Stuck With The Four Hotties

nda grumbles, waiting for Ms. Felton to turn her back, so she

class?” Ms. Felton dumps the coffee into the drain of a water fou

t’s like, that shit never fades.” Miranda pauses and then peeps around the corner, like she’s checking to see if Ms. Felton’s f

her red pleated skirt until it’s dangerously short, like Fan’t bend over or reaFh for too h

y her, she groans and steps forward, tugging the crisp white blouse from my waistband. I sort of just stand there and let

leans over and taps the piece of paper she wrote out for me. On the bot

platinum blonde behind her ears. It’s so pale, it’s practically white, but when the sun leaks in thro

I think she’s got eyelash extensions, but it would be rude to ask. Hell, maybe I’m just jealous and she’s just pretty? “Well, except this one time when Karen Evermeet sc

t smile, and I squeeze her

t of comradery simmer between us. There are thin

r

y hand before we reach the chapel for the morning announcements. Or, like, if we’re ev

es on my eyes, headphones on my ears. I memorized the entire layout, and yet … I’m so turned around I don’t even remember whi

mething that takes my breath

en. He’s lounging in a chair with insouciant disregard, an air of entitled laziness captured in his long limbs. The wa

ugh the glass, but it’s nowhere near as beautiful as the guy in the loose tie and half-tucked shirt. He’s still crisp, still polished and put- together, but with an air

s ice-colored eyes swing our way,

d by that sharp gaze as Creed makes his way over to us. He’s tall, sure, but he feels even taller by the way he stands, hi

e me the time of day. Rude muFh? I raise an eyebrow and cross my arms, waiting for him to acknowledge me. “Was wond

ver to me. I swear, even from here, I can smell him. He’s got this crisp linen scent with just a

d down with a calculating coolnes

ently, he already has. “Yeah, Mom’s pet peasant. I already know that.” Creed looks at me, his skin like alabaster, his exp

to come up with

e here, Mr. Cabot. It was