When I arrived at Gabe’s house, I expected to see people passed out on the front lawn or doing obscene things to his gate, but no one was outside. The house was brightly lit and I could see people inside, but so far it looked like every other party I’d ever been to.

My heart was thumping against my ribs as I walked toward the house. I could hear laughter and chatter as I approached. I felt so unbelievably awkward—not knowing if I should knock or just open the door. Was this something other people worried about or was I just extremely high-strung? In the end, I did a combination of both, I rapped my knuckles on the door as I pushed it open.

I expected no one to notice my arrival, or if they did, it would be nothing more than confused looks from beautiful people wondering why this normal person had been allowed to be in their presence. I expected to mostly be ignored.

Instead, a dozen heads swiveled in my direction and to my great surprise—and relief—I recognized one of them.

“You’re here!” Ollie approached me with open arms, sweeping me into a hug.

“Hi,” I said.

“Gabe said he invited you,” he said, looping his arm through mine. “I’m glad you came.”

“Thanks,” I said.

“Let’s get you a drink.” He steered me into the kitchen, introducing me to people as we went. “Chani, this is Margot. She’s a fabulous clothing designer, based in New York. And Jessica writes for one of my favorite fashion blogs. Chani is a writer too. She’s doing a profile on our dear host.”

He said it like I was someone important. People looked at me with new interest.

I was overwhelmed with all the faces—some of which were very beautiful, but also many who were beautiful in a normal kind of way. It made me feel a little less out of place.

“What would you like?” Ollie asked, gesturing toward the bar. “Gabe is well-stocked on beer, but the cocktail selection is pretty minimal. Davis here could probably make you a martini if you’d like.” He indicated a tall, skinny guy leaning against the fridge.

“Or we could get you some of the stronger stuff,” Davis said. “It’s in the living room.”

I panicked.

“No thanks, I don’t do cocaine,” I quickly said.

Davis and Ollie looked at each other and then at me.

“I was talking about whisky,” Davis said. “Or tequila.”

Ollie laughed. “I don’t think Gabe has any cocaine,” he said to me gently.

I’d never felt like such an embarrassing idiot. Both naïve and overly jaded at the same time.

Thankfully, Ollie didn’t linger on my faux pas, and swept me through the rest of the house instead. I still hadn’t seen Gabe.

“Gabe said something about fun and games?” I asked tentatively.