Jaqueline stood awkwardly in the doorway, taking in the chaos before her. If you'd asked her a month ago, she'd never have envisioned herself in a place like this. Mon dieu, no! There were people doing cocaine in one corner, some in a circle with a bottle as they cheered while two of them made out, and not to mention how bruyante it was. Why did she agree to come here again? Oh right, someone invited her because she did their homework and she didn't know how to say no.

She tugged at the hem of her blazer, wishing desperately that she hadn’t worn something so conspicuous. Her mother’s design, though stunning, only made her feel more out of place. The sleek tailoring and intricate beadwork screamed sophistication, but here, surrounded by ripped jeans and crop tops, it felt like an elaborate costume.

She started making her way to the drinks. After all, that's what you did at parties, oui? Get drunk? Making her way toward the drinks table, Jacqueline picked up a red plastic cup, as if holding it might help her blend in. One sip was enough to make her retch—the bitter taste of cheap alcohol coated her tongue. She froze mid-cough, though, when her eyes locked with the infamous campus playgirl, who had a girl on her lap laughing at something she said. But the girl was unceremoniously shoved away, as apparently Jacqueline had caught her attention. C'est parfait. Just her luck. Now she was going to have to talk with the girl who had friends dime a dozen and relationships ten a penny.