"This is where Griffin lives?"

I try not to sound incredulous as Victoria, her two friends, and I ride in the elevator up to a penthouse condo. Floor thirty, apparently.

Victoria shoots me a triumphant little grin and nods. "He's loaded," she whispers, and her two friends giggle while exchanging knowing looks.

That was obvious from his cars and his clothes. But I assumed he was one of those guys who spent most of his money on those two things and lived in a nice, yet mediocre, apartment somewhere. I never imagined he lived at the very top of South Beach's tallest condo, at an address so exclusive that I'd seen ads for it in the fashion magazines I read during study hall.

"Wait till you see this place," Victoria says. "He's got a private pool and everything."

Her two friends — who somehow look identical with their tans, their heavy black eye makeup and their straight hair, despite one being a brunette and one a platinum blonde — let out soft giggles. As if they know something I don't.

The blonde stares into the reflective elevator door and makes a duck face, smoothing her already pin-straight mane. "I'll bet you've spent some interesting nights in that private pool, Victoria."

Again she glances at me with a smug smile. Is she trying to tell me something? Between that expression and how she'd been so familiar with Griffin that night at Babylon, I wonder if they're together. No, that doesn't make sense, either. Griffin had treated her like a friend that night outside the club. I chew on my cheek, feeling more uncomfortable as the elevator rises into the sky.

When the doors slide open, I allow Victoria and the other two to exit first, and they strut like models at a fashion show. I step out, assuming I'll be deposited into a hallway like any other elevator. Instead, I find myself standing smack in a living room.

Griffin's living room.

I scan the space. Windows and glass balcony doors ring the entire room, and on top of those, more glass windows stretch to the ceiling, giving the place a soaring, majestic feel. There are no curtains. I know that beyond the windows is only beach and ocean, but all I can see is the dark night.

The furniture is white and everything is pristine and pure. How does a guy in his mid-twenties keep all this clean? He must have a housekeeper.

When I finally focus on the people, a knot forms in my stomach. Less than two days ago, I was wearing a hoodie while slouched at a desk in biology class in my suburban high school, trying not to fall asleep. Now my senses are assaulted by beautiful people, the smell of Coco Chanel and sleek trip hop beats.

It's not a crowded party, and maybe if it was I'd be less nervous because I could better blend into the crowd. No, there are only a few dozen people here at best, and Victoria waves and blows kisses at several. Her friends, who aren't much older than me, glide off, into the arms of much older men. As in, forties or fifties. As in balding and wrinkles.

Now I know why Griffin didn't want me here. These people are older, better dressed and far more attractive than I am. Some look professional, like they have real jobs in offices, while others look like they might work at clubs or bars. Or own clubs and bars.

He'd be embarrassed by me, I realize. My heart drops to my stomach and gets tangled up with that knot. I'm like the geeky extra on a tween television show compared to these people. I sneak a glance at a few women, who are stick thin. Great. I'm a geek who hasn't lost her baby fat.

"Come on," Victoria grabs my arm, "Let's get a drink and find Griff."

I'm able to muster some inner outrage at her calling him Griff — it sounds so intimate coming from her — but I lapse back into self consciousness as my heels tap on the polished marble floors. I'm wearing a little black dress tonight, another Goodwill find. It has a halter top, a stretchy waist and a flowy skirt. I thought it showed off my curves but seeing all these women in skin-tight dresses, it feels dumpy.

There's a bar in the corner, and as we make our way through groups of people I rub my lips together, probably erasing any lipstick I'd applied earlier. My heart is thump-thump-thumping in my throat as I look around for Griffin.

"Hey, what do you want to drink?" I turn to the sound of Victoria's voice and shrug.

She sighs and steps to the bar, which has a uniformed bartender on the other side. Griffin's hired a bartender?

"Two champagnes, please." As the bartender pours, she stuffs a wad of ones into a tall glass jar.

"Cheers." She hands me the champagne and clinks her glass to mine.

