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ber which entrance..." Suddenly, a plain black door right in front of us opened and out stepped the single most perfect specimen of
manhood I had ever laid eyes on outside a movie theater. He was tall, with highlighted blond hair, golden stubble all along his cut
cheekbones, and blue eyes that could cut steel. His suit was black, his shirt a pristine, crisp white that was opened one extra button to
show the top of his tanned chest. For a moment none of us breathed.
"Reed Brennan?" he asked with an inquisiti
ve smile. London had to forcibly shove me forward. "That would be me," I said to the
supermodel. His smile widened and he opened the door further. "Welcome to Suite 13." "I don't care where we have this thing, we're
hiring this guy as our doorman," I whispered to my friends. "I second that!" Vienna offered. Giggling like girls at a tea party, we hus-
tled inside. "I'm Lucas, the assistant manager of Suite 13," Mr. Hot said as he led us down a dimly lit hallway with red-glass lamps
hanging from the ceiling. He offered me his hand to shake. It was warm, strong, and very large. "Here at the suite, we pride ourselves
on being one of the most versatile spaces in all of Manhattan. With our high ceilings, moveable booths, and huge square footage, we
can turn our suite into anything your heart desires."
We came out onto a balcony with two staircases on either side, descending at a curve to a large, pitlike room. There were huge bars
on either side, and round, suede booths in dark jewel tones dotted the room, surrounding a gleaming black dance floor. I could just
imagine the place decorated with dark floral centerpieces and swags of cloth, flashbulbs popping, and champagne flowing. It was in-
credible. "Oh, no," Noelle said under her breath. "Yeah. I know," Vienna replied. "Not good." "What's going on?" I asked. "Is there a
problem?" Lucas added, gripping the railing with one hand. "No. Not at all," Noelle replied smoothly, tossing her hair over her shoul-
ders. "I just need to confer with my friends for a moment." "Take your time," Lucas replied. He moved a few feet off and whipped out
his Treo. Noelle tugged my arm, leading all four of us into the tiny alcove outside the bathrooms. "We can't have it here," she whis-
pered. "Why not? I like it," I replied.
"Dash had his seventeenth birthday party here," Noelle said, glancing over her shoulder. "I forgot about it until I saw the room."
My shoulder muscles coiled at the mere mention of Dash's name. At the not-so-new but still annoying realization that he and Noelle
and everyone at Easton had had very full lives before I ever showed up there. That he and Noelle had a shared history I would never
be a part of. I knew that hooking up with Dash had been wrong, but it still stung that he had been able to dismiss me so easily, without
so much as a phone call or an explanation. All of this hit me from every angle as I stood there with Noelle, Sabine, and the Twin Cities
waiting for my comment. "So?" I said finally. "That was almost two years ago." "Exactly," Sabine added, taking my side as always.
"And you heard what Lucas said. The room can be anything we want it to be. We can make it look completely different."
Noelle smirked and glanced over at Vienna, who hid a laugh behind her hand. London simply chuckled out loud. Clearly, they were
all so very amused at our naivete. Which, of course, made my blood boil. "First of all, it doesn't matter what Mr. Universe over there
says, people will know it's the same place," Noelle replied in a facetious tone. "This is supposed to be the event of the season. You
