Stuck With The Four Hotties

Before I can think of what to say, the front door opens, and Zack’s mom, Robin, steps out. She’s dressed in a tasteful cream suit with low heels, her chocolate hair frothing around her face. When she sees me, she smiles.

“To be honest,” she says, as she tucks her hands in her pockets and steps onto the deck, “I didn’t think you were going to accept our invitation. But I’m glad you did.” Robin glances over at Charlie, and they shake hands in a very businesslike manner. I know they had a long, long conversation at the football game, but I’m not entirely sure how it went down. “Come on in.”

Robin gestures for us to head inside, and we do, moving down a long, marble hallway and into a formal dining room that’s laid out like a magazine spread.

“My parents love to put on a show,” Zack whispers, leaning over my shoulder and putting his lips near my ear. My entire body goes white-hot in an instant and goose bumps spring up along my arms. Luckily, Dad is too busy being introduced to Zack’s sister, Kelsey, and some family friends of theirs. Zack’s dad is nowhere to be seen. “Just … don’t praise my mom for her home cooking,” he adds with a slight quirk of his mouth. “It’s all catered.”

Zack pulls out a chair for me, and I tuck my fluffy red skirt under my thighs before sitting. He rests his hands briefly on my shoulders before pushing me in and sitting beside me. Charlie’s definitely watching us now, and I flush.

“I have to admit, I didn’t want to come over here,” Dad says as he sits across from me, and Robin takes up her spot at the head of the table. Zack’s sister sits across from him, and the couple-I didn’t catch either of their names-is at the end of the table. “But my daughter is a very forgiving soul. It’s a trait I can’t bear to discourage.”

I smile tightly, and Zack raises both of his dark brows. If Charlie only knew … Would he be proud of me? Or disappointed? I try not to think too hard about it.

“Well, my son is quite the opposite, unfortunately,” Robin says, and Zack narrows his eyes. He looks at his mother, and they exchange one of those quiet, personal conversations that requires no words. “He seems to take after his father, sadly enough.”

“Why do you say things like that?” Zack whispers, his voice low and dark, menacing. “You know that’s a bunch of bullshit. I’m nothing like him.”

“What you did to this girl,” Robin says, as she stands up with a pair of carving knives in hand. She’s a bit scary like that. “That was something your father would’ve done at your age. If you’re ashamed, then good: you should be.”

Zack scowls, but I smile. Robin reminds me of Kathleen a little, just a bit

… softer? After a moment, she sighs and forces a smile of her own.

“I love you, son. Don’t mess this up. Pulling a girl’s pigtails because you like her isn’t cute.”

“Like her?” Dad echoes, looking between me and Zack like he’s just now figured something out.

Oh god.

Robin chuckles as Charlie narrows his eyes on her son. Meanwhile, Zack just sits there like he always does, a chiseled bunch of muscles and a narrowed dark gaze. When he glances over at me, I suddenly decide we’re sitting too close. But would scooting my chair away a few inches be too obvious? Probably.

“The boy has a crush,” Robin says, and her friends both laugh while Dad sits there with his brow all scrunched up. Zack’s sister, Kelsey, isn’t shy about voicing her opinions either. She doesn’t look like Zack or her mother, so I figure her pale orange hair and light green eyes are a product of their father’s genetics.

“He pined after her all last year. It was absolutely intoxicating.”

Zack growls at his sister, but Robin just tsk-tsks at them and starts to carve the turkey, passing out slices to me and Dad first, then her friends, her daughter, and lastly, her son. She winks at him when she finally passes over the plate.

“I’m just glad they’re both going to the academy,” Kelsey says, smiling prettily at me. She seems nice enough, but I’m so wary of beautiful girls now. I shouldn’t be-that’s some stupid internalized misogyny right there- but it’s true. I’m scared of beautiful boys, too, so at least nobody could call me sexist. “Zack’s basically obsessed.”

“Okay, Kelsey, you can shut the fuck up now,” Zack says, but I’m holding back laughter, and Dad is terrified out of his mind.

