We arrive at Babylon shortly before eleven-thirty, hoping we aren't too early. Our problem could be just the opposite, though. Allison lets out a strangled groan when she sees hundreds of people waiting in line.

The queue snakes down the block, almost to the corner. The scent of cigars, coconut perfume and the ocean salt hang heavy in the air, giving the place the feel of vacation and anticipation. Babylon is one of South Beach's most popular clubs, located about a block from Ocean Drive on a seedier strip of the island.

"Look, he's letting people in." Allison glares at the burly guys at the door. There's a proverbial red velvet rope stretched across the entrance. "And, look, there are other doormen walking the line to pick people out and let them in. Stick out your chest, Juliette."

I stifle a laugh as the stern-looking doorman strolls past us without a glance. After fifteen minutes pass, it's unclear why we aren't being singled out. Allison looks hot in her blue dress and her messy updo and I'm passable tonight, too. Perhaps it's because we're with Allison's boyfriend. It seems like the doorman and the bouncers want to let only girls inside.

"Maybe you guys should make out or something to get his attention," says Lucas.

I roll my eyes. "If I'm going to kiss Allison, it's for the sheer pleasure of it and not so you and the bouncer can get your rocks off."

Allison laughs and presses her shoulder into mine.

The street we're standing on is kind of dingy. It gets that way just a block or so off Ocean Drive. On this part of the beach, it's a mix of clubs, tattoo parlors and kitschy tourist souvenir shops. Still, it's good people watching. South Beach is so much more interesting and exciting than where we live in the suburbs.

Here, there are people of all races, all colors, all ages. People like us who are young and dressed up and want to have the best night of their lives. Older people who are out for a late stroll, tourist families toting sleepy little kids. I love watching them all. To pass the time, I make up stories in my mind about everyone.

I do this all the time, daydream. It's annoyed my teachers and my mother for years, but this is what I do, especially when I'm nervous. It's like I check out of reality and slip into my own fantasy world.

"Juliet," hisses Allison. "Juliet! Look."

I'm staring at a sweet elderly couple, concocting a story about how it's their second marriage, and how he proposed at a Bingo game. Or maybe it was at a senior swimming class. I scan the street, unable to figure out what Allison's talking about.

"I don't see anything. What?"

"Isn't that the girl who used to hang around with your brother?"

I squint in the direction of her eyes. Maybe Allison needs glasses because all I see are dozens of girls who look like us, girls in little dresses and high heels and sleek, straight hair. Well, my hair's not so sleek or straight, but that's because I can't afford a professional blowout and had to use Allison's flat iron.

"Um, not sure. Where?"

"Coming toward us. A little to your left."

I glance over to see a tall, thin and stunning redheaded in a silver dress that's so small and tight that I wonder if it's actually some sort of new swim dress. She's flanked by three girls, all wearing slips of dresses, and all looking like well-groomed coltish models. They're probably a few years older than Allison and me, or at least they have the appearance of being far more sophisticated.

I lean into Allison. "I think her name's Victoria. She went to school with Ash."

The two of us watch her and her entourage as they glide toward us, laughing and talking over the chatter of the crowd. Allison and I sound like girls when we laugh—sometimes we even snort—but their laughter sounds sparkly, as if champagne runs through their veins.

As she passes by me without a glance, Victoria tosses her long red hair over her shoulders and turns to her friends. "Next weekend's going to be so fucking awesome at Griffin's house. He gives the best parties."

If I was daydreaming before, I'm hyper-aware now. Victoria is talking about Griffin.

The guy at the diner yesterday. The guy who used to be friends with my brother. The beautiful creature who gave me a two-hundred-seventy-five dollar tip. My Griffin. Which is ridiculous as a thought, never mind reality.

Just hearing his name sends little chills of pleasure down my spine.. I'd gone home after my shift at the diner and looked through old photo albums of him and my brother as teens. He'd been handsome back then, too. Skinnier and innocent-looking. And his ears stuck out even more.

