Free I Like It Like That by Cecily von Ziegesar

he couldn't wait to try it out.
    “Maybe you could call and ask exactly where it is,” the driver suggested, glancing at Georgie in the rearview mirror. The ride from the airport to her house was only supposed to take about twenty minutes, but they'd been driving around Sun Valley for forty-five.
    “Just keep driving,” Georgie commanded as she rested her head heavily against Nate's shoulder. The sleeping pill she'd mooched off the old man sitting next to her on the plane still hadn't worn off, and as usual she wasn't making any sense. Also, she was wearing purple satin Miu Miu sandals and a flimsy black halter top, which was kind of strange, considering the fact that they were going skiing. Still, her smooth, pale arms felt good in Nate's hands, and her thick, dark brown hair was so sleek and luxurious, he didn't mind. It was nice just being together in person instead of on the phone.
    “Do you remember how many floors it has?” he asked, trying to be helpful. “Or if there's like, a stream next to it or something?”
    “Not really,” Georgie yawned. “I remember one time when we were here for Christmas, Nanny and I built a snowman together. I stole one of my mother's Fendi purses for it to carry on its stick arm.”
    Very helpful.
    The driver was sort of creeping along the road back toward town. He seemed to have given up.
    “Wait a minute,” Georgie cried, sitting up.
    The car jolted to a halt.
    “That's it!” She grappled with the door handle and slid the minivan door open, completely unmindful of the fact that she was getting out in the middle of the road on a blind turn. “Come on!” she called to Nate impatiently. Obviously she expected the driver or the house staff to deal with the luggage.
    Don't we all?
    Nate had admired the sprawling timber ranch house the two other times they'd driven by it, wondering who lived there and if they were famous or something, since there were seven matching black Mercedes SUVs parked outside.
    “Whose cars are these?” he asked as he followed Georgie down the snow-dusted driveway to the imposing eight-foot-high brushed-steel front doors of the house.
    Georgie bit her bloodred lower lip with eager anticipation. She didn't even seem to notice that her satin sandals were already completely ruined. “I guess someone knew we were coming.” The massive doors swung open with barely a nudge. “Mom doesn't believe in locks,” Georgie explained. “She likes her friends to feel welcome even if she's not here.”
    “She's not here?” Nate had sort of assumed when Georgie first told him about the trip that they'd be hanging out with Georgie's mom—that they'd help her cook dinner and then watch movies together until her mom fell asleep on the sofa and they could sneak upstairs to have sex.
    “Nah. She's in the Dominican Republic or Venezuela or somewhere. She always goes south in the winter.”
    They were inside the lofty foyer of the house now. The floor was made of red clay tiles. Big exposed wooden beams crisscrossed overhead. The foyer opened onto a huge sunken living room with an entire wall made of glass facing the mountains. Off the living room was a wooden deck, where steam from a hot tub rose into the air, barely masking the seven heads of the people sitting in it.
    “Ooh, the hot tub's turned on!” Georgie squealed, kicking off her sandals. “Last one in has to bring the drinks!”
    Nate let her run on ahead as he gazed up the wide plank staircase to the second floor. Clothes littered the stairs, and along the windowsill on the landing above were the small round skulls of wildcats.
    He crossed the living room, sunlight pouring through the wall of glass and drenching his face. In front of the great stone fireplace was a grizzly bear rug.
    We should be fooling around on that rug right now, he thought bitterly, but instead he had to go out and talk to a bunch of strangers in Georgie's mom's hot tub.
    There were seven of them altogether, which sort of explained