The champagne makes me feel fuzzy and dizzy.

I repeat the two words in my mind. Fuzzy. Dizzy. Zzzz...

I'm on my third glass and Victoria, Paul and I have moved to one of the lounge sofas on the deck. I'm squashed between the sofa arm and Paul. He's in the middle, telling us a story about a music festival he went to in Ibiza. I'm zoning out and studying the other people at the party, wondering what they do for a living. Because everyone seems to be incredibly well-dressed in a casual, yet expensive, way.

I even spot a woman wearing a red silk dress that was identical to one I'd seen in Vogue last month. It's like seeing a rare orchid in the wild: beautiful and elusive and probably never to happen again.

Now Paul's talking about Ultra Music Festival in Miami. I've always wanted to go but have never gotten the chance. When it was here last month, I had to work at the diner. Maybe next year.

"The VIP has elevated platforms, air conditioned bathrooms, food, endless drinks." Paul shifts to give me a little more room and I'm praying that he's flirting with Victoria since I've all but shut down, lost in my thoughts about Griffin's whereabouts.

"And a separate entrance. Much more comfortable than being with the unwashed masses." He chuckles. Victoria is listening with rapt attention and repeating "oh my God!" every three seconds.

Paul pours more champagne and I hold up the glass, staring at the bubbles in the low light of the terrace before I take another sip.

"We've killed another bottle of Dom Perignon, girls. Good job."

Victoria giggles. This champagne isn't as good as what I had with Griffin at Babylon. Or was it better simply because I shared it with him?

Where is he, anyway?

I've almost made peace with the fact that I need to pass a half hour or so with Skeevy Paul in exchange for seeing Griffin. It will all be worth it. I think about how he'll take me into his room and look at me with those beautiful, kind eyes. He'll sit me down and listen to me. Really listen, like when we were eating dinner together. He'll laugh when I tell him that I was a little intimidated when I walked in, and put his arm around my waist and introduce me to everyone.

Yeah, right.

"You know, the festival in Ibiza happens in July. I could fly you two girls to meet me there. How would you girls like that? First class, all accommodations paid?"

Victoria squeals and kisses him on the cheek. "Julie, can you believe this?"

She keeps calling me Julie, which I hate.

"I can't believe it." I drink the last of my champagne.

"Do you think your mom will let you go?" Victoria smirks and Paul chuckles.

I don't think I've ever hated anyone before now, but here I am. I roll my eyes. "Maybe."

Paul puts his hand on my bare leg and I can feel his sweaty palm. This is too far. Even the prospect of seeing Griffin isn't worth putting myself through this. I have some dignity.

"There's nothing more that I'd like than to introduce my little Juliette to the joys of Ibiza. A little champagne, a little E, a lot of good music?"

His little Juliette? What the hell? I squirm and try to wrench my leg from his hand. "E?"

Paul chuckles and exchanges a glance with Victoria as he strokes my knee. "You are delightful. Simply a breath of fresh air among all this..." he waves his other hand, "cynicism. Isn't that right, Victoria?"

"She is a treasure." Victoria smirks.

I scowl and try to wiggle out of his grip because my skin feels like a thousand spiders are crawling over it.

"E. Ecstasy. Well, that's what old people like me still call it sometimes. Vitamin E. Beans. Happy pills."

I blink. I've never done drugs of any sort.

"Molly," Victoria says in a snotty tone.

"Ohh. Right." I try to sound like I'm totally aware of what that is. I've read about it in articles on South Beach and the EDM scene, but don't know anyone who actually does it, or any other drug. I've never even smoked pot.

"She can't really be that innocent, can she? I mean, not if she's friends with Griff?" Paul's talking to Victoria, who puts a finger against her lips, as if to shush him.

What the hell? He gives my leg a squeeze then lets me go. That's my cue to jump up. I wobble on my heels and Paul grabs for my hand but I take a step back.

"Steady, Juliette. Where are you going?" Paul looks at my body.

"Bathroom."

I don't wait for their response and walk inside, concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other, hoping I won't fall, setting my empty champagne flute on a table. It's clear that I don't belong here, don't want to be here, and need to get out fast.

The bathroom in the hallway's locked, and I not only want privacy, but I really have to go. Bad. I recall the big bathroom in Griffin's room. Looking around and seeing no one in the hall, I slip into his bedroom and let out a breath.

No one's in here, and I practically run across the room. It, too, is locked. I swear under my breath.

"Just a minute," a female voice calls out. Male laughter rumbles low from behind the door.

My heart starts to pound. What if Griffin's in there with a woman? I cross my legs and nearly fall over. Stupid heels. Stupid champagne. I stare at the wall as the doorknob rattles.

"Oh, sorry." It's a tall woman and a guy with dark hair...but not Griffin. They're both sniffing loudly. They pause to look at me, as if I'm a zoo animal.

"Sorry," I respond.

"You want a bump?" The guy jerks his thumb at the bathroom.

I shake my head and slip past him into the bathroom, locking the door. I'm not sure what he meant by 'bump,' but I'm guessing it's something to do with drugs. I kick off my heels, almost tumbling over as I balance on one leg, then the other. Ahh. My feet feel so much better.

As I pee in the most expensive-looking toilet I've ever seen, I'm on the verge of tears.

This was a stupid idea. And what's even more idiotic: I have a huge crush on a man who lives a crazy lifestyle. Does Griffin do drugs like these other people? He seems so normal and together. He's obviously also successful, so how does he do drugs and maintain his career?

