Tristan says nothing, but there’s a faraway look in his eyes that I don’t like. I’ve never seen it before. He stares across the gardens with a sigh, and then shake his head, raven-black hair fluttering gently around his face.

“She’s already made plenty of moves—we just don’t know about them yet.”

“Well, she can’t out my dad for sleeping with hookers or doing drugs: the whole world knows about that. And my grandma’s business is clean.” Zayd sits up slightly, leaning back so that his head is sort of pillowed on my breasts. I push him back down into my lap.

“I imagine we’ll find out at the next official Club meeting?” Zack hazards, and Tristan nods sharply.

“How often do those happen?” I ask, and Creed sighs.

“At least six times a year, sometimes more depending on the whims of the board.”

“There’s a board of directors for the Infinity Club?” I ask incredulously, and Creed nods.

“Both of Harper’s parents are on it. She’s a tough nut to crack.”

“Are you guys really going to get in trouble for all of this?” I lick my lips and wait for an answer, but none of the boys looks at me or gives it.

That scares me.

That scares me a whole hell of a lot.

Valentine’s Day brings equal parts revenge and romance.

The Bluebloods—and this time, I mean us and our new crew—spread a decree around the school that none of the Harpies or their Company boys are to receive roses. Anyone caught sending them is worse than a Plebian.

“This kind of politicking just doesn’t occur to me,” I say, pushing my plate away and picking up my ice tea. Zack, Zayd, and I are sitting in The Mess, eating dinner and getting ready for tomorrow. There’s the usual garden party in the evening, and now that we’re sitting on the Burberry Prep thrones, we have no choice but to go. Or at least we have to make an appearance.

“No?” Zayd asks, grinning and dipping his fingers into his ice water. He flicks some at me, and I flick some iced tea back at him. “Because, come on, pushing our cars into the pool? That was brilliant.” I grin and shrug at the same time.

“Sure, but that’s obvious. Of course you’re going to be upset if your car gets dumped in a swimming pool. But not receiving some roses on Valentine’s Day? So what?”

“That’s why I like you,” Zayd says, tugging on one of his lip rings. “Because you don’t think like they do. You have no idea how much someone like Becky craves attention and approval from others. Not getting roses on Valentine’s is, like, the equivalent of being shaved bald for her. Trust me: this is sweet, sweet revenge in its finest form.”

The door to The Mess opens, and the other boys come in, talking up seats around the table. Creed slides his foot up my leg, and I flush, pretending not to notice. Last night, he snuck over to my room in the middle of the night, and we … well, he had a quick repeat of what happened at the hotel.

He came in and didn’t say a word, pushed my shirt up and over my breasts, sucked gently on the flesh, and slid in me with a groan that’s still ringing in my ears. Just thinking about it makes my nipples pebble to fine points. It’s all so new, all this physical affection. I get jitters just thinking about it.

“What are the plans for tomorrow?” Windsor asks, leaning back in his seat and folding his hands over the front of his uniform. I’m in love with the red jackets, the plaid ties, and the white shirts. I’m going to miss them. Then again, fourth year uniforms are solid black: black ties, black shirt, black jacket, black skirt/slacks.

“Hit the garden party, grab a table, and romance the shit out of our new girlfriend?” Zayd says with a grin, and Zack slams a palm onto the table, shaking the dishes. Everyone turns to look at him, his brown eyes narrowed to slits, his gaze focused on me. I shiver under the intensity.

“No.”

“No?” Creed echoes, and Windsor raises his eyebrows. Tristan looks bored, and Zayd looks irritated.

“What do you mean no?” the rocker boy asks, rubbing his inked hand up his equally inked arm.

“I mean I’ve been placid, and I’ve been nice, and I’m done with it. I thought that’s what Marnye wanted.” Zack stops and then sits back in his chair, lifting his chin in a way that promise he’s just as much a member of the Burberry Prep royal court as any of the other guys. “But it’s not. She wants me to fight for her, so that’s what I’m going to fucking do. I’m taking her on a date, just me.”

