Something about the way I’m both covered and revealed at the same time makes me feel powerful, and even staring at myself in the mirror I can’t help but pull my shoulders back and stand a little straighter. This dress makes me feel like a fighter, not the weak mouse I’ve been since I ran away.

Adding salt spray to my hair, I tease it into tousled mermaid waves, slide my feet into strappy black sandals —another one of Sebastian’s purchases—and add another coat of mascara to my smoky-eye makeup. Sliding a tube of gloss, my cell phone and key card into a tiny gold purse that has a strap so it hangs from my wrist, I blow myself a kiss in the mirror and head for the door.

If even a tiny part of Sebastian still thinks of me as his, then seeing me in this dress and knowing I’m going to a party without him will push him over the edge. If it doesn’t… then, well, I’m not sure what I’ll do, probably pack up and leave, because even though I shouldn’t, now I don’t have his attention, his eyes, his brand of crazy focused on me, I want it. Fluffing my hair one last time, I pull in a deep breath and then march down the stairs, pushing open my door and striding out onto the landing like I’m in Dynasty and in the middle of a slow-mo entrance scene.

“Hey Starling, are you expecting someone, because there’s a chick at the door asking for you,” Clay shouts up the stairs, loud enough for the entire house to hear.

“Yes, let her in and keep your hands to yourself, she’s my friend and off-limits to you guys,” I shout back.

With my hand on the banister to steady myself in my heels I descend the stairs and stride confidently into the foyer where Sammy is standing with all four guys looming around her.

“Starling,” she cries, her lips splitting into a wide grin when she sees me.

“Hey, Sammy, do you want to grab a drink here first, or just head straight over to the party?” I ask, ignoring the incredulous looks I’m getting from all but one of my housemates.

“You’re going to a party?” Evan asks slowly, like he thinks he misheard me or something.

“Yep,” I nod, grabbing Sammy’s arm and dragging her away from the guys and into the kitchen. Opening the refrigerator door, I pull out a couple of wine coolers and pass one to her. “You look amazing,” I tell her, taking in her tight leopard-print miniskirt and simple tight black cami, tucked in to show off her impressive breasts and flat stomach. It’s a hell of a change from her usual preppy style, but I love it.

“Thanks. My parents prefer me to wear conservative clothes, but I’ve managed to do a little college shopping online since I got here. You look unbelievable by the way, I’m totally straight, but you in that dress is kind of making me question it.”