“Not only are wegetting in, but we wereinvited,” Priya singsonged.
“And explainthis,” Siobhan said with a flutter of her coffin-nail-tipped fingers, gesturing around the interior of the stretch limousine we were riding in.
I peered over at my two closest friends. I’d met Siobhan and Priya back in February, during my third semester at NYU.
The day after the messenger had arrived to deliver the news of our eviction, my father finally broke down. He told me that Knox had betrayed him and Kitty and taken everything, leaving us to fend for ourselves. He’d explained to me in less callous words than the prior day that I would have to venture out on my own, rather than stay with them any longer. And while his tone had been smooth, his words had pierced my heart as only those of a father could.
Needless to say, I’d been both terrified and a bit excited. Without a plan, the only thing I’d considered was college, so I immediately started preparing my applications. I hadn’t been hopeful that I would get into my top choices considering I’d been homeschooled and because of my age, but I’d been left with no other choice.
Another messenger had come the next day and delivered a letter for me this time. I’d been shocked to find an acceptance letter to NYU with a full ride, even though I was still preparing my applications and hadn’t actually submitted any. Even now, I wondered how my father had pulled strings and gotten me in, but I had never asked him, never cared to. I’d merely been grateful that I wasn’t going to live in a cardboard box somewhere.
Although many people complained about living in the dorms, I happened to love it. Having been isolated for so long, I’d found being around so many people a relief, if not a bit overwhelming. It was there that I met my roommate, Siobhan, and her best friend, Priya, after Siobhan moved in, taking my former roommate’s place. I never heard what happened to her, but if I had to guess, Rose ran off to join a rock band. She was an interesting one, to say the least. Both Siobhan and Priya were sophomores who complained more about the dorms than they did about New York’s hot summers and icy winters. Yet they didn’t attempt to move into any other housing, claiming it was too much work.
While I wouldn’t go so far as to say the three of us were now besties by any stretch of the imagination, I found them far more pleasant than Rose. At least they had more to talk about than a drab boyfriend who didn’t give her enough attention and some famous drummer who was to die for. Plus, Siobhan and I enjoyed doing things together. Grabbing coffee, the occasional window-shopping day, and yes, going out to bars and clubs whenever the urge struck. Not that I got those urges often since I preferred being in my room, snuggled up on the bed with my iPad, watching the unlimited number of movies I’d been restricted from seeing the majority of my life.
“Someone’s got your number, girl,” Priya said, rubbing her hands together, a devious smile plastered on her pretty face. “Now the question is: who?”
Yes, that was the question. I didn’t have the slightest idea who would’ve personally invited me to Obsession, the hottest nightclub in Manhattan, for my birthday and sent a car to drive me and my friends there.
“It was Kieran,” Siobhan said, speaking the man’s name as though they were on a first-name basis. I knew for a fact Siobhan did not know Kieran O’Rourke, the owner of Obsession. Nor had she ever even met him.
“His namewason the invite,” Priya declared.
“Because he owns the place,” I countered, replaying the argument we’d initially had when I showed them the ridiculously formal (and costly) invitation that had been delivered to me by a courier.
Kieran O’Rourke’s name was probably on all the stationery, or at least that was the excuse I was going with because no way would I believe the owner of Obsession had personally decided I was worthy of passing through his doors on one of the busiest nights of the week.
Although we’d attempted numerous times over the past few months to get into Obsession by standing in the line that wound down and around the block, it never worked. Probably had something to do with the fact that I wasn’t model-perfect like Siobhan and Priya. Next to them, I looked like a little kid playing dress-up. I was short and pale and … nothing compared to Priya, with her flawless light brown skin, big brown eyes, and curvy figure, or Siobhan with her rich ebony skin, long dark hair, and legs that went on for miles. They made gorgeous look effortless and made heads turn without even trying. I felt like a fraud just being in the same room. Go and dress me up in a skintight dress and hooker heels, and I felt … fake.
Oh, sure, they tried to play to my ego, but I wasn’t an idiot. I was not going to make the bouncers look twice, and no matter how much I agreed to flaunt the assets I did have, I never followed through.
There might’ve been a few cracks in my good-girl shell, but I wouldn’t go so far as to say I’d broken free of it yet.
“Howdidyou get an invite to Obsession?” Priya asked, tossing her long, silky black hair over her shoulder and sipping the champagne that had been waiting for us when we climbed inside.
“I have no idea,” I admitted. I had racked my brain trying to figure it out, but I came up empty every time.
Despite my friends’ endless chattering, I managed to keep my mouth shut for the remainder of the drive from the dorms to the club, entertaining myself by watching the lights and the people as we passed them. Although I’d been living in New York for nearly two years, it still felt like the very first day. So new, so exciting. Each red light gave me more to see, and I found I loved every single second, wondering if I would ever want to leave now that I was building a life for myself here.
When the car finally pulled up to the club with the line of people and the velvet ropes keeping them back, I was overwhelmed with an anxious churning sensation in the pit of my stomach.
“Come on, girl. Let’s get our drink on,” Siobhan shouted as she stepped out into the night.
Priya was next, and I followed quickly, feeling awkward and gangly the instant my feet touched the ground. The four-inch stilettos I was wearing weren’t something I was used to, so I wobbled for a moment but managed to catch myself, smoothing my wool peacoat and gripping my clutch tightly.
My friends looped their arms with mine and strolled up toward the entrance. I could feel the eyes of those in line, and I ignored that inner voice that said I should be in that line, too, not waltzing to the front like I was someone special.
I tuned out the chatter and admired the smooth bass beat that flowed out into the night while my friends guided the way toward the muscular guys standing sentry at the ropes. I was prepared to show them the invitation in my clutch, but before I could, the beefy guy on the left greeted me by name. “Good evening, Miss Campbell.”
I was struck speechless momentarily, staring back at him and wondering how he knew who I was.
A sharp elbow—Priya’s, no doubt—pierced my side, spurring me into action. “Good evening…” I greeted back, letting the sentence hang when I realized I didn’t know his name.
“Matt,” the man supplied.
“Good evening, Matt,” I repeated, earning a beaming grin from Matt and a giggle from my friends. They always did find my refinement amusing. Despite the fact that I’d left my former life and ventured out on my own, I found I couldn’t shed all my skin. All the manners Kitty had drilled into me had stuck.
“Have a wonderful evening,” he said as he removed the latch on the rope and allowed us to pass through before hooking it once more.
