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“What makes you thinkanyone’sdropping by my room after hours?” I ask as my face is blushed and contoured and highlighted. I keep my tone playful, as if there were even a snowball’s chance in hell that I might have a gentleman caller, but at this point, there’s no one I can even imagine getting with, especially at Rumson.

Though Archie and I sure would have a great meet-cute to share with our kids.

“Oh, come on.” Jenna points a coal-black eye pencil in my direction. “You have your own room, you don’t have tohead back after curfew, and you live below a guy who keeps a rope ladder swinging from his window to yours at all times. Don’t tell me you’re staying squeaky clean. We’re meeting up with Matt and the other guys in half an hour, and he’s going to tell us whether you’ve been naughty or nice.”

The other girls look at me knowingly and I don’t even know what to say. I haven’t stayedentirelysqueaky clean, but they sound seductive and worldly when they talk about guys, and I’m… not that. But if I do tell them I made out with someone, they might try prying for who, and that isnotsomething I’ll be sharing.

Is it better if they think I’m a boring prude who can’t even get a guy when she’s constantly surrounded by them, though?

“You know what you need?” Isabel asks, spritzing the inside of her wrist and lifting it to her nose. “Bellas.”

“Bellas!” Priya and Ashleigh cheer.

“What are Bellas?” Why am I always the last to know everything?

“Come on,” Jenna says authoritatively, and everyone puts back the makeup they were holding. I try to get up to join them, but she stops me. “Wait. First, you need to get that eyeliner.”

I’m about to argue—I’m already seriously overdoing the spending today, and my parents are going to kill me when they see the bill I’ve rung up on my “emergency” credit card—when I realize that buying one of the items used in my makeover is a requirement. Crap. Another twenty bucks I don’t really have.

“Gimme,” Isabel says, holding out her hand. “I’ll throw it in with my stuff.”

She says it so casually I can’t bring myself to argue, and less than five minutes later, I’m the proud owner of a fancy new eyeliner and on my way to find out exactly what “Bellas” are.

I’ve learned so many things today, like how to contour my face, how to extend the life of a blowout, and how much designer underwear can cost. (Turns out “Bellas” are an obscenely expensive brand of underwear, the official brand of the Camden Hot Girl Clique.) And right now in the food court, I’m learning how many soft pretzels Matt Haley can stuff in his face, which is, frankly, too many.

“I can’t get used to you with straight hair.” Matt cocks his head as he polishes off the last of what must be his third. “Feels wrong.”

“What hemeansto say,” Isabel says with an elbow to his side, “is that you look nice, and it’s fun to try new things.”

Cool, now I’m feeling even more self-conscious. I’m searching for something, anything, to change the conversation away from my appearance, but thankfully, Landon promptly does just that. “You look nice too, baby,” he says to Ashleigh, nuzzling her soft curls, which he can easily access because she’s perched on his lap. “You should wear your hair like this every day.”

“I do wear my hair like this every day,” she says, grinning while everyone else makes retching motions. Itisa little nauseating how perfect they are, like it’s too much to even aspireto. He looks like he should be in a sneaker ad, dark skin glistening with sweat while he artfully skyrockets to the hoop.

“So, Matt, how’s the new roster?” Priya asks gleefully, tweaking the straw in her smoothie.

Isabel rolls her eyes. “She doesn’t mean basketball, in case you couldn’t crack that code.”

“Don’t worry, I always know where Priya’s head’s at,” Matt says with a wink, and I immediately have a feeling I know whose designer wardrobe will flash by as it scales the rope ladder tonight. “So far, the ‘one girl per dorm’ quest is moving alongverysmoothly.”

I know what Jenna’s gonna say before the twinkle in her eye and smug tilt to her smile even herald it. “Does that include Rumson?”

Heat rises in my cheeks at everyone’s smothered laughter, but Matt takes it in stride. “Would you believe the one girl in Rumson has been totally resistant to my charms so far? It’s like she doesn’t even know who I am.”

God, he really might be my new best friend. “Or maybe it’s like she knows exactly who you are,” I say sweetly, dragging a spoon through my frozen yogurt.

Now everyone laughs for real while Matt puts on a pout, and I take a bite of my melting vanilla with rainbow sprinkles.

“You know, Evie won’t tell us a thing about living there,” Isabel tells him. “We might need to pay a visit to see for ourselves.”

Oh good, just what I need—for these ridiculously well-put-together people to see my weird prison-cell-like room.

And then suddenly, the perfect idea for both recoupingthe money I didn’t actually have to spend today and bringing everyone to Rumson without making my room the centerpiece of the visit comes to mind.

“You should. Matt’s a great host, and I was just thinking that we haven’t had a decent poker night yet.”

“Ooh, poker party sounds like fun,” says Matt, flashing a wicked grin as his waggles his eyebrows at Isabel. “Remember that game—”

Isabel cuts him off immediately. “I don’t think the girl meant strip poker, Matty.”