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Bright lights and loud music thump against the leather of our rideshare. Just like that, my apprehension is gone.
“Ahh, c’mon.” Grabbing Taylor’s hand, I pull her from the car with a squeal.
“This place is huge.” Taylor’s voice is just above a whisper.
Looking intently at the huge house in front of us, I grin to myself as I watch her. She seems to be pretty engaged in her surroundings for someone who didn’t even want to come.
“Amazing, isn’t it?”
My eyes dance around the driveway, trying to find where I want to focus first. Rows of expensive cars accessorize the white brick home. Black-cased windows provide a subtle contrast to the glowing inside, making it look sleek and high end.
As we inch closer to the entrance, two large French doors hold the key to our entry.
House parties in college were nothing but sticky floors and shared bed linens. Here, in the luxurious town of Greenway Grove, house parties are no different from stepping into the nicest downtown club—if at all superior.
Butlers, chefs, and security. Glass rooms full of the nicest booze. Extra party favors, if that’s your prerogative. The only caveat: you must be somebody or know somebody to get access.
Walking up the stairs, haughtiness lifts my chin, standing taller in my stilettos. At the doors, two men dressed in all black stop us before we get too far.
“Name?” he asks gruffly.
“Uh…” Taylor hesitates. I laugh, stepping ahead of her just slightly, taking the reins.
“Fia Chandler.” I pull out my coy tone.
Unable to read through his dark-colored lenses, I tip my shoulder to my ear, swaying just in case I need something extra to guarantee we get in.
Clipboard in hand, the guard-like man stifles through a list as long as a short story. By the third page, I grow worried, until he stops.
His eyebrows rise from beneath his lenses, but his face stays motionless. “Very well. Have fun, Miss Chandler.”
Taylor and I walk to the right of him, crossing the threshold into the unknown home. Holy shit. This place is insane. Gasping as we enter, two women dressed in black cocktail dresses greet us with trays full of brown and clear beverages.
“Cocktail?” one asks.
“What are our options?” I flirt, just as she’s doing with me.
Even if it is her job, having eyes on me makes me feel so sexy. It’s not always that I’m the center of attention, though I make no complaint when attention always seems to center itself around me.
“Woodford and Coke, or Billionaire and soda.”
“Billionaire? Even the drinks are rich?” Taylor’s voice is low near my shoulder.
“We’ll take the vodka.”
Plucking two crystal cocktail glasses, I hand one to my friend, then thread my free hand through her elbow, guiding us deeper into the house.
“I’ve only ever seen houses like this in movies.”
Exposing my dimples to every cute man that passes, I keep my eye on the lit back patio, smiling as an answer.
“Seriously, do you come to a lot of parties like this?”
When we’re finally by the yellow ambient lit pool, Taylor and I find an empty spot to stand. A spot out of the way, yet desirable enough to invite anyone who’d like to find their way to us.
“Just go with the flow. You look like you belong, and that’s the hardest part.”
I take my own survey of who’s here. Beautiful women and even more alluring men dance all around. Some in dresses, some wearing less. Those ballsy enough to get into the water make it look so desirable.