Hearing Victoria say his name also makes me feel something else. A foreign and unfamiliar emotion. Maybe it's jealousy. But how can I be jealous of a man I don't really know, probably won't ever see again, and most importantly, a man who would never, ever, look at me as girlfriend material?

I watch Victoria as she hugs the doorman and gives all of the bouncers big, exaggerated kisses. She seems so familiar with everybody, as if she belongs here. Of course the bouncers unclip the velvet rope and let her and her friends inside with no questions asked. She probably doesn't pay a cover charge, here or anywhere she goes.

Allison sighs. "Must be nice."

"Whatever. She didn't go in the VIP entrance. Anyway, someday that'll be us." Maybe when I move out of my mom's apartment. Maybe when I finish college. Maybe when—or if—I ever get a real job. Will I ever have the time or the money to buy beautiful dresses and get my hair straightened in a salon? Thinking about that only depresses me, because it seems like before I know it, I'll be an adult and life will be over.

When will I ever be as carefree as Victoria looked just now?

"I hope this line moves. I'm going to be exhausted by the time we get in there." Allison whines. She's in a mood tonight.

As we wait for what seems like hours, I shift from foot to foot in my uncomfortable black heels. If I could only sit for a little bit...but I know once we're inside, I'll forget about my feet and want to dance. Already, I can hear the strains of the bass thumping inside the club.

I'm so bored waiting that I take out my phone and play Words With Friends. Allison nudges me again, this time with her elbow.

"Ow, that hurt." I don't look up from my phone.

"Look at that fucking car. It's like a half-million dollar Porsche," says Lucas. "Juliette, you gotta see this."

Annoyed because I'm winning my game after playing a six-letter word, I look up.

"You're going to buy one of those someday," Allison purrs and nuzzles Lucas's cheek.

I roll my eyes. We're at the part of the night where they're bored and start to make out. It always makes me feel awkward and excluded when they do this.

"Yeah, right. In my dreams. Just look at that thing."

It looks like every other silver sports car. Flashy. Sleek. Expensive. Cars don't mean a lot to me, although I know mine is on its last legs. I don't dare drive it anywhere but school and the diner because at least if it breaks down, I can walk home without too much trouble.

Still, I know this machine is superior to almost every other car. And it looks oddly familiar, but I can't place why. It's pulled up next to the curb, right in front of the club. This is common for clubs on the beach, to park the VIPs' fancy cars out front, as if to say hello, poor people, to the unwashed masses standing in line.

I'm about to return to my word game when I see a tall figure slip out of the Porsche.

"Oh my God," I whisper.

"What?" Allison asks.

"I know that guy."

Lucas shoots me a confused look. "Shut up. You do not."

"Yeah. I do." My heart slams against my chest. "That's the guy who gave me the huge tip yesterday."

"Holy shit. That's the guy? How did I miss him at the diner?" Allison's eyes are as large as saucers.

"I don't know how you could miss him. But I know him. That's Griffin Davis. He used to hang out with my brother. Years ago, he was my brother's best friend."

"What does he do now to drive a car like that?" Lucas asks.

"Obviously he's not protesting on behalf of whales and shit like your brother," says Allison.

I snort. "Obviously not." If it weren't for my mother, my brother would be homeless and starving.

"Did Ash ever make any money with that environmental advocacy job?"

I ignore her question, because I'm busy watching Griffin. If Victoria looked like she belonged at the club, Griffin looks like he owns it. Valets cluster around him and the car, and he hands out cash openly, clapping each of them on the shoulder with graceful, chummy gestures.

He's even more breathtaking tonight than when I'd seen him yesterday. It's like spotting an endangered predator species in the wild. I drink in his tousled hair, his dark jeans and his obviously tailored blazer. Tonight he has stubble on his jaw, which makes him look older. And more dangerous.

One of the doormen slips past us and hurries to the curb, to the car. Griffin's clearly a regular here and with a sinking disappointment, I suspect he's going to meet up with Victoria. A heavy feeling settles in my stomach at the thought, which is ridiculous.

As the doorman gestures toward the side of the building to the VIP entrance—I know there's such a thing, I'd read about it on a gossip blog—Griffin turns to look at the line.

And his eyes land on me.

