The weeks fly by from January and into February, the weather in Vermont not letting up even with all of my hoping and wishing.

The temperatures are frigid, and I consider flying to Bermuda or one of the closer Caribbean islands for a long weekend. But surprisingly, my coursework is a little more extensive than I thought it would be. Blair and I have to complete a project that requires us to drive to dozens of surrounding wineries in the area, and it takes us longer than expected, using up weekends that I thought I’d be spending in my room.

Between those trips and completing tasks for Charter House, my time has flown out the window. Figuring out how to hang my thong from the flag pole, ditching out on a check in one of the fanciest restaurants in Thistle, and having to clean the toilets with a toothbrush haven’t exactly been my idea of fun, but they have brought me one step closer to potentially being in the social club.

Which I don’t even know if I want, but my mind is still hot on the trail of those rumors, and if I can protect the other three girls pledging with me, I’ll stay on until at least I know they’re safe and inducted … out of harm’s way. The more I participate, the more I realize I don’t really want to be a part of Gretchen and her crew, but it’s too enticing not to find out what might be at the end of the rainbow.

Case in point, my coming tonight. Valentine’s Day isn’t really the Hallmark holiday in Europe that it is in the States, but we still like to get romantic on this day.

I’ve never been one to get all legless over flowers and chocolate, and to be honest, I’ve never really had a Valentine’s Day date. Sure, I’ve had flings and boys who have lasted more than one night, but relationships really hadn’t been my thing. There was just no one I was so interested in that I’d felt the need to commit more to … and perhaps that was a problem.

“Do another shot with me!” Abby throws her arm around my neck, laughing and smelling of strawberry vodka.

I sip my love punch, the drink of the night, and feel the buzz suffuse me. “Sure, why not? If you can’t be in love, you might as well be pissed!”

This was my motto tonight, especially since Colton had walked into the mixer between the social clubs with another girl. A tall, leggy brunette with hair down to her butt, and a stomach so flat it could double as an ironing board.

I wasn’t jealous … and I’d deny I was if anyone asked me. Not that they had, he wasn’t mine and I had no claim. But over the past weeks, when he’d seen me on campus or at a party, he’d made it a point to come up and talk to me. I’d gone to the most amount of basketball games I’d ever attended in my life, and it wasn’t because I wanted to see our unbeaten record preserved.

“Is she prettier than me?” The doubt creeps in to my voice as I point, one eye open to focus, at the girl cozied up to Colton.

Abby glances at the Amazonian. “Um, are you kidding? No! You’re way prettier. You’re like some kind of ice princess model, I’d kill to look like you.”

I snickered, the comparison funny to my drunken brain. “Well, don’t actually kill me.”

“Okay, maybe I’d just chop off your hair and make extensions of it.” She shrugged, handing me a Jell-O shot.

We slammed them back, my head swimming from the quick motion. “Note to self, don’t fall asleep in the same room as Abby.”

The sudden urge to pee comes over me, and I tell her rather loudly that I’m off to find the toilet.

This Valentine’s Day mixer is at Yardsley House, and I’m unfamiliar with the territory. Wandering up to the second floor, where maybe I’ll find an unoccupied bathroom, I begin to search the halls.

I randomly flip open doors, hoping for my bladder’s sake that I score a loo sometime soon.

Muffled sounds came from a room just down the hall, and the Jell-O shots were causing my legs to move of their own accord. An impending sense of doom washes over me, and I ignore the instinct that tells me to go back downstairs, leave whatever this is alone.

Instead, my fingers close around the pewter knob on a nearby door, and push it in.

Two figures maneuver on the bed, what they’re doing is no secret to anyone watching. And that’s when the boy looks up. Cropped blond hair, khaki pants around his ankles … Gretchen’s boyfriend Daniel stares straight at me.

Except underneath him is not the president of Charter House … but her good friend, Ciara.

“Get the hell out!” Daniel’s clipped Boston accent yells at me.

“Eloise …” Ciara’s voice is both angry and pleading.

I turn on my heel before the image of Daniel buried deep within his girlfriend’s best friend can sear itself into my brain anymore. I’m practically running down the stairs when a hand catches my arm, and Colton materializes in front of me.

“Eloise, you almost took a head dive down these hardwoods. What’s up?” He’s too attractive, his spicy mint scent invading all of my senses.

“I … have to go. Take me somewhere.” It’s not a question, but a demand.

I don’t know why I make it. Maybe I need to escape this corrupt world in the one way I always have, through someone else’s body. We’ve been dancing around it for weeks, and right now, getting lost in Colton seems like the best idea I can think of.

His eyes turn molten, the green melting in the blue, sparking as his hand slides down to take my own. I like that he doesn’t ask me any questions, doesn’t stop to make sure I’m sure about this. Because if he did, I’d probably stop this. But in an instant, we’re at the front door of Yardsley House.

Colton’s big, callused hand is hot in mine, practically burning my skin. He shoves past the entrance and we’re hit full on in the face with a gust of frigid air, the scent of snow burning my nostrils. It almost wakes me up, breaks the spell of what we’re about to do.

But the animal pulling me along, the delicious beast so confident it’s hard for me to swallow all of his ego, doesn’t allow me the time to think.

One minute I’m walking briskly down the porch, and the next Colton is shoving me up against the closest car. It knocks the wind out of me at first, until I register his scorching mouth igniting against mine.

Every other thought vanishes, nothing exists in this moment but his lips on mine and his hands pushing and pulling at my dress, the material rubbing against me in the most scandalous of ways.

And the only thing I know as he begins to suck my bottom lip in with his teeth, is that this golden boy was made to kiss … made to kiss me.