I raise my brows as I step out, and they all scatter as Zayd stands up, his eyes widening when he sees me. He’s still wearing the Feminist AF tank, but he’s jazzed up his hair and added a dash of eyeliner.
“Marnye fucking Reed,” he growls, moving over to the top of the steps and cupping his hands around his mouth. “Make way for the Idols, folks. Your queen has arrived.” Zayd takes me by the arm, leaving Miranda and Lizzie behind us as we come down the steps.
Everyone is staring at us; everyone is looking.
It’s something I never really wanted, but now that I have it, I’m going to use my position for good. Because next year, there’s going to be another student who comes into Burberry Prep with the Cabot Scholarship Award, and I want the way paved for whoever that person is.
The other boys are waiting at the bottom of the staircase, fanned out in various states of dress: a blazer, t-shirt, and slacks for Tristan; tight shirt and jean shorts for Zack; what I swear to God is a polo uniform for Windsor; and a loose white button-up that’s most definitely not buttoned up for Creed.
“Boys,” I greet, and I get the laziest, sexiest little smile from Miranda’s twin.
“Your Majesty,” he says, and Windsor grins.
“Your Majesty, indeed. Marry me and make it official. No pre-nup. You can have half my fortune if we ever get divorced.”
“You’re seriously freaking weird, and I love you for it,” I say, and then my cheeks flame as Windsor’s brows go up. “I mean, like … not love-love, but … just …” I groan and put my hand up to cover my face. I’m not ready for I love you’s just yet.
Zayd just laughs at me and pulls me through the crowd, not caring either way if the others follow along behind us. The partygoers part for us, and I swear, I don’t get jostled by even one elbow. There are faces everywhere that I recognize, some in uniform, some not. There are Coventry Prep kids here, as well as Beverly Hills Prep students. There’s even a group wearing blue blazers that say Adamson Academy on the breast pocket.
“Alright, babe,” Zayd says, turning and throwing his arms wide to indicate the massive living room with the floor to ceiling windows, the huge taxidermic elk head over the stone fireplace, and the modern furniture with just a hint of cowboy to it. Yeah, Billy Kaiser’s style is definitely not my style, but I can appreciate it. Well, okay, I can appreciate everything but the decapitated animal head. Just not my thing. “We have our own canna-bar aka cannabis bar for those who just don’t do alcohol. If I may make a recommendation …” Zayd scans across the impressive array of marijuana products. There are edibles, joints, tinctures, vape pens, all sorts of stuff.
Legal age for both booze and marijuana is twenty-one in California. I’d be worried about the cops raiding this place if I didn’t think they’d probably already been paid off.
“A recommendation, huh?” I ask, because I’ve actually never tried pot before. Like, ever. Yes, I know, I’m the epitome of the quiet study hound, but that’s okay. I’ve always embraced that part of myself. Still, while alcohol is not something I’m ready to try yet, because of my dad’s past issues and all, maybe I’d try weed?
Zayd picks up a very small piece of chocolate between his fingers and turns to me, giving me that sexy, cocksure smirk of his. There are literally dozens of girls looking our way and checking him out, a few guys, too. My possessive nature rears its ugly head, and I glance back to find similar situations with the other boys.
Trust, Mayne, trust, I think as I meet Zack’s eyes and he smiles, lifting up a beer in solidarity. He’s got his letterman jacket on again which, of course, just does all the right things for me. He’s got a girl seated on either side of him, and a couple more gathered in front of him.
“Sativa?” Creed asks, snatching the chocolate from Zayd’s fingers and giving him a look. Zayd narrows his eyes slightly, and then shrugs.
“Hybrid, but sativa dominant. Reviews on Leafly say it’s got an energetic and creative edge.”
“Energetic, huh? I could use a boost right now.” Creed pops the chocolate in his mouth, and smirks at me as he swallows. “Have you ever seen Pineapple Express, Marnye?”
“Not exactly,” I say, but I smirk right back because I’m not as ignorant as these boys might think. “But I know Leafly is an app where people can rate how much they like certain strains of marijuana, that is certain breeds, like the difference between chardonnay and cabernet. I also know that there are two types of marijuana: indica and sativa. In general, indica makes you feel more sleepy and relaxed while sativa is more likely to offer an upbeat feeling.” I exhale as both Creed and Zayd raise their brows and exchange a look. “What? I had to research this stuff for Charlie.”
