surfboard?” She huffed and shook her head, glancing at the people in their vicinity and giving each a dismissive once-over. “He was insanely hot, but clearly his priorities were completely off. Daddy would throw him out of the house if I brought him home.”
Of course, Daddy would never meet any of the guys Sam saw. She’d have to be with them for longer than a couple weeks for that.
“Jet was a stupid name,” Charity said, pausing on the sidewalk for a car to pass. Sam was already stepping onto the crosswalk. Tires chirped on concrete as the guy behind the wheel slammed on his brakes.
“I know, right?” Sam said, flicking her hair again. “I mean, at first I was like—that’s kind of cool”—she made a line in the air with her hand—“Jet. He calls himself”—she did the line again—“Jet. Not many people can give themselves names and make it work.”
“There’s a reason for that.”
“Totally. Ugh.” She lugged her purse to her other shoulder. “I hate how heavy my handbag is.”
“That’s why backpacks have two padded straps—”
“Anyway. Finally, I realized that he was a total dweeb. He wasn’t even good in bed. I’d been totally fooling myself.”
“Dweeb? How very eighties of you.”
“I know. Eighties trends are coming back. I’m using the words to go with them. Rad, right?”
“Not really.”
“Hurry up. I need to get home and go through my closet. There is this totally fetch party tomorrow night and I need to wear something great. It’s exclusive. They actually mailed invitations. Not email, but mail-mail.”
“Snail mail, they call that.”
She stopped by her sleek, champagne-colored Porsche and swished her hair over her bare shoulder before opening her door. “The words were in this old-fashioned cursive font, but all loopy. It looked handwritten. Like someone actually used a fountain pen and wrote on the paper.” She pushed the seat up and dropped her handbag into the back before jabbing the button to open Charity’s door. “Only a handful of people were invited.” She preened as she sat in the car. “I am on a very short list, and I’m only a freshman.”
“Awesome.” Charity got into the front passenger seat, touching as little as possible so as not to dirty anything, dropped her bag between her legs, and closed the door after her.
“It totally is.” Sam’s voice rang with excitement. She absolutely lived for parties and status. This sounded like both rolled up into one. “Jessica got invited too, thank God. We’re going to go together so we don’t look like losers showing up alone.”
“Good call.” Charity draped the seatbelt over her middle, adding just enough to the conversation to fly under the radar. It was what kept her so firmly at the edge of the social group. “Power in numbers.”
“God you’re weird.”
Or maybe not.
Besides the weird maybe-thief she’d seen on campus, it felt like a normal night, with a normal amount of awkwardness. Charity certainly didn’t expect her life was about to change forever.
Chapter Two
“Hurry up, Charity!”
“Sam, no way. I am not going to that thing.” Charity put a hand on the open textbook in front of her. “I’m busy tonight.”
Samantha stalked into the room like a runway model, her shimmery metallic dress flowing over her curves and stopping just below her crotch. Her Underoos were going to get some breeze this evening. Black straps from her four-inch stilettos crisscrossed over her ankles, and spangled bracelets tinkled as she irritably placed her hand on her hip. The woman could be tenacious when she wanted something, and she really wanted Charity to go to the exclusive party with her.
Jessica had called to cancel. She hadn’t wanted to, but she’d gotten food poisoning and could barely get off the bathroom floor. Sam was devastated. The party was invite-only, she couldn’t do the inviting, and now she’d have to go alone, since she’d die before missing such a swank gathering.
Unfortunately, not ten minutes later, Sam had received a phone call inviting Charity to the party in Jessica’s place.
“Charity, no normal student sits in their room on a Friday night. Not even the biggest dweebs. You’re coming. And hurry, because Richard said we should come earlier than the invite said.” She popped out a hip. “Something about the caterer.”
“Richard?”
“The guy offering you the chance of your lifetime.” She paused. Charity offered her a blank look. Sam rolled her eyes. “The guy on the phone? Inviting you to the party?”
Charity schooled her expression into one of defiance. “Sam, I have a test coming up, and this book isn’t