does, but I tell myself not to worry. He was there at the pool when I needed him, and he promised he’d be here tonight. Whatever needs doing, Windsor York will get it done.

When Harper and her entourage come down the stairs in glittering gowns with full hair and makeup, I take that opportunity to switch into my own outfit: a rose-gold corset and short, voluminous skirt to match my hair. Paired with some black heels, it’s a pretty damn cute outfit. I spent far more on it than I should have, but I wanted to look the part.

I wanted to look like a winner.

Heading back into the huge open lodge room near the balcony, I find Harper du Pont waiting for me. The main house is over sixteen thousand square feet, so it’s pretty easy to get lost. Maybe she thinks I’ll run off and try to duck out on our bet?

“So?” she asks as my heels click across the floor, and I come to stand in front of her, holding my clutch like a shield in front of my body. “Where are they?” My eyes scan the room and find Zack in the corner, arms crossed over his chest, leaning against the wall to watch and wait. Miranda and Andrew are on the back patio, sitting around one of the fire pits with drinks in their hands. They don’t know about the bet, so they’re completely unaware of the tension building just inside the sliding glass doors.

The rest of the Bluebloods lounge on sofas and chairs in the room, watching me. They remind me of a vampire clan or something, pretty but dangerous. Elegant on the outside, blood-sucking demons underneath. My eyes narrow as Harper starts to pace around me.

Music begins to pour from the speakers, and the room fills with a huge crowd. There are second years, third years, and fourth years all mixed together. Doesn’t matter: they all know where the drama and action will be, and that’s wherever the Idols and their Inner Circle are.

Minutes tick past, and I sit down to wait. Almost an hour in, I start to get worried. I’m texting the guys, but getting no responses, and Harper is beginning to get impatient.

“You have until fifteen after,” she snaps at me, putting her hands on either one of the chair’s armrests and leaning in so close that I can smell her signature peach and vanilla scent. My stomach turns over with nausea, and Zack comes to stand beside me. “Fuck off, Brooks. This is Club business; you can’t do shit.” He growls at her, but he doesn’t move from his spot, flanking me like a bodyguard.

By this point, Miranda and Andrew have figured out that something’s up.

“You did what?!” Miranda snaps at me when I tell her, and I cringe. “I mean, it’s half brilliant and half completely and utterly insane.” She digs her own phone out, and starts to blow up Creed’s. “There’s no reason he shouldn’t be here,” she mutters, exhaling sharply. “He wouldn’t do something like that.”

By this point, news of the bet is spreading like wildfire. Everyone knows. And they’re all laughing at me.

It takes the Idols until an hour and a half after the party’s supposed to have started to show up.

I shoot up from my chair as the three of them walk in, still dressed in their school uniforms.

Zayd is the first to spot me, and he makes his way right over.

“Car trouble,” he says, and then he’s scowling as Greg Van Horn walks in behind him. He’s whistling and spinning his keys around on his finger, and that’s when I start to wonder if the guys were supposed to get here at all. Harper looks pissed. “Let me clarify: car trouble and phone trouble. Somebody stole our fucking phones.”

“Must’ve been a senior prank again, don’t you think, Harper?” Tristan asks, coming to stand right in front of her. “What the fuck is this all about? Clearly, you didn’t want us to show up tonight.” She shrugs her shoulders like she doesn’t know what he’s talking about.

I glance back at Creed as he comes to stand beside me, his eyes taking in the crowded room and the eagerly glinting eyes of the Bluebloods and Plebs alike.

“Marnye?” he drawls, his devil-may-care voice sending chills down my spine.

Harper decides to take over, coming to stand so close to me that the fabric of our dresses mingles together.

“So, Marnye, which one of these men is your date for tonight?” I glance between the three guys, and then I look her dead in the eye.

“All three of them,” I say, as Tristan turns to look at us, narrowing his eyes before he glances at Creed, and then Zayd. That’s when I notice Zayd’s bag sitting near the door … and the stupid trophy from last year resting against it. Moving over to pick it up, I turn to face a suddenly silent room.

“Well?” Harper asks, looking at Tristan quite pointedly. She reaches up with her engagement ring and wiggles her hand around for everyone to see. “Tristan? Is that true? Are you this girl’s date? I mean, she bet you would be. All three of you. She bet she could make you fall in love with her. So tell me: did she succeed?”