I make it to Fifth Avenue, and that’s when I start recognizing faces. We’re all heading in the same direction. The party is being held at the trilevel penthouse of a guy named Darby Harborne. It’s noted that there will be no adult supervision. However, attendees aren’t to stray from the upper floor and rooftop. The more people I see, the more nervous I become. A line of expensive cars is stopped in front of the building. Some people are being let out, and others are handing off their vehicles to valet attendants.
Feeling like a fish out of water, I follow those who appear to be students to a long line and take my place in it. Two burly security guards stand at glass doors to the left of an elegant empty lobby lit by crystal-encrusted chandeliers. Apparently, we’re not going in through the main lobby. We’re being shuffled into a private hallway. This entire scene is not what I had in mind. First of all, it appears as if I’m the only person who came without friends or a date. Second of all, I didn’t know I’d have to wait, alone.
Momentarily, I consider calling Gina, an acquaintance from the programming club. We’re not great friends, but we do have lunch together just about every day in the tech room. She and I went shopping together in DUMBO once too. We spent most of our time wandering in and out of stores, not saying much to each other.
In retrospect, this has truly been the loneliest year of my life. That truth slams into me like a ton of bricks. Maybe I should go home and forget I ever knew these people. I take notice of them bouncing around excitedly, happy to be around each other. I sigh, thinking I should give up my fantasies about Hercules Valentine. He’s never going to be into me anyway.
“Listen up!” a man’s voice booms.
We all stretch and angle our necks, trying to get a better view of the muscular security guard.
“Your party has reached capacity. When one comes out, I’ll let one in!”
Groans erupt. I’m sort of relieved, thinking the announcement is a sign that I belong at home.
“Is that you, Paisley Grove?” one of the girls standing behind me asks. I turn to see who she is, and my gaze latches on to Greenly. “No waiting for us, chickadees,” Greenly says, strolling past the long line as if she’s the queen of the universe.
If the black beaded dress she’s wearing were a half inch shorter, we would have a clear view of her vag. Her hair is longer and thicker than it was today in the hallway. She’s added extensions, making herself even more glamorous than usual.
Just before the green-eyed monster can seize me, Hercules gallops out of nowhere to walk beside Greenly and Donovan. I inhale sharply and hold my breath. He’s so yummy. Dark pants hug his strong athletic thighs, and a black short-sleeved shirt shows off his hilly chest and biceps. The sight of him always has the ability to take my mind to places it never goes with other boys. Like now. As I again stare into his sexy eyes, I can picture him on top of me, and I’m wondering what it would be like to have him take my virginity. I smile at him tentatively. I think he does the same, but I can’t be sure.
The parade is almost over. Just to show how special they are, Greenly leads Hercules and Donovan to the main lobby. She flashes a bracelet at the doorman, who lets her in. Donovan, with his nose stuck up in the air, does the same and follows behind her. When they’re both inside, they turn toward the glass door and search for Hercules, who has peeled away from them. He’s saying something to the guard, and he and the muscular man are looking at me.
The guard nods, and Hercules walks in through the entrance reserved for the rest of us. I like that about him, and frankly, our brief interaction is enough to satisfy me not only for the rest of the night but forever. Smiling and happy, I step out of line and take a step.
“Paisley Grove?” a husky voice calls.
I whip around. The guard is walking toward me. My head spins so fast that I fight the urge to pass out.
He stops. “You’re in. Follow me.”
For some reason, my feet won't move.Did Hercules just arrange my entrance into the party? And if so, what does that mean for us?
“You should go,” one of the girls who was standing behind me says. I glance at her. I don’t recognize her even though she clearly knows who I am.
I turn my attention back to the guard, who’s waiting for me to walk in the wrong direction—the right direction would be to go back home and slip into bed and be fast asleep before my parents return. But as if my feet and brain are on automatic pilot, I skip the line and head to the gateway that leads to the boy of my dreams.
Chapter Four
Bad Boys
Paisley Grove
Fifteen Minutes Later
The bass that’s playing thumps like a perpetually rising heartbeat. I like the song and wonder who the artist is as I finally find a comfortable nook against the wall, where I can see all the action, and position myself in it. The party is wall-to-wall packed. The lights are low. And there’s a lot going on. Heads bob up and down and this way and that to my right, where people are dancing. Bodies coil around each other provocatively. I wonder if Hercules and Greenly have made their way to the dance floor and are among those dry-humping each other in plain sight. Students I recognize who are not old enough to drink are downing glasses of alcohol. I try to place all the faces I see. I’m not being ignored as much as I thought I would be. People are looking at me, and I wonder if it’s because they’re trying to figure out if I’m me or someone else. Apparently, I don’t look the same tonight. There are a lot of faces I don’t recognize. The house is decorated nicely, though—more contemporary than ours by a mile. Partygoers lounge easily on the massive sectionals and ottomans. Conversation is lively. I don’t know who to speak to or what to do. And still, Hercules is nowhere in sight.
“Wait, PG? No fucking way, no way, Paisley Grove?” O’Brien Klein says, stopping in the middle of passing by. He’s tall and lanky—about six feet, four inches—and obviously tipsy. O’Brien plays basketball for our school. I heard he’s a good athlete but not the best. The scholarship players are the reason our school is number three in the state. He’s not one of them. His father owns a food-manufacturing company, and therefore, his tuition is paid in full. However, I’ve noticed how cocky he can be, strolling through the hallways like he owns the world. He’s never paid me any attention, and I’ve been okay with that.
I raise my hand lazily to say hi. Of all the people here tonight, he’s the only one who has spoken to me, so I can’t blow him off like I want to.
He flashes a slanted smile as his appreciative gaze slips up and down my body. “You look hot, PG. I knew you had it in you.”
“Who’s PG?” I ask, annoyed by the fact that he changed my name into an acronym.
“You’re PG, Paisley Grove,” he says, sounding as if he didn’t detect an ounce of my irritation. “Hey, can I get you a drink?”
I shake my head adamantly. Since I smell alcohol on his breath, I assume he wants to fetch me a cocktail too. “I don’t drink.”
