I grab Andrew by the hand, and take off, yanking him down the steps and into one of the lounge areas, so I can breathe.

“You're the only person,” I choke out, between panting breaths, “that isn't interested in me or interested in someone I'm interested in or … just plain confusing.” I look up and find Andrew staring at me with sympathy, his blue eyes bemused.

“True,” he says, and then chuckles slightly. “Well, okay, I won't lie, I have a huge crush on Windsor York, but my gay-dar says he's as straight as an arrow.” Andrew sighs wistfully. “And besides that, I'm already engaged …” He glances away, his chestnut hair golden in the yellow lounge lights. It's a palace in here, with custom leather couches, a glass coffee table, and a huge statue that looks like it's plated in gold. It's beyond luxe, and it makes me hate Harper's family even more. If they can afford a yacht like this, maybe they don't need to price the epinephrine injector pens they sell so damn high.

“You should break your engagement,” I tell Andrew as I notice Lizzie coming toward us through the crowd. She pauses nearby, almost hesitantly, and as I look at her, I try to decide if she really is as sweet and genuine as she seems, or if she's the greatest con artist amongst them all. “You should, too,” I tell her, deciding that, even if she is pulling the wool over my eyes, I'm only going to speak the truth.

“Should what?” she asks, stepping into our little circle. She changed into this tight, pale blue dress with sequins that makes her amber eyes pop. Me, I'm just rocking the uniform. I didn't bother to change, I couldn't, not with all those boys in my room. Getting naked with just a thin door between them and us … it was too much.

“Break your engagement,” I tell her, feeling this swell of pride and determination in me. I know who I want to be. I want to be the type of person that puts trust in people. I think that's possible, even without being na?ve or gullible. Lizzie stares at me like I've lost my mind. “You're not happy with Marcel Stone. From the little you've said about him, and the brief times I've seen you with him, you don't seem very excited to be engaged.” I glance back at Andrew, and he shrugs his shoulders.

“It's not always that easy,” he whispers back, and I realize then that their money doesn't give them the freedom they think it does. Their blue blood doesn't always mean the grass is greener. Charlie would never force me to marry someone I didn't love. And he sure as hell would never predicate his love on an ultimatum.

Then again, I know not all families work the same. Not all families are glued together by love and trust. Some are built on money and expectations.

“No, it's not easy. I bet it'd make your life a hell of a lot harder.” I exhale and look between the two of them. “You just … both seem so sad sometimes.” I shrug my shoulders, and then move over to the bar to grab another can of soda from a bucket of ice. I forgot mine upstairs just now, and I don't trust the other partygoers not to drug my drink. After all, Andrew did it once and succeeded. “Anyway, I just needed a minute.”

“Because of what happened to John and Greg?” Lizzie asks, and Andrew shakes his head.

“No, because of all those fine guys that are crushing on her.” He grins at me as I give him a look. “What? Come on, there's not a straight or bi girl at this school … or a gay boy … who doesn't envy you right now. Five bully boys brought to their knees by a beautiful working glass girl who doesn't take their shit; it's like a fairy-tale.”

“Five boys …” Lizzie starts, and then I can see her visibly gathering herself together as she forces a smile. “It's true. They all have crushes on you, whether they've said anything to you or not. It isn't just Creed and Zack.”

“Windsor?” I ask with a forced laugh. “Pretty sure he's joking.” But then I think about the feel of his arm around my waist, and I get lightheaded. “No way.”

“Yes way,” Andrew says, glancing over at Lizzie. She nods and gives me a sympathetic smile. “And Tristan, he's practically salivating.”

My eyes meet Lizzie's, but she manages to keep her smile.

“Like I told you before, anything I had with him was in the past … with any of them, really.”

“But you still love Tristan?” My heart stutters like crazy as I wait for her answer. I can't believe I actually asked that question aloud. For months now, I've told myself it was better not to know, to just let things play out as they might, but … I need to know.

Lizzie sniffles and then nods once, sharply.

