"He's probably thinking of the best way to punish me," Tristan says with a scowl, his hands tightening into fists. He stares toward the front of the property, gray eyes dark with anger. If William treated his son so poorly before, when he was more or less doing what he wanted, what's going to happen now?

My heart aches for Tristan, but I'm not sure what, exactly, I can do.

William Vanderbilt is a billionaire—or former billionaire if the rumors about the family's money running out are true—and I'm just a high school student with a notebook, a list of rules, and a crush.

On Friday, we attend the big game, and this time, I don't sabotage Zack, I cheer him on. He carries Burberry Prep to their greatest victory of the season, and a chance at the playoffs. When he comes off the field, all sweaty and streaked with dirt, throws his arms around me and kisses me in front of everyone, I let him.

That's how the rumors start.

By Halloween, they're full-blown.

"Your name, with the word slut, is scrawled all over the bathroom mirrors," Miranda says, chucking the lid of her shoe box against the wall in frustration. "I used the emergency line to report the graffiti, but Ms. Felton says the staff is already aware of it, and that they're actively working to clean it up. When I challenged her and said that, no, I was just in there, and they weren't, she told me that it's in every single student restroom on campus."

Miranda huffs, and throws back sheets of shiny white-blond hair over her shoulders. She's so mad that she's shaking.

I'm almost disturbingly calm, examining my outfit as it sparkles on the bed.

I'm going as bubblegum this year. Yep, literal chewing gum. Doesn't sound so glamorous until you see the pink sparkly dress, shimmery silver heels with little gum wrapper bows, and the fancy hair piece I made from craft supplies the boys and I gathered in town.

"Why aren't you freaking out about this?" she asks as Lizzie uses a flat-iron to straighten her curly hair. She decided to go as a banana, but like, a sexy banana because, come on, we've been over this before. Remember Mean Girls?

Lizzie's got on a tight, yellow jumpsuit that clings to her curves. We all worked together on the group costumes, so the top has these folds of soft yellow fabric that come down like the top of a peel. She has banana earrings on, and big yellow wedge heels with white polka dots.

"Because that's what Harper and Co. want?" I suggest, exhaling as I fluff the wrapper-covered purse that I made. I used an intact piece of big pink bubble gum for the clasp. That, and I've made a little 'corsage' out of weaving silver wrappers together. To complete the look, I did my makeup in bright, sparkling pinks, and drew a huge pink circle next to my mouth, as if I'm permanently blowing a bubble.

For Miranda, we decided on 'sexy watermelon'—I know, I know, bear with me—and her outfit is freaking precious. She's got a tight red dress on with a green hem, and little black seeds dotted across it. There's a 'bite' out of the right hip that shows off her skin underneath.

Andrew ended up choosing to be a chocolate bar, but then he also turned it into drag. He's wearing a dress with an asymmetrical brown top and a silver skirt that's ruffled to look like the wrapper's been pulled down. Honestly, it's pretty brilliant. He's got on a brown wig, too much makeup, and heels, and he seems pretty happy about it.

"True," Miranda hedges, watching as I sweep my costume off the bed and head into the bathroom to change. She was totally quiet when I told her about what happened in Lujo—both the dating conversation as well as the Zack thing. However she feels about it, she's continued to be supportive.

I owe her freaking big time.

We finish getting ready and meet the boys in the hall.

It's pretty surreal, seeing them all gathered together like this. Technically, each of them is my boyfriend. I have boyfriends. How crazy is that? Part of me knows that this isn't permanent, that it'll only last so long, that a group of alpha dudes like this can't stay together forever, but the other part of me just wants to enjoy the moment.

I'm part of a group. I feel protected. I feel safe.

My eyes go to Tristan first because out of all the boys, he was the only one who refused to reveal his costume until now.

Pretty sure I almost keel over and die when I see him.

"Holy shit." The words fall out of my mouth before I can stop them, and I slap a hand to cover my lips.

He lets this wicked beautiful smile work its way across his mouth, and then moves in to stand in front of me.

