Page 35 of The Charade

And because I had no idea what to expect from tonight, I might have packed a few different outfit options since I wasn't sure if the T-shirt and jeans I currently wore were fancy enough for a party at the Hastings's.

I was probably overthinking it but having grown up with a mom who taught me that the way we dress impacts the first impression we give to the world, I didn't want to give anyone the impression that I had no idea what the heck I was doing with all these rich kids.

My phone buzzed, interrupting my anxiety session. It was a text from Cambrielle.

Cambrielle:Nash wanted me to tell you that we’re about five minutes away. He says he'd come to the common room to get you, but since Bree Peterson gave him her cheek when he was trying to kiss her at the end of their date last night, he wants to avoid running into her.

A second text came through a second later.

Cambrielle:And now he's mad that I told you that because he wanted you to think he's this big time Casanova.

"What's so funny?" Elyse asked when I laughed out loud. She looked over my shoulder at the texts. Then after reading them, she laughed too and said, "Well, if our Spin-the-Bottle idea doesn't work tonight, we might at least be able to count on Nash for some action."

"True." I laughed. "Though I'm sure you'd rather make out with Mack." I winked.

When Elyse's cheeks darkened, I knew it was true.

I shot Cambrielle back a text saying that we'd meet them out front. With our backpacks full of everything we'd need to get ready for tonight's party, Elyse and I headed down to meet our ride.

Nash's lime-greenconvertible was waiting on the cobblestone drive at the front of the school when Elyse and I made it to the front steps.

Cambrielle climbed out of the passenger side once she saw us and said, "One of you can sit up front with Nash. He's annoyed at me for texting you about his kissing fail." Then with a smirk on her lips, she said, "Apparently, he's trying to impress the new girls." She shot Elyse and me a wink.

I gave Cambrielle a look that said,I've got this. Then I stepped closer to Nash's BMW and said, "Wow, this is an amazing car. Almost as awesome as the guy driving it. I totally call shotgun!"

"See, Cambrielle," Nash replied in a loud, overly exaggerated voice that I could imagine him using on the stage. "I told you the ladies are always fighting over me."

To which Cambrielle responded in an equally exaggerated tone, "Oh, yes, my dear brother. They’re practically fawning all over you. How ever will you make it through the party tonight with so many girls begging for your attention?"

Nash put a hand to his chest, and this time he slipped a British accent in as he said, "'Tis a hard job. But I'll do my best to rise to the occasion."

Okay, these two were a riot.

After the spur-of-the-moment theatrical production had ended, Cambrielle and Elyse slid into the backseat and I took the spot beside Nash up front.

It was a beautiful fall day, sunny and warm, as we drove to the other end of the small town. I'd never ridden in a convertible before but as we drove and the wind whipped at my hair, I was thankful that I'd decided to wait and curl it while getting ready with Cambrielle.

We pulled off the main road about fifteen minutes later. After driving down a long residential road where the houses just seemed to get bigger and bigger the farther down we got, we took a right turn onto a private drive lined with pleached linden trees.

When we came to a large, wrought-iron gate, Nash pushed a button on his car’s visor and the gate started opening.

I turned back to Elyse, wondering if she was as curious as I was about what we were about to see. She just looked back at me with wide eyes and mouthed the word,Wow.

Yeah, my thoughts exactly, sister.

The asphalt road we'd been driving on turned into a Belgian block driveway, and after another thirty seconds, we finally emerged from the tree-shrouded path until we reached the terrace of the biggest house I'd ever seen in my life.

"Here we are," Nash said, putting his car into park in front of a huge stone country house. "Home sweet home."

Home sweet home?

More like mansion sweet mansion.

I blinked a few times. The gigantic house was so tall and wide that I had to turn my head up and down and side to side to take it all in.

And as I looked at the beautiful gray stone exterior, the dozens of windows with white shutters, and the tall white columns of the portico, I couldn't help but think that wondering over whether tonight’s barbecue would be like a nineteenth-century ball might not have been too far off, because this was exactly the kind of house that belonged in a Jane Austen novel.

Nash must have noticed the way I was gaping at the house because he reached across the center console and nudged my jaw shut with his finger. "Don't look impressed yet," he said with amusement in his voice. "You still haven't seen the inside."

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