Chapter 49

“Becky’s in the corner,” he tells me, pointing her blond head out. She’s twerking on John Hannibal, his hands all over her hips. To be honest, they both look ridiculous. “Let’s make our way to the middle.” Zayd reaches down and takes my hand, his fingers burning a brand into my skin. My throat feels suddenly dry, and I throw back the rest of my soda before Zayd pulls the can from my fingers and hands it to some random guy. “Pleb,” he explains, like the other students at Burberry Prep are his personal slaves.

“I’m not really a good—” I start as Zayd spins and then pulls me into his arms. A pop-rock song starts up all of a sudden, and I realize as he grins that this is his music.

“Just mold your body to mine, and I’ll take care of you.” Zayd pulls me close to him, and I quickly find out that the way he moves his body is as infectious as his smile. He’s a born performer, bouncing to the tune and mouthing along to the words as he grabs my hand and gives me a spin. He even di