I murmur the same word and take a tiny sip. I might be only seventeen, but I know enough not to drink too much, too fast, tonight. The last thing I want is to be out of control around these people. If I could only blend into the surroundings like a chameleon, that would be better.

"C'mon, let's find him." Victoria walks away and I follow obediently. If I don't, I'm not sure what to do with myself. Stand in a corner? Sidle up to the catered spread and eat carrot sticks? Flee to the bathroom? Everything seems like a bad option so my only choice is to stick close to her.

We wander through the living room, which blends into the all-white kitchen, and then down a hall. Maybe I can call an Uber. Slip out and away before I even see Griffin. Yes. That's what I'll do.

"Here's the guest room." She opens the door, only two find two pretty women sitting on a bed decked out in a white comforter with pale blue swirls, deep in conversation. They look at us with sour expressions.

"Sorry!" Victoria's voice seems to have two tones: purr and trill.

We continue down the hall. "This is his bedroom," she whispers, and again, a wave of jealousy washes over me.

"Who? Griffin's?"

"Of course, silly."

I hold my breath when she puts her hand on the doorknob. What if he's in there? With someone? I exhale when I see that it's empty inside. Victoria walks in as if she owns the place, which at this point, I figure might be true.

"You have to see his bathroom."

Hesitant, I enter the bedroom, taking in the low, dark leather headboard, the rust-colored bedspread, the dark wood side tables. There's a matching desk in one corner, with a computer screen, and on the opposite wall of the bed, a flat-screen television. No decorations, just sleek, masculine lines.

I shiver when I see the bed, thinking about Griffin lying in it. Naked. Not that I've ever seen a naked man.

"Isn't this incredible?"

I peek into the attached bathroom. It's all while marble and tile, with a huge bathtub and a glass-enclosed shower. Griffin showers in there. I try to push thoughts of his wet skin out of my mind, and nod.

"Super nice," I murmur.

"Way better than anything in Kendall, am I right?"

In that moment, I like Victoria. Maybe she's like me, a girl from the suburbs, only one who's escaped a boring life.

"Well, he's not in here. Maybe he's on the deck. We really need to find him because I suspect he's going to be thrilled to see you."

I run a finger over the cool, white marble. "Hey, Victoria, thanks so much for bringing me here. Now that I see all this, I feel a little uncomfortable—"

"Don't be stupid. You fit right in. Let's go." She sweeps out and I have no other choice but to leave with her. I mean, what if Griffin finds me cowering alone in his bedroom? Then he'd really think I'm a loser.

Again I follow her as she shows me another bathroom, the theater room, which is an entire room with a huge flat screen and chairs that look like they belong in the screening room of the motion picture academy. Victoria offhandedly mentions how she watched some blockbuster movie here one night.

I swallow a lump in my throat. There's the jealous flare-up again.

I point to a closed door and we stop. "Another guest room?"

She shakes her head. "That's his sister's room."

"Right. They live together."

"Yeah, they have since Zoe got her MBA. You should tell your brother she's back." Victoria whirls around and heads to the end of the hallway.

I feel like I'm literally and figuratively three steps behind. Victoria seems to know far more about Griffin, of course, but also some details about my own brother and his relationship with Zoe. I guess it makes sense, since they all went to high school together.

She pushes open a door and we walk outside, the humid Miami air hitting my skin. There are more people outside, and they're lounging on low-slung, modern outdoor furniture. A pool is at the end of the deck, its underwater lights making the water shimmer like the blue glitter I used in elementary school. Everything looks like an ad in a magazine. There's another bar here, with another uniformed waiter and I'm reminded that I'm holding a glass of champagne.

I take a hesitant sip and watch Victoria squeal and hug an older man in a black T-shirt, skinny tan jeans and black sneakers. "When did you get in from Amsterdam? Are you staying with Griffin? How long are you here?"

While he's kissing her cheek, his eyes are on me, doing a slow assessment of my body. Gross.

