Welcome to Bridgeport Academy, an elite boarding school in New York where glamorous rich kids don't let rules get in the way of a good time.
[ Based on the It Girl series by Cecily Von Ziegesar ]
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After a few blunts were passed around out on the balcony, the party took a turn toward the lethargic. Sleepy, satisfied bodies were draped in various states of repose across the expensive furniture.
"Why does everyone have to act like a zombie after they smoke?" Jasmine demanded of Chris, who was slouched in a corner of the couch, lifelessly flicking through the cable channels. She tapped the toe of her shoe against his shin. "Hello?"
"Why don't you do something to liven up the party for us, Jas?" Dave came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her. His whiskey breath stung her nose.
"That sounds like a dare." Jasmine flicked Dave's arms off her and strode across the room. If anyone loved a dare, she did.
First, off with the television. Jasmine poked the power button on the TV. Then she twirled the volume dial on the speakers and the latest Beyoncé song flooded the room. She narrowed her eyes as she watched everyone watching her—this was what she was waiting for.
In one smooth motion, she hopped up onto the tall, mahogany desk against the wall of the living room. A large, gilded mirror hung behind it, and everyone stared as both Jasmine and her image started to swing her hips in sync to the heavy, pulsing beat. She fingered the plunging neckline of her jacket, her hand slowing as she neared the top button. Her thumb pushed it through the buttonhole.
Jasmine grinned. Suddenly it was a party again.
"Take it off!" Bryson cried out drunkenly, leaping up from the armchair he was sharing with Sevyn while trying to slide his hands up her skirt. Sevyn glared at him. He didn't notice.
Jasmine smiled devilishly and tossed her long mane of blonde hair. With excruciating slowness, she played with the second button, torturing her captive audience as long as she could before sliding it through its buttonhole. Her eyes stared down Dave across the room, and he lifted his head from Zendaya's lap, where she'd been massaging his scalp. He clapped and hooted as Jasmine suddenly pulled her jacket down to reveal one bare shoulder.
Robyn poured herself another glass of wine at the bar, irritated by Jasmine's antics. Did she always have to be the center of everything? She took a big gulp and looked around for Chris—she couldn't help it; she'd been doing it all night. Watching him out of the corner of her eye, counting how many girls he was talking to. It was pathetic, and she knew it. But when she saw his eyes tracing the movements of Jasmine's body, she'd had enough.
"Help me up," Robyn demanded as she slipped off her jeweled Jimmy Choos and took Jasmine's hand. "Oof."
"You're killing me!" Bryson crawled on his knees over to the desk and bowed several times to the two girls, as if they were some sacred altar.
"Hey, baby." Jasmine pushed Robyn's hair back behind her ear and whispered in it, "Work it." Jasmine stepped back and casually slid her jacket off to her elbows, revealing a sheer black bra, with strategically placed lacy embroidery to keep it from being entirely see-through. She tossed back her head and gave a throaty laugh that seemed to say she was perfectly comfortable dirty dancing on top of a bureau at the Ritz with her top off.
Robyn wanted—no, needed—to be that carefree. And so it seemed like a good idea to slip first one spaghetti strap, then the other, off her shoulders and start to shimmy out of her red slip dress. She glanced at Chris, but he was no longer on the couch. In fact, he wasn't even in the room. What did she have to do to get his attention, damn it!
"What are you doing?" A face separated itself from the crowd. Aubrey. He reached up to pull Robyn down.
She danced backward, out of his reach. "I'm dancing, Aubrey." She put her arm around Jasmine's waist, and the two of them moved their hips together. Maybe Chris would walk back in?
Dave, wearing Chris's fedora and a white terry-cloth robe, came up behind Aubrey and tried to pull him away. "Bruh, you're ruining a good thing."
Aubrey pushed him away. "You're drunk, Robyn. Please, just...just come to our room."
"Aubrey!" Robyn shrieked, whirling around so fast she almost slid off the desk. "It's your room, not our room. Why don't you just go watch a gay porno or something?" She glared at him before turning back to Jasmine, still dancing with a smirk on her face. "At least Dave is fun," she whispered to her, loud enough for Aubrey to hear.
"Fine. Make a fool of yourself." Aubrey shoved Dave away from him and stomped out the door. It looked like he was going to have more champagne and more chocolate-covered strawberries for himself.
