"I'll come with you," I tell him. I don't want to say I don't want to be left alone, but I'm starting to get freaked out. Orlando Bloom just winked at me. And, yes, I've met Rihanna, who is standing two feet away, but we've never said more than three words to each other. What would we talk about?

"I guess so," Matty says, but his face tells a different story. "It's just that if you come over, all anyone will want to talk about is you and Family Affair ending. If I go alone, I won't be Kaitlin Burke's little brother, you know?" His eyes plead with me.

I know.

"You go," I reassure him. "I'll mingle and we can meet up when you're done."

Matt kisses my check. "I won't be more than ten minutes."

Forty-five minutes later, I've met Shakira, had chicken skewers with Kelly Clarkson, and begged Hayden Panettiere to give me the scoop on what's going to happen on Heroes. I haven't seen Sky yet, who was invited to the after-party ("I didn't want to go to their dinner anyway. Who wants to eat in front of other people?" she told me), but that doesn't mean she's not here. This tent is packed and it's so dark in here, I can barely see past the next Cream-of-Wheat-colored sofa. The room is softly lit and really pretty. The tent's walls are made up of two layers of jute that have lighting in between them. Two-foot-long triangles are suspended from the ceiling high above the sofas and ottomans sitting on the bamboo-covered floor.

I glance at the crowded table where Matty is holding court and stare at it longingly. If I thought I felt lonely before, now I feel ten times worse. If things were different, Austin would be on my arm or Liz would be standing next to me.

Liz and I would have had the best time daring each other to approach Pam Anderson or Bono. She'd be the one telling me to ignore all the people talking about Family Affair's ending and just focus on tonight. We would have cooed over everyone's dresses and worried whether we'd been photographed eating. Suddenly, I really miss my best friend. This is silly. So we had a little spat. We've been friends forever! I'm going to call her.

I make my way through the crowd to the bathrooms and move to a quiet(er) corner outside the entrance. The line is long, but I don't think anyone is paying attention to my call. I dial Liz's number. She picks up on the second ring.

"Hello?" The phone is full of static and I can't tell if it's my connection or hers.

"Liz, it's me," I tell her. "Listen, I'm at the Vanity Fair party and you'll never guess who I just met." The static is getting louder. "I really wish ..."

"Can't. Hear." Liz's words are all jumbled and she hangs up.

". . . you were here," I finish the sentence out loud to myself and wait for her to call me back. I'm sure my number came up on her caller ID so she knows it was me. If she's out of range she'll just find someplace with good reception to call me from. She knows where I am tonight so I'm sure she'll call me back. Suddenly I wish I could call Austin but he's in the middle of his scrimmage. I'd give anything to hear his voice right now; I miss him so much. But instead I wait for Liz to call me. And I wait. And wait.