The guys waved at me, and I returned the gesture.

Mason tucked his hands inside his pocket as his eyes traveled up and down my body. I flushed, suddenly embarrassed for being dressed like that in front of him. Ugh, I hated how I cared what he thought.

“Not your boyfriend,” Mason said, his tone strained and his eyes tough.

“He’s not,” I said. “My mother has been setting up these outings and … you know what? It doesn’t matter.”

“He sure looks like your boyfriend.”

I groaned. “What do you want?” He shrugged, averting his eyes. “You were walking toward me. If you didn’t want anything, you wouldn’t have done that.”

He stared at me. “I don’t know, okay? I just saw you, and like before, I just had to get to you, to see you.” He gave a step toward me, his eyes softening a little. “I want to talk to you.”

“Mason.” I sighed. “You don’t want to get mixed up with me. It’s not worth it.”

“You should let me decide that.” He took a step closer.

I knew I should move away, but I couldn’t. My gaze followed his ticking jaw, his tense neck, the neckline of his black shirt, the way it hugged his shoulders, arms, and chest. I could see his muscles. I remembered them. I found myself incapable of ungluing my eyes from his body. His jeans also didn’t help. They were tight enough to see he had a great behind and powerful legs.

With the breeze, his aftershave scent hit me and I inhaled deeply, remembering how many times I had wrapped myself around that scent. Around him. I shivered.

I looked up and found Mason less than a foot from me.

“You were just checking me out,” he said, the corner of his lip tugging up. “That has to count for something.”

“No, I wasn’t!” I said too quickly.

He leaned over me and I stopped breathing. “That’s okay. I like it. It means you want me. And I want you too.”

His hand reached for me but I snapped out of it. Looking side to side, I retreated, putting a few feet between us.

I put on my business hat. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. It may seem interesting, a challenge, but that’s all this is. I’m not the girl you met in Califor—”

“I know you are,” I said.

“—nia. This is me.” I waved down myself, feeling sick to my stomach. I so wasn’t like this and I hated lying to him, but I had to. I couldn’t have him looking at me like that, because I wouldn’t be able to say no for much longer. “Though I’m not dating Donnie, that’s what is expected of me.”

“That’s bullshit.”

I felt the tears burning behind my eyes. “This is my life.”

Before I broke down, I turned my back to him and rushed away.

“Charlotte!” Mason called, but I ignored him.

I wiped the unshed tears as I stepped back onto the path. The urge to look back, to run back to him was painful, but I didn’t give in. Two steps into the path, I found Donnie a few yards east, looking around, searching for me, and holding two steaming cups.

He turned around and smiled when he saw me. “There you are,” he said, strolling to me. “I thought I had lost you.”

I took a cup from him. “Sorry, I had something on my shoe, so I went looking for a place to sit and fix it.”

He offered his arm to me. “Is it fixed now?”

What was fixed? My shoe? My mind? My heart? “Yes, it is.”

“Good,” he said.

I suggested changing routes and going north, toward the White House, hoping we stayed clear of any kind of temptations.

Mason

I stood there, watching as Charlotte escaped from me with that goddamned boyfriend of hers. All I wanted was to scoop her in my arms, run away with her, and say to hell with her I-have-to-be-like-this routine. But I didn’t. I knew she would resent me more than be happy with the act. So I just stared, my fists closed, my teeth gritted.

“What was that?” Matt asked, catching up with me.

Brody put his arm over my shoulders. “Charlotte lives here?”

“Yes. No. She lives in Richmond.”

Matt gaped. “Wait. Have you known where she was from since spring break? I thought she didn’t tell you.”

“She didn’t,” I said. “I had no idea where she lived, until I met her at a ball. I worked as a waiter and she was one of the rich people enjoying the evening.”

Brody’s brows shot up. “How rich?”

“As in daughter of the governor rich.”

“Fuck,” Brody whispered.

Matt whistled. “That explains the odd clothes.”

“What?” I asked.

“Yes, well, politicians and their families have certain standards,” Matt explained.

I sighed. “But that’s not her.”

“How do you know?”

“I just do,” I said. “She’s the girl I met during spring break. This one”—I pointed my chin to where she disappeared—“is like a mask she wears.” Matt narrowed his eyes at me. “What?”

“You’ve got it bad,” he said. Brody nodded in agreement.

“What? Of course not. I barely know her.”

Matt laughed. “As if that mattered.”

“I’ve got nothing,” I hissed. “And I’m gonna prove it tonight.”

Charlotte

“This is getting harder,” I said, my cell phone pressed between my ear and my shoulder.

“I think I heard that a couple of weeks ago,” Liana said, on the other side of the line.

“But now it is even harder.” I halted in front of the tall mirror in my closet and looked at myself. I didn’t look like it, but I felt like a total mess. “It wasn’t this hard before, to do whatever my mother wanted. To be conservative. To dress in pencil skirts and blouses. To wear pearls. To go through political science. I didn’t mind it before, not this much anyway.”

“That is because …” Liana prompted.

I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about Mason, about my life, about my future since I had seen him five days ago at the National Mall. Who was I kidding? I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about any of it since bumping into him at the Memorial Day ball over a month ago.

I grunted. “You know why.”

“I do, but I think saying it out loud helps. It’s like your brain won’t really absorb it if you don’t say it out loud.”

“Then I won’t say it out loud.”

“Charlotte!” Liana chuckled. “You have to. Come on. Do it.”

With one free hand, I picked up my dress and put it in front of myself—a deep green cocktail dress with a narrow waist and a flare skirt that fell to my knees. Always to my knees. And the neckline came way over my breasts. No parts exposed whatsoever.

I sighed. “I can’t … I shouldn’t.”

“I love you. I always have, and I’ll continue loving you even when you marry that guy you’ve been going out with lately,” Liana said. I cringed, glad my friend couldn’t see me. “And become the next First Lady, and forget all about me. However, if you do that, you’ll forget about you too, you know.”

Yup. I knew that. “I wish it was easy,” I mumbled.

“I know. But I’m here, okay. If you need someone to hold your hand or to give you a push, I’m here.”

I smiled. “I know. Thank you.”

“Charlotte!” My mother’s voice echoed from the corridor. “Are you ready?”

“Almost!” I shouted back. Then I spoke into the phone, “I’ve gotta go.”

“All right. Call me later.”

“I will.”

“Try to have fun,” Liana said, as always.

I hung up and slipped on the dress carefully so as not to ruin my makeup and my intricate ponytail. After a little shimmy, I was able to pull the zipper up. I put on my pumps and looked at myself in the mirror again. However, I didn’t see me. It saw Peyton McClain’s daughter, someone I barely knew, someone I barely liked.

Until recently—until Mason moved to Washington—I had been okay with all of this. I knew my mother would direct my life, tell me what to do, who to date, where to go. I was sure my mother wouldn’t choose anything bad for me. I had been raised to trust my mother, to obey my mother. Yes, I had my few hours with Liana, MaryAnn, and Becca every week and that was all the escape I had needed. Now, it didn’t seem enough. I wanted more. I wanted to be free. I wanted to live my life, to make my choices, to go to art school instead of law, to work for a studio and have my face smeared with charcoal, to live in a messy townhouse in a nice residential neighborhood with kids playing ball in the streets, to kiss the guy I wanted to kiss.