“The f-word at the dinner table? Come on, Zack Marcus Brooks, have some class.” Robin takes her seat, and we all serve ourselves from the side

dishes. Everything looks so pretty, like it’s from a cooking show or something. It’s prettier than last year, when Zack and I sat at a big, lonely table all by ourselves. This is much better.

I’m overwhelmed briefly by deja vu, like I’m playing out the same story out, just with a different outcome. Creed with the notebook, Zack at Thanksgiving. But this time, when the bet is won, and hearts are being shattered like fragile glass baubles, it won’t be mine that’s on the ground in bloodied pieces.

No, this time, it’s the Idols who are going to get a taste of their own medicine.

I smile as I scoop up a bit of sweet potato and catch Zack watching me.

Underneath the table, his long leg bumps into mine, and I feel my throat get suddenly tight. Butterflies take over, and it takes all I’ve got to focus on the conversation at hand. Apparently Robin’s friends own a vineyard and they’re looking for someone to create some custom ironwork arches, benches, and beds for their B&B. Dad ends up with a job and a glass of scotch that costs more than his car, while Zack and I retreat to the backyard and dip our legs in the heated pool.

We’re sitting close enough that our thighs line up. It’s funny, looking at them like that. Mine is so much smaller than his.

“You pined for me all last year, huh?” I ask, and Zack’s mouth purses tight. He has such a full lower lip. As I stare at it, I can’t help but remember that kiss at the football stadium, and it’s just … like, all of the feels. All of them.

“Maybe.” He turns to look at me, moonlight catching on his masculine features, that straight Greek nose of his, that full mouth. Goodness. I exhale sharply and turn away, looking out across the water. “Would it make any difference?”

“Not really.” But maybe. I keep that thought to myself, knocking my heels against the side of the pool. “How did you and Lizzie come to make that bet anyway?”

Zack goes still beside me, but after a moment, he exhales, like he’s given up.

“Lizzie was a senior member of the Infinity Club; she was sponsoring me. A sponsor always has to challenge their new recruit to a game with high stakes. She was goaded by the other girls. Don’t let Harper or Becky or anyone else pretend to be innocent in all of that.”

“And you? Who were you goaded by? Are you going to blame Tristan, Creed, and Zayd for what you did?” Zack shakes his head, reaching up to run his palm over his hair. His shirt is unbuttoned now, and he’s rolled his slacks up to his knees. Seeing his interactions with his mother, it’s clear he wore the outfit to please her. It’s kind of cute actually, to get this little snippet of his life that shows he cares. It makes this very clear distinction in my mind between Zack and Creed.

Creed doesn’t care if he upsets his family or not. Well, I mean he Fares, but yet he does it anyway. It’s so frustrating to watch.

“No. I take full responsibility for my actions.” Zack sighs again, like he’s suddenly so tired. “But you’ve seen them: they’re monsters. All three of them. Honestly, Marnye, take your revenge and then run. You won’t see any remorse from them.”

“I’m not expecting any,” I admit, looking at the curving maze of gardens that makes up Zack’s backyard. Well, one of his backyards I guess, considering I’ve already seen three of his family’s houses: this one, the lake house from last year, and the place he used to live when he attended LBMS. I wonder why his grandfather chose to cut his family off in the first place … and what spurred him to give it all back? “That’s not the point of all of this. Their whole lives, they’ve gotten away with whatever they wanted. The rest of their lives, they probably will, too. For this one, tiny blip on their timeline, I want them to know what it feels like. If it stops them from victimizing one person, then it’s worth it.”

“And that’s it?” Zack asks, voice gently probing, but not pushing. “It has nothing to do with the fact that they broke your heart?”

I purse my lips tight and dig my nails into the cement edge of the pool.

“If it does, it’s none of your business,” I tell him, my voice rough. He turns away sharply, and we sit there in silence for several minutes, the water lapping at our bare legs.

“We don’t deserve you,” Zack growls finally, pushing away from the edge of the pool. “Not a single one of us. Remember that, Marnye.” He turns and pads away with wet feet.

I sit there staring at my reflection until Charlie comes to get me, wondering about my own motivations.This text is property of Nô/velD/rama.Org.

Wondering if my broken glass heart isn’t still making me bleed.