“Don't worry though,” she blurts suddenly. “I'm with Marcel now. My dad hates Tristan's dad, and vice versa. We're an impossibility.”

“But you love him anyway?” Andrew asks, tucking the fingers of his right hand into the pocket of his red academy jacket. Like me, he hasn't bothered to change.

“Yes.” Lizzie is staring right at me, but I don't know how to respond or what to say.

Andrew whistles and shakes his head, pausing as Gary Jacobs passes by, his eyes following the other boy until he disappears into the hallway. There's a longing there that's echoed in Lizzie's gaze. Andrew turns back to me, like he's waiting for me to say something.

“Okay,” I say, and Andrew lifts his brows up.

“Okay?” he echoes, glancing over at Lizzie and then turning back to me. “What does that even mean? Do you like Tristan, too?”

“Me?” I choke out, because … I haven't really let myself think about that too hard.

No lies, damn it. Not even to yourself! I repeat, clenching my hands so tight, I make little crescent marks in my palms with my nails.

When Tristan touches me, my heart races. When he looks at me, I feel lightheaded. When he's not being a jerk to me—which is rare—I want to swoon. Do I like him? The king of the school? The ultimate asshole among assholes?

“Shit,” I curse, feeling my face get hot, and Andrew grins.

“I knew it,” he whispers as I cover my face with my hands.

“I like him,” I murmur, feeling this sensation ripple through me as it hits home. “I do.”

Pulling my hands away, I look back up to find Lizzie and Andrew watching me.

“It's fine, really,” Lizzie says with a sad smile. “I won't sabotage you. Like I said, I'm with Marcel …”

“Tristan likes you back,” I blurt, even though I'm kicking myself all the while. No lies. No fucking lies. That is going to be a hard and shitty rule to follow. “I can tell. He's never gotten over you.” Lizzie glances away and shrugs her shoulders loosely.

“Maybe, but … there's no future for us. If you like him, you should go for him.”

“The question is: who do you like best?” Andrew asks me, and I stare at him with this helpless hole opening inside my chest. Who do I like best? I have to choose?

“I have no idea,” I whisper, and then we all pause as Zack comes up to stand with us. He looks between the three of us, Lizzie and me with flushed faces, and then he raises his dark brows.

“Everything okay in here?” he asks, his voice a deep, smooth rumble that vibrates my bones. I love it, and I like him.

“Everything's fine,” I say as I exhale and try to push those feelings aside for now. Harper and Becky have just entered the room and are staring at me. I have more pressing matters to deal with, but I can't help but wonder who would envy me over this.

Having five guys—maybe five, because Windsor is … well, Windsor—interested in me is not a blessing, it's a curse.

How the fuck am I supposed to choose?

The next few weeks are packed with assignments, club meetings—why did I join so many clubs?!—orchestra rehearsals, cheerleading, and almost daily struggles between us and the ex-Bluebloods.

The crowd on the yacht was clearly split, but intimidated as hell by the boys.

For now, the Plebs seems content to watch. The only bullying I receive anymore is from the girls and their cronies. Everyone else is too scared to mess with me. Still, it's hard to say what's going to happen if push comes to shove. Will the general population side with us … or them.

“Miranda!” I call out, racing up to her in the hall. It's already October first, and I feel like we need to do some Halloween costume planning. It's going to be hard to beat last year's macaron outfits.

It's not like we haven't been talking, but there's clearly an elephant in the room. That kiss …

She's walking with Creed—we're still sticking to the pairs rule—and I've got Andrew trailing along behind me.

“Hey,” she says with a smile, and I swear, as soon as I step between the twins, I can feel the tension.

“Do you have time for dinner in The Mess?” I ask, and she nods. I give Creed a look, and he returns it with heavy-lidded bedroom eyes. “Do you mind walking Andrew back to the Towers? We'll meet you there later, and you can walk me home.” I grin, and he nods once, briefly, before pulling away.

The two of us head into the dining hall and then pause, looking between the empty Idols' table, and our old spot.

Miranda and I exchange a look.