Stuck With The Four Hotties

I guess that means … he was willing to overcome his fear to rescue me? “Back the shit off my girlfriend,” Zayd says, his graduation gown long

since discarded, his tattooed arms bright in the light from the car’s headlights.

“Get fucked,” Harper sneers, elbowing Creed in the face. She runs toward the shed, but he’s right behind her, knocking her into the gasoline while the two of them struggle over the matches.

Windsor and Zayd help Zack off the ground, and the three of them fend off the surge of Bluebloods as Creed finally throws Harper against the wall, pocketing the matches and running over to me. He pulls what looks like a kitchen knife from the bookbag hanging over his shoulder, and saws at the ropes.

“Seriously? You think you’re going to get out of here with this bitch?” Harper asks, pulling a lighter from her pocket. Creed ignores her, freeing me from my bindings and yanking me to my feet. He pulls me over to one of the broken windows as Harper lights the flame.

“You’ll burn, too!” Creed screams back at her, and then since he’s covered in gas, I shove him out the window before he can make me go first. He trips and falls over the edge as Harper tosses the lighter to the floor, and the entire place goes up like an inferno.

I choke at the sudden rush of heat, but Creed is already grabbing me by the arms and yanking me out into a tumble on the grass.

“We need to get out of here,” Zack says, panting as he pauses next to us and helps us both to stand.

“Not without Tristan,” I snap, and then I turn and take off into the trees, back in the direction of the swimming pool.

The scene we stumble on is awful: Tristan on his knees, bleeding from his head, his eyes closed. Greg has the gun pointed at his forehead.

We have seconds, maybe, to save him. Seconds.This text is property of Nô/velD/rama.Org.

Without thinking, I jump off the edge and slam into Greg. A shot goes off, but I don’t know if it hit Tristan or not. I didn’t see.

The other boys are down in the pool in an instant, dragging Greg off of me.

Zayd and Zack hold him still while Windsor pulls back and punches the asshole in the face as hard as he can, dropping the bully like a bag of stones.

Creed helps me stand out of the murky water, and I glance over to see Tristan struggling to get to his feet. There’s a bullet buried in the wall just behind his head, but he’s alive. Alive. He’s fucking alive. We both are.

“We need to get out of here and over to the Maserati,” Windsor instructs, and I have to think for a moment before I remember that it wasn’t my rose- gold convertible that pulled up near the pond, it was Zayd’s blue Jaguar. “We brought two cars, just in case. I imagine they’ve already slashed the tires of the other one.”

Windsor and Zack help Tristan out of the pool, while Creed and Zayd do the same for me.

Then we’re running full-out, toward the old-growth tree that’s such a landmark, we can see it painted against the orange and yellow sky. If it didn’t tower so far above everything else, we might not even know how to get out of there.

Fire is now sweeping from the maintenance shed and through the trees, taking advantage of the dry summer heat to sear the world with flames. Before long, it’ll probably be a full-blown forest fire.

Goddamn it, Harper!

We hit the parking lot only to find several of the Bluebloods waiting for us

-including John Hannibal.

“You’re not getting out of here that easy,” he says, lifting Harper’s gun in our direction. He pulls the trigger, and a shot hits the gravel near our feet.

“No, I think we are,” Windsor corrects, pulling a revolver out from under his own jacket. “I will shoot you. Just know that. It’s easier to ask

forgiveness than permission, isn’t it? I bet the Club would forget all about you if I paid them enough. You’re just not that important, John Hannibal.”

John grits his teeth, but he doesn’t drop the weapon, not until Tristan steps forward, still clutching his arm.

“You know why you all welcomed back in an instant?” he asks, voice echoing in the quiet empty space. “It’s because I’m the King of Burberry Prep, and I always will be. Now get the fuck out of the way, or the emails we have set to go out at midnight tonight are you going to wreck your family’s businesses in ways you never could’ve imagined. If you fancy being poor, by all means, be my guest.”

Both guns are lowered, nice and slow. And that’s when I hear the scream. “Where is Harper?” I ask, just before Becky comes stumbling out of the

trees.

“Harper’s been burned. It’s, like, really, really fucking bad,” she sobs, and the others look at each other for a moment before several take off to follow Becky back into the trees.

“We could help, but maybe it’s best if we call the fire department?” Creed drawls, and Zayd nods.

“Yep, let’s get the fuck out of here while we still can.” He reaches down to take my hand, and we make our way out the gate and over to the Maserati. If we need an explanation for why Zayd’s car was here, I’m sure money could take care of that. I’m not sticking around to try to move it.

The Maserati rolls down the road as I glance over the back seat, the flames from the fire licking at the darkness of the sky. In the distance, I can hear sirens blaring, but it’ll take them a while to get here. For now, we head toward the hospital, and toward Charlie.

Please let my dad be okay, I think as I lean back into Creed and his arms go around me. Please let him be okay.

Charlie Reed doesn’t die that night.

Instead, he lives for many nights after that. Not a lot, but enough that we get a proper goodbye, enough that when the time comes, I’m there by his side, our fingers curled together. I’m there when he smiles for the last time, when he looks up at me and tells me he loves me.

“I’m scared, Marnye,” he says, but I press my cheek to his, tears streaming down my cheeks to hit the pillow beneath his head.

“Don’t be. I’m here. I’ll always be here,” I whisper, and when he finally slips away, it’s with me by his side, holding onto him, always holding on.

Afterward, I let the boys drive me to Jennifer’s house, and I use my key to let myself in.

She gives me the warmest hug I’ve ever had from her in my entire life, and then I climb the stairs to the bedroom that will never be mine and fall asleep. Pretty sure I sleep for an entire week after that.

The funeral is nice. Sad … but nice.

I stand in the cemetery in Tristan’s black dress, lifting my head to the sky to look at the gently waving limbs of the trees.

“I heard you stopped by to visit Harper at the hospital,” Zayd says, putting

his hand over mine. I glance slightly to the right, and force a smile.

“I tried. She’s got burns all over her face. It’s likely she’ll be scarred for her life.” I look back at the fresh patch of dirt in front of me. The crowd is gone, Jennifer and Marley and Isabella are gone. It’s just me, Andrew, Miranda, and the boys.

“Hung with her own rope, huh?” Zayd whispers, and we all go quiet again. There’s not much to say that’ll make things better. In a few weeks, I’ll be attending orientation at Bornstead University, finding my dorm room, imagining my future.

And Charlie … he won’t be there to see any of it.

My eyes fill with tears again, but I bite down hard and hang my head. It doesn’t stop them from falling into my lap as I curl my hands into fists,

probably squeezing Zayd’s so hard it hurts. He doesn’t complain. Not at all. “I made my choice,” I whisper after a few moments. Zack sits down on

my other side, and Miranda tugs on Andrew’s hand, pulling him away to give us some privacy.

“Your choice?” Creed asks, his voice soft and unsure.

“I’ve known since we started dating that I couldn’t keep all of you forever,” I say, still looking at the shiny surface of the tombstone.