ON FRIDAY afternoon, I meet up with Nick and his friends for burgers at Five Guys in Times Square. The movie starts in an hour, but I barely recall what it's supposed to be about. All-day today, I've been busy texting with Bunny_Melissa, my beta reader. I met Bunny about a year ago. She is fifteen, but she's enthusiastic about proof-reading everything single darn thing I write. She doesn't have the best grammar or spelling skills, but my readers don't care about that. Bunny tells me when the chemistry between my characters is starting to fizz out, and that is what my readers care about.

I haven't written anything new this week. In fact, I've been texting Bunny all week about my stalker. Considering how long it's taking her to text back, she's getting tired of my paranoid rants. Finally, I put the phone away. Her responses are coming slowly anyway. Her away message says she's raiding in World of Warcraft right now.

"So, what's your story, New Girl?" One of the boys asks me as Nick goes up to the counter to place our orders. I vaguely remember that his name is Tom, and his friend, who is bringing us peanuts from the nut buffet, is William.

"What do you mean?"

"Are you one of the smart kids or the rich ones?"

I scuff and gesture to my Old Navy plaid dress, which I matched with a pair of black Converse sneakers. "Do I look like a trust fund baby to you?"

"Looks are deceiving," Tom says with a laugh and offers me a French Fry. I shake my head because they're all messily drenched in ketchup. Then, as soon as I refuse, I wish I had accepted it. He is just trying to be friendly. "Nick and William both come from money though you would never know just by looking at them. Me, on the other hand, I'm just tagging along for the ride. Just like you, I guess."

"Is it possible to be neither smart nor rich?" I ask with a laugh.

"I guess it's okay. You're hot, so that's better than being smart or rich."

I blush, and I don't know what to say in response. He looks away and continues to absently munch on french fries. As the awkward silence drags on, I feel as though Tom didn't call me hot as a compliment but rather because he finds me uninteresting.

"Nick's ex was really hot, I mean cool. Just like you. You remind me of her, a little," Tom says. I wrinkle my nose a little. I can tell by the way Tom said hot then quickly corrected himself, that Nick's ex was, in fact, truly hot. She was hot in a way that boys had to pretend like she's not hot to neg her, or in this case, to respect Nick's territory. "It's good that you're with Nick now. He needs to get over her."

"What happened to her?" I ask, but before Tom can respond, Nick shows up with our burgers. I wish I didn't have to eat a big greasy burger in front of the football team boys. I'm not skinny enough to look hot while shoving a giant cheesy ball of meat into my mouth. Maybe if I lost twenty pounds, I could pose sexily with a burger like Angelina Jolie. Nah, make that thirty.

As the boys dig into their food like they're engaging in an eating contest, I decide to forget about being insecure. Tom did call me hot. Though, he said it in a tone that made me think being hot didn't matter much with this group.

"Want some more ketchup?" Nick asks me as he crumples his wrapper into a ball and smashes it into the table. Yes, he won the eating contest. The other boys don't look surprised. Nick is clearly the alpha in this group.

"Sure," I answer. As Nick gets up from the table, I look at Tom. "What happened to Nick and his ex?"

"Ask Ruth," Tom replies and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. "It's probably better for you to ask the girls."

Tom and William start to talk about their fantasy football picks, and I lose interest. Nick returns and hands me a small mountain of ketchup packets. He sits down beside me stretches. I notice that he slyly places his arm around my waist after his fake-stretch. I like it. In response, I tilt my head toward his broad shoulders. Nick seems nervous now that his friends are purposely trying not to look at us.

I stop tilting my head toward Nick. I don't want Tom and William to start wondering why they were invited on our date. But it is a date, isn't it? So why did Nick invite the two of them? Now he's making a move on me in front of them. I'm so confused.

"Corrine, you ever been to the Hamptons?" Nick asks me out of the blue. "Charles is planning a party there during the three day weekend. His parents are away on a business trip that weekend."

"That's a great idea," Tom says. "It will be a good chance for you to get to know the girls better. Get to know the gang."

I'm pretty sure my mom would kill me if I asked her if I could sleepover at a guy's house for a three day weekend.

"There will be girls there?"

"Yeah, Ruth, Anne, Margaret, everyone," Tom tells me with his mouth full. He triumphantly finishes his burger and smashes the wrapper into a pancake on the table too. "Don't worry; we're chill."

I'm being invited to hang out with the rich, popular crowd at Piotr? Chill isn't the word I would use to describe it. Even so, I smile and nod like there's nothing else in the world I would like to do more.

God, help me.