I inhale sharply and freeze. Briefly, I wonder if he's staring at someone else, but no, it's clear that I'm the object of his attention. Lucas and Allison whisper at me in tandem but I can't hear them over the whooshing sound in my ears.

And then, Griffin walks toward me. I can't stop staring at him, and it's as if I'm pinned to the ground.

His long legs eat up the distance between us. Time seems to stop as he stands in front of me. Even though I'm in heels, he's way taller. I look up and swallow.

"We meet again," he says with a big grin.

I giggle, and out the corner of my eye, I see Allison gaping at me, probably because I never giggle.

"Hi," I say softly.

"You here with someone?"

I point to my left. "My friend Allison and her boyfriend. Allison works with me at the diner and we go to school together at Kendall High." I focus on a gray piece of chewing gum on the sidewalk and feel my face get hot. Why don't I give him a rundown of her grades, where she lives and what she eats in the cafeteria, too?

"All of you, come with me." He takes my hand without asking and tingles shoot up my arm. As I follow him, past the line, I see the envious stares of dozens of women. I glance back at Allison.

"Holy shit," she mouths to me.

The bouncer leads our group to an unmarked door. He raps on it twice and it magically opens. Griffin doesn't let go of my hand as we walk inside. Instead, he threads his fingers through mine and squeezes. My breathing quickens as my eyes adjust to the darkness.

We're in a hallway, and I can see the dance floor through a door. The music's loud, the club's bathed in a deep blue light, and a mass of bodies moves to the thumping beat.

Griffin points down the hallway and we follow the bouncer up a short staircase. The walls, floor and ceiling are painted black, and everything's coated in a violet light. Once up the stairs, we're in another hallway, only each door leads to a skybox of sorts, set above the dance floor and illuminated with strips of light.

Why is he still holding my hand?

With a gesture, the bouncer ushers us into the private area. This particular one is empty, although other boxes are seem to be filled with people. It has a long, gold sofa on one end, and what looks like a minibar on the other.

Griffin lets go of me and puts his hand on the small of my back, guiding me to the front, where the box overlooks the dance floor. He points and put his mouth to my ear. His lips don't touch my skin, but he's close enough so I can feel the warmth of his body and his breath. I shiver a little when I feel the whisper of his words.

"There's the DJ down there. See? He's a friend."

I look down. The DJ is across from us, on a platform but still lower than our box. Apparently we have the best vantage point for observing not only the DJ, but the entire club. Between the flashing white lights slicing through the blue glow, the loud music and the exclusive setting, my head spins. A carnival of debauchery is below, writhing and gyrating.

Allison and Lucas lean over the skybox railing. They grin and point and wave as if we're on the deck of a cruise ship sailing away to a far-off island.

Griffin turns, and as if on cue, a waitress clad in a black velvet bodysuit and black heels appears.

"We'd like two bottles of Veuve. Four glasses please." He turns to me and lays a gentle hand on my upper arm. "Do you like champagne? Or would you prefer something else?"

"Champagne's fine," I squeak as he runs his hand down my arm. Normally I don't drink. Haven't since one awful evening freshman year with a bottle of peach schnapps that Allison and I snagged from her mom. I guess it won't hurt to have a small glass of champagne tonight.

Allison and Lucas are dancing now, swaying to the music, in each other's arms. As usual, they're in their own little world. I glance over at Griffin. It's kind of surprising that he's so attentive. I'm not sure what to make of this this, and I'm thankful the music's loud enough to prohibit any in-depth conversation.

The waitress returns, and pops open the champagne. With a flourish, she pours it into four flutes and nestles the bottle into a tall bucket of ice. I smile accept a glass with all of the grace I can muster. As if this is something I do all the time.

Lucas and Allison are already tossing back their champagne, and Griffin faces me. He leans into my ear again and a wave of pure desire surges through me.

"To tonight," he murmurs.

Another wave of washes over me, pulling me under. In that moment, it's like I'm drowning in the reality of it all. Finally, I'm on the edge of everything I've ever wanted, and am about to plunge headlong into the most exciting scene on earth.

____