A killer after-party you won’t want to miss…

one

I WAS not prepared for a house this swanky. As I stood outside on the wide, wraparound porch, I couldn’t help but gape at the glamorous dark paneling and white trim. Rentals—especially party rentals—usually came with shabby carpet and dripping refrigerators. Judging by the exterior, this Jersey Shore mansion was none of that. It was movie-level luxe, and I was staying here with my friends for an epic prom weekend.

“Yes!” I whispered.

My best friend, Aubrey, who had been standing shoulder to shoulder with me, opened the door without knocking. I stepped forward to catch the door before it closed behind her, the porch planks creaking in my wake. Crisp, cold landscaping lights shot up from behind the green bushes, illuminating the commanding white columns at the front of the three-story house.

“Kylie, you coming?” Aubrey had both hands wrapped around the crossbody strap of her overnight bag, like her clothes were about to make a break for the beach.

I shrugged my considerably lighter bag higher on my shoulder and walked inside. “This place is ridiculous.”

“Right?” Even in the low light of the huge foyer, I could see that Aubrey was beaming. Her auburn hair was pulled tight into a perfect ballerina bun, but she sauntered toward the living room with the grace of a newborn giraffe.

“Watch the—”

The tip of her shoe snagged on the rug, and she pitched forward. The sofa caught her before I could.

“Rug?” Her laugh was clear and high. Nothing was going to ruin this weekend for her.

I needed to get in the same mindset, even if this plush furniture and the wildly ornate candlesticks sitting on the mantel above an oversized fireplace made me feel even more out of place. My house had a standard stoop, not this wraparound porch fanciness.

“Who rents out a party house and leaves so much breakable stuff?” Overly trusting adults, I guessed.

Aubrey shrugged. “People who have money to burn.”

“People ready to make a quick ten grand off seniors.” Aubrey’s boyfriend, Cam, sauntered into the house behind me. He let out a low whistle at the interior.

“You mean like ten thousand dollars?” Even saying that number aloud made my throat squeeze.

“Wait, so Kylie didn’t front the cash?” Cam didn’t bother disguising his sneer. He’d buzzed his hair a couple weeks ago, and it somehow made him look meaner.

Aubrey planted a fist on her hip. “Don’t be a dick.”

“What? I’m kidding.” He rolled his head from side to side, like he was preparing for a fight. “Kylie, the house is covered. Don’t freak.”

“That’s not an apology,” Aubrey muttered.

This was supposed to be our first weekend of freedom. But within seconds of stepping inside this incredible party house, Cam and Aubrey were already sniping at each other.

“Babe.”

“Don’t babe me.”

He shuffled closer to her. His shoes screeched against the hardwood floor. “Let it go, Aub. You wanted to do this.”