Maybe Allison was right. Maybe Griffin is involved with something shady.

I wobble while sitting on the toilet seat and tear up a little. The room seems to be shifting, and it dawns on me that I'm a little drunk. I wipe, flush and stand up. Blow my nose. Dry my eyes. I want to go home, and pull my phone out of my purse. There's a text from Allison.

How's it going? You haven't checked in and I'm worried. I'll give you a half hour and then I'm calling the cops.

R u drunk?

I look down at my bare feet. The pedicure I'd gotten this afternoon looks amazing.

As I'm swiping on my phone to summon an Uber, there's a loud rap on the door.

Crap.

Figuring I'll go on the street and wait for the ride from there, I pad to the door, my feet sinking into a thick and fluffy white bathmat. I swing open the door. A woman with tawny eyes and short dark hair is standing there, staring at me. She's tall and a streak of red hair stands out against the black.

"Sorry," I say.

She walks straight toward me, forcing me to step back. She's shorter than me, wearing a black tank and black jeans. This woman is lithe and tough and I don't quite dare to make a break for it. She shuts the door and locks it.

"Juliette, right?"

I back up against the marble sink and nod. She leans against the wall casually and studies me. Her eyes flicker to my black shoes lying on the floor and I'm about to pick them up when her voice cuts through the silence.

"You look like him."

I straighten my spine and feel suddenly sober. "Hunh? Who?"

"Ashton."

I look around, wondering what's going on and why everyone but me seems to know. "How do you know my brother?"

"You don't remember me?"

And then it clicks. Maybe it's the way she said it — just like Griffin had that afternoon in the diner — that my memory is jogged. A moment of her eating dinner with us pops into my head. "You're Zoe. Griffin's sister. My brother's friend."

"His ex-friend." She reaches into her back pocket and extracts a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. "What's he doing these days?"

"Uh..." This is so weird. "He's working with a social justice coalition and has been going to D.C. a lot to protest. And organize. He's always organizing something."

She lights a cigarette, takes a drag, then turns her head away from me, exhaling a stream of smoke towards the closed door. "Why are you crying?"

I frown. "I'm not crying. Why are you asking so many questions?"

"Because I'm wondering why you came when my brother expressly told you not to."

This might be the most awkward moment of my life. I stammer and she cuts me off.

"How's Ash doing?"

"I'm sorry, Victoria invited me and I thought I'd like to see Griffin, and I guess I was wrong. Look, I've got to go. I'll tell my brother you said hello."

Of course I'll tell him nothing about this night, but I want to say something polite and flee. My hand is on the bathroom door when she squeezes my shoulder. A zing of fear runs down my spine and I turn to look into her eyes, which are the same color as Griffin's.

"Juliette. I'm sorry to have been harsh with you. I just don't want you to get the wrong impression about Griffin. He's a great guy, but I think you're too young for him. Too naïve. For your own good, please stay away from him. I guess I was stern with you in hopes of scaring you. And look, please don't say anything about me to your brother. I don't want to open old wounds. Because I still haven't healed from that time in my life, I don't think. Maybe it wasn't that important to him, those years, but they were to me."

She releases me and I blink twice, trying to take it all in. Then I leave, walking fast in my bare feet. I realize that I've left my shoes in the bathroom but I'm too embarrassed, too drunk, and too over this whole night to backtrack to the bathroom to pick them up. I flit past the rail-thin women and the men who look like models, past the modern, steel sculpture I didn't notice before and a giant bouquet of white flowers. I punch the elevator and mercifully, it opens right away.

I step inside and release my breath as the doors close. I wiggle my toes. What was all of that? My heart jackhammers in my chest and I'm out of breath as I stand in the lobby and tap on my phone for an Uber. It's only a few minutes away, and I check my messages to avoid the concierge's hard stare at my bare feet.

"Lost my shoes," I say, walking outside.

I'm too stunned to cry. Too baffled to text Allison and tell her. What would I say?

I look up and the ride is here. I slide into the backseat, slamming the door with a little too much force. Still, driver's probably seen way stranger things on South Beach than a barefoot chubby girl in a black dress,.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to shut the door that hard." The driver's a woman, and my muscles instantly relax.

"It's okay, honey. You going to Kendall, right?"

In the dim light, I spot the woman looking at me in the rear-view mirror. Her eyes are curious, and crinkly.

"Yes, that's right."

"Been a long night, honey?"

"It sure has." I sniffle.

She makes tsk-tsk noise. "And it's only ten p.m. Well, let's get you out of here."

"Thank you." I groan out loud and lean my temple to the cool glass of the window.

"Everything okay?"

"My shoes. It was probably a stupid idea to leave them up there."

"I'll wait if you want to go get them."

The thought of going back upstairs and facing any of the people in that condo is too humiliating. "No, that's okay. I'll survive."

The driver turns up the stereo. Some unfamiliar jazz is playing, all slow and melancholy. Matching my mood. Zoe's right. My brother's right. I have no place in Griffin's flashy world. I inhale a shallow breath, then another, willing myself not to cry.

As the driver pulls out of the condo's circular driveway, I spot a hulking, black SUV coming in the other direction, headed toward the valet.

With Griffin in the passenger seat.

I gasp and lean forward, touching the driver's bare arm.

"Wait."

____