I usually roll my eyes because only men could get away with that logic.
I say my goodbyes to the bride squad, promising Alaya I’ll be back in time for her sunset wedding tomorrow—hopefully minus the tequila still coursing through my veins and the simmering rage that’s clinging to me like bad perfume.
“Go sleep it off,” Alaya says, giving me one last hug. “You’ll feel better tomorrow.”
Sarah leans in for a hug. “And hey—no drunk-texting Jeremy, ok?”
I hold up three fingers. Then burp. “Scout’s honor.”
As I’m weaving my way through the casino toward the car queue, I pull out my phone and shoot my dad a quick text.
Me:Heading back to the villa to sleep off tequila. Have fun tonight but not too much fun. I’m not bailing you out of jail…again.
A minute later, the three little dots pop up.
Daddy:The hooker said her pimp will bail me out.
I laugh to myself and slide the phone back into my clutch. Pretty sure he’s joking.
It’s nine p.m. on a Saturday night and I’m wearing thecutestCrash Steele dress I had made especially for this weekend.
The bodice is pure art. It’s strapless, with intricate black lace that curves in all the right places, hugging my body like a second skin. The layers of soft, inky-black tulle float out from my hips in an asymmetric sweep that hits mid-thigh. It’s sultry, dramatic,perfectfor a night out in Vegas.
Ishouldbe out partying, dancing, giving my best friend the biggest, wildest send-off before her wedding. But no.
Instead, my night is currently being ruined by a man who has never—not once—given me an orgasm.
The audacity.
As I round the corner near one of the side entrances, I pass a guy standing behind a branded pop-up table, a big neon sign flashingSightUnseenabove his head.
He’s calling out to people as they walk by, waving a clipboard in one hand. “Sign-ups open now! Condensed version of the show! Ninety minutes to meet the love of your life!”
I slow my steps, curiosity tugging at me.
He spots me immediately. “You look like someone who is ready for love!”
I arch a brow. “SightUnseen? Isn’t that the reality show where people date through pods and end up engaged without ever seeing each other?”
“That’s the one! This is the fast-track version,” he says with a slick grin. “Ninety minutes in the pods. If you both make it through, you can either take a weekend getaway or go all in, get married, and win a million dollars if you stay married for a year. And hey—we’ve had some success stories!”
I cross my arms. “But we don’thaveto marry the person at the end of the night, right?”
He shakes his head quickly. “Of course not. It’s just a fun social experiment. But you never know—sometimes love shows up when you least expect it.”
Love can show up when you least expect it.
Sure, it sounds cute in theory—but what would I even know about that? About what love really looks like? What it’s supposed to feel like?
It’s not like I’m one of those girls who grew up chasing after her father’s approval or wondering why he wasn’t around. I had my dad. We’ve always had this weirdly close, open kind of bond—one where nothing’s really off-limits. We talk about everything, probably more than most fathers and daughters do. But even with that, if I’m honest, there’s still a gap in my understanding of romantic love.
Because outside of the way he talks about my mom, I’ve never actually seen a man love someone. I’ve never watched my father fall—never caught him dancing barefoot in the kitchen late at night, wrapped around a woman he couldn’t get enough of. I’ve never seen him swept up in real romance.
So yeah, I had my dad. But I’ve never had a man model what true devotion looks like. What it means to choose someone—every day, without fail.
What if there’s something I could actually learn from this little experiment?
I glance at the clipboard.
