I couldn’t afford to let that hurt. “I can see why,” I said instead, letting my head fall back and taking in the wide expanse of sky above.

“That’s King’s Island.” Lily gestured to the small blot of land we’d passed on the way in. “No one’s lived there for years.”

“King’s Island,” I repeated. “On Regal Lake.” You would have thought that this was the Hamptons, not a man-made body of water in a region of the state known for its red dirt and surplus of deer. “Looks to me like this is a place where we won’t be overheard.”

“I’ll tell you everything I know,” Lily promised. “Just let me turn around so we can face each other. When I go left, you go right. We should be able to keep our balance if—”

Feeling wicked, I hooked an arm around her waist and leaned hard to the left, taking us both over the side and into the lake. Lily might have swallowed a bit of water. She definitely snorted in a most unladylike manner.

“Sawyer!” She began paddling toward the Jet Ski, which had floated several yards away when we’d gone in.

“What?” I said, feeling more like myself than I had in hours. “The sun is high, and the water feels good. Now talk.”

“There’s not that much to tell,” Lily warned me. “Until I saw the boxes sitting on our beds, I wasn’t one hundred percent certain the White Gloves actually existed.”

“A suburban legend?” I quipped. Before Lily could offer a retort, I processed the rest of what she’d said. “Our invitations were inside the house when you arrived?”

“And all of the doors were locked.”

Now she’d piqued my interest. “What exactly does the rumor mill say about the White Gloves?”

“That they’re a secret society. That they recruit freshmen at State, U-of, and a handful of private colleges in a three-state region. Female-only, very exclusive.”

In the world Lily had grown up in, exclusive meant wealthy. It meant old money, power, and status, having the luxury never to talk—or even think—about money at all.

“We should go tonight,” Lily said. “Right?” She laid her arms on the back edge of the Jet Ski and rested her chin on her wrist. “I know where The Big Bang is. We could tell Mama we’re sleeping over with Sadie-Grace. Lord knows Sadie-Grace’s daddy won’t know the difference.”

“Who are you,” I deadpanned, “and what have you done with Lily Taft Easterling?”

“I’ve done everything that’s expected of me, Sawyer. My whole life, I’ve dotted i’s and crossed t’s. I followed the rules. I was everything I was supposed to be, right up until I started Secrets.”