"This morning. Rough flight. I'm staying at the Standard. Only here for a long weekend. Who's this beauty?"

"Juliette, get over here. Meet my friend on Paul. He's from Amsterdam." She takes my arm as if we're old friends, and when I think the guy is going to extend his hand, he leans in to kiss my cheek. I cringe inside, not waiting to get near this creeper.

I'm not used to this kind of greeting but I kiss one cheek, then the other, mimicking what I've glimpsed other women do all night. If I can endure for a few more minutes, I'll excuse myself and go downstairs and find a cab. I'd tucked forty dollars in my purse tonight for this very reason. Will that even be enough to get back to the suburbs?

Maybe I should call Uber since it will come out of my mom's credit card. She'd then know I've been in South Beach, but whatever. I'll take the consequences and punishment just to get out of this situation.

"Juliette's a family friend of Griffin's."

"Lucky him," Paul murmurs, and my insides seize up. He's old enough to be my father, and I've never had a man this age flirt with me. Well, maybe at the diner, but I ignore them. This seems way different.

"Where's Griff?" Victoria downs her champagne and sets it on a nearby glass-topped rattan table.

Paul finishes his drink and waves the empty glass. "He's out, taking care of some business with Matt. He'll be back soon. Told me and Zoe to hold down the fort. Do you need something? She's here somewhere."

Matthew. That hulking guy from the club. What kind of business would they have on a Saturday night? And why would he not be at his own party?

Victoria shakes her head. "I'm good. Listen, I'll go get us drinks. Can you babysit, I mean, get to know Juliette while I do that?"

He nods and gives me another once-over with his squinty eyes, and I feel woozy.

"Juliette, drink up, I'm getting you another champagne." Victoria says this slowly, like I'm a toddler.

My face feeling hot from her jab, I smile politely at Paul. He returns the smile, only it doesn't feel as polite. It's a lusty look, and I focus on his short, brown hair and dark glasses. He looks like a middle-aged hipster, if there is such a thing.

"So when did you first meet Griffin?" His accent isn't like anything I've ever heard, but I assume it's because he's from Holland, and I've never met anyone from there. It's lilting and not unpleasant, but his voice is tinged with a little too much interest.

I shrug. "He and my brother were friends in high school."

"So you must have been, what? How old?"

"Nine? Ten?"

Paul chuckles. "And now you're all grown up. I have to hand it to Griffin, he's always surprising me with his choices. In everything he does."

My expression remains stone-faced. "I don't know what you mean."

"Well, he's always so, ah, innovative in his business. And now, with you..." He sweeps a finger in the direction of my body, curving it to mimic my shape.

I purse my lips. "I'm not...we're not..." My voice fades and I give up. I don't need to explain myself to this stranger. I take a step back.

"Well, whatever you are, I know one thing. You're beautiful."

I gape at him. This is not what I expected from tonight, and wish the floor would swallow me. "Um, thanks?"

"If Griffin doesn't mind, and you don't have plans, I'd love to take you to dinner while I'm here. Would you like that? Maybe the stone crab place here on the beach. It's wonderful. Have you been?"

I shake my head and finish my champagne in a single gulp. What are stone crabs, exactly? My mom once bought crabs at the supermarket and they were messy. As I'm trying to decide whether to speak or run away, Victoria returns, her hands filled with three flutes.

"Let's have a toast! Let's all give toasts. I'll start. To South Beach parties, because they're the bomb!"

We all clink and take a sip.

"Paul, go next." Victoria bats her eyelashes at him.

"To beautiful young women and new adventures in Miami. The city that never disappoints."

A pulse of pure fear goes through me. What am I doing here with these people? We touch glasses again and take a sip.

"Your turn, Juliette. Give a toast."

My mind goes blank. I've never given a toast before and have no idea what to say. "To new friends," I murmur, the end of my sentence rising as if I'm asking a question.

Both Victoria and Paul beam at me, and something about their smiles makes me nervous.

____