“Says friggin’ who?” Zayd growls, rising to his feet. I reach out and grab his arm, and he sits down, letting out a string of curses.

“Where are you wanting to take me?” I ask, heart pounding, knowing this is going to be good. Zack is thoughtful. He bought me a freaking pedal harp for Christmas.

“I got some off-campus passes for the afternoon. Thought we could go to the bookstore, and I could get you some more of those boys’ love mangas you like. And then … maybe a picnic by the lake.”

“Are you for real?” Zayd asks, leaning back in his chair so far I’m worried he might topple over. “What makes you think you get Marnye all to yourself on Valentine’s Day?”

“Because I asked for it first,” Zack says, voice cool and dark. He turns to look at me. “What do you think?”

I look at the others, but they don’t give anything away.

“We can hold court at the garden party,” Windsor says, surprising me. “You go. There’ll be time for other dates later.” Zayd curses, but then he just chucks his napkin onto his plate and throws a tattooed hand up in the air.

“Yeah, sure, Mr. Rich and Royal is going to be all chivalrous and shit. Fine. Go, have fun, but remember that when I take you out,” Zayd smirks as he levels a glare on Zack, “it’s going to be a hell of a lot better than a fucking picnic.”

Valentine’s Day is just a normal day of school, capped off with the dramatic ritual of the roses. This time, I end up with a huge bundle. Pretty sure all of them are from my friends—boyfriends and non-boyfriends alike—but Zayd was right: it really does feel good to be wanted and appreciated.

After I set my colorful spray of roses up in a water pitcher (I don’t exactly have a lot of vases lying around), I change into a short, pink dress and some white ballet flats, pausing as I head out the door and find a small stack of gifts waiting for me.

Not a one of the boys is about to be outdone, so there’s a little something from everyone but Zack.

“The things I want to give you,” he says, leaning against the stone wall next to my door, dressed in jeans, a tight black shirt, and his red and black letterman jacket, “can’t be wrapped.”

My cheeks flush, and I lick my lower lip.

“Look at you, all poetic and romantic,” I murmur, putting the stack of presents carefully on my bed for later. What a treat that’ll be to come home to. What girl wouldn’t want to go on a date with her hunky football player boyfriend, and then come back to a stack of beautifully wrapped gifts from her other four beaus.

I’m starting to feel spoiled.

Zack takes my arm and we head outside, threading through sun-dappled woods toward the visitors lot until we get to his orange McLaren. He opens the doors—which lift up in a Back to the Future sort of way—and holds my hand while I climb in, ever the gentleman.

True to his word, we hit the bookstore and load up on yaoi—yes, more of the super sexual Japanese manga that I like. I’m not even ashamed to admit it anymore. Zack decides to go a different route and ends up deciding to try some yuri—a girl on girl version of the books I’ve got. He says he’s not really into manga, but I appreciate that he’s willing to give it a try.

“I didn’t know it was my thing either until … well, I read some and now it definitely is my thing,” I say as we get back in the car, and Zack puts the giant bag of books in the backseat.

The lake where we’re having our picnic is the very same one that I attended my first Infinity Club party at, in the upper northeast section of campus. When we get there, there’s already a picnic table set up with a white cloth, an old-fashioned looking basket, and bottles of chilled sparkling cider.

My cheeks flush, and I bite my lip.

“Too cheesy?” Zack asks, tucking his hands into his pockets, but it’s not, and I shake my head.

“Not to me,” I tell him, taking a seat and finding out that inside the basket, he’s put all my favorite foods: purple grapes, salami and crackers, hummus and pretzels, dried banana chips, and dark chocolate with sea salt.

The spot Zack’s picked is so close to the water that when I kick off my shoes, I can dip my toe in. Of course, even though it’s sunny outside, it’s still February, and the lake’s a bit icy. Birds chirp, and the trees rustle pleasantly in the wind.

“You know I’m not playing around, right?” he asks me, standing up and moving over to sit on my side of the table, so close that I can feel his body heat.