"Black licorice, do you like it?" He's got on a leather jacket that's been covered in long pieces of black licorice. Underneath it, he's got on a fishnet shirt and leather pants as well as expensive loafers with bits of licorice artfully crisscrossed on the toes. He's even got a bowtie around his neck made of candy.

My heart starts to pound as he steps toward me and puts his hands on the hips of my sparkly pink dress. It's a bit too short and too tight for my liking, but it was the only one I could find that fit the theme of my costume.

"You both look and smell divine," he says with a sharp twist of his lips, leaning in to breathe the bubblegum smell that surrounds me. His usual scent of cinnamon and peppermint has been replaced with black licorice, but I don't mind. I actually like the stuff, despite the fact that everyone else I know hates it.

"Right back at you," I whisper, as he leans down and presses a kiss to the side of my throat. It's such a deliberate move, meant to make my blood boil.

It works.

I exhale and step away from him before I get too swept up in his presence. I want to check out the other guys and their costumes. We all worked so hard on the set, I need to take it all in.

Zayd is dressed up as a container of French fries—or chips as Windsor refers to them—but he's done it in such an artful way that he looks hot as hell at the same time. He's got on a pair of overalls with short legs. The suspenders are bright yellow, and the shorts part is red, like a container. He's painted a big, white McDonald's M on the ass, and made a brooch out of an order of small fries from a drive-thru. He glued them together, and I helped spray them with shellac.

Fortunately, he doesn't smell like his snack of choice and instead, when he embraces me, there's the usual clove, tobacco, and sage mixture that I've come to appreciate.

"You are beyond hot in that outfit," he whispers to me as Miranda scoffs and rolls her eyes, moving aside so Lizzie can slip out. She needed an extra minute to fix her makeup, so she's a step behind.

As soon as she appears though, I can feel her and Tristan looking at each other.

It's too much to deal with tonight, so I turn to Creed and grin. Miranda's twin is also a bitten off piece of watermelon, but instead of a dress, he's got a red shirt with black seeds, and a side cut-out that shows off his rock-hard abs. Around his neck, he's even wearing a chain with a piece of watermelon on it. As I watch, he lifts it up and takes a big bite out of it.

"At least I'm not a pirate this time," is all he says, and I grin. His pants are green, and honestly ugly as sin, but they work with the costume. And tell me this: how could Creed Cabot look anything but attractive?

"At least there's that," I agree, and I let him take my arm, ignoring the fact that Lizzie and Tristan are having some quiet conversation that I can't quite hear. She laughs, and he smiles at her. He smiles. My stomach twists, and I close my eyes against a surge of jealousy.

It's not fair for me to act like that.

I have five guys surrounding me, and Lizzie only has some distant fiancé she doesn't even like. If her and Tristan are meant to be then …

"Windsor, you're ridiculous," I say, because he's dressed up as a giant tea bag. Like, literally, he's wearing a freaking see-through shift with dried brown leaves glued and sewn to the inside, and he's got a long rope with a huge square tag hanging off of it that he's swinging around. It says English Breakfast Tea with a crown underneath it.

His red hair's sticking up as per usual, and he's got a silver tea spoon behind his ear.

The reference isn't lost on me. You know, born with a silver spoon in the mouth, meaning wealthy? Hah.

"Am I not the epitome of a youthful Adonis?" he says, the shift swirling around his bare legs. He's got boots on, but I'm not sure what else is underneath that ridiculous outfit. Hopefully underwear at the very least, but knowing the prince, maybe there's nothing at all. "I've already posted several photos on Instagram, and my mother's lost her mind." He grins like this is the greatest thing ever. "Oh, the bloody scandal. She definitely will not enjoy the tea bag references." He winks at me and I roll my eyes.

"At least you're a proper cup of English breakfast," I say, letting him take up my other arm. Zack is standing just in front of me, watching me carefully. We've been a little awkward with each other since the trip, but only because every time I look at him, heat flashes through me and I imagine his mouth on my breast.

I figure if I can still talk to Creed after the hot tub incident, we should be okay eventually.