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“Look at Petal!” Tyler shouts, passing me another.
“No, I’ve had enough.” I know when to stop. But I can’t deny I’m feeling pretty freaking good.
“I’ll take hers,” Rake says. In an instant, it’s gone.
Interesting night. I’m being doted on by a gorgeous hockey player who attracts all sorts of attention, which he is mostly oblivious to as long as camera flashes aren’t blinding him.
On top of that, I’m having fun. It’s all so strange.
And things get even stranger when we meander down the Strip and pass one of those cheesy wedding chapels they have so many of here.
Tyler jumps in front of us like a crazed monkey. “I dare you guys. I dare you to go in there and get married. Vince would lose his motherfucking mind!”
The thought of doing anything to irritate Vince sounds immensely attractive. And yet.
“Dude, fuck off,” Rake laughs, and pushes him out of the way.
“Aw, you never go for it. You never say what the fuck,” Tyler taunts. “You wouldn’t know a good time if it sat on your face.”
The rest of the gang surrounds us.
“Can you imagine?” Zink says. “Coming back to San Francisco married? That would be hilarious.”
Or you know, fucking crazy.
“You know,” Jonas says, “it could help with your…issue, Rake.”
Rake shakes his head, and we pass the wedding chapel. “Oh yeah, great idea, guys.”
In moments, Tyler’s leading the group in a chorus of ‘Do it! Do it! Do it!’
Very funny.
Rake takes my hand. He actually takes my hand. And I grip his right back. He looks at his friends who’ve completely lost their minds, then looks up and down the street at the adult playground that is Las Vegas.
He turns to me, eyes sparkling.
Oh no.
What is he up to?
“Hey, Petal. When was the last time you did something completely out of character? Like batshit crazy, unconventional, and spontaneous?”
My mouth opens, then closes again, like a gasping fish.
“Let your hair down, baby,” Rake says.
“It’s already down,” I say.
Truth be told, I don’t do a lot of crazy. But I’m not about to admit that to Rake and his friends. They already think I’m a charity date.
Wendy and Daria are at my side. “You know the saying, ‘when in Vegas,’ right?” Wendy asks, nudging me with a giggle.
“Yes, I’m familiar with it,” I say nervously.
This can’t be happening. My resolve is crumbling. Actually, really crumbling. The tequila shot, and the wine before it, has gone to my head, and I’m really, actually contemplating doing something only a fucking idiot would consider.
That’s me. A fucking idiot.
