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Sly nods. I see a bit of understanding in his dark eyes. “Fuck, you mean it was like… like her peculiar way of ending things before they started or something?”
I sigh. “Yes! That’s it, exactly, man! It was as if she told herself,No fucking way will he say anything, and this is how I prove to the both of us that he just wants to have some fun and move on… It’s like she thought I didn’t want a commitment…”
“But you do?” Rick asks, eyes narrowed.
I chuckle at his disbelief. I can’t blame him. He has known me since we were kids, and he knows I don’t commit. Like ever. “Yes, Richard. I do. I told her aboutBurning 21because I wanted her to have no doubts that I’m in it for the long run. Like… she’sitfor me.”
“How do you even fucking know?”
I turn to face Sly. “Can’t really explain… I just do. I guess, to understand it, you should feel what I feel when I look at Mia. Which, you’d honestly better off not fucking feeling at all when I introduce her to you two fuckers because I would have to break my boot in your sorry asses if you did.”
Both of my friends laugh, the tension fizzling out of the room.
Rick shakes his head slowly. “Man, you really have it bad… thank God this shit isn’t catching.”
I grin at him. “I’m not sure about it… this kinda shit’s always in the air. And when you see the one woman that’s meant to be yours, you’ll find you’re entangled before you even know you stepped into the web, and the crazy thing is you’ll be fucking happy about it.”
Sly laughs again. “Hard pass.”
“I will have to agree. No way I’m letting some girl I haven’t even dated a week get me pussy-whipped like this.”
“Asshole,” I throw a pillow at Rick and catch him straight in the face.
He tosses it back my way and stands up again, walking to the mini-fridge. “And she won’t be rushing on her Instagram or whatever the fuck it is she uses to tell the universe whatBurning 21means?”
I smile. “She won’t. She would never do that.”
Sly downs the last of his drink and crushes the can. “And you know thatbecause…?”
I shrug. “I just know.”
Rick makes a big show of nodding. “It’s the power of true Disney lovey-dovey love, man. You can’t understand. Only Carson and Mia can and—”
I’m about to sock him for being a smartass jerk when an abrupt brusque knock at the door interrupts us both.
“Are you expecting someone?” Sly asks.
I shake my head. “No. Don’t people have to stop at the front desk and ask to be invited up?”
Sly nods. "Maybe it's someone from the hotel staff, then?"
Rick is closer to the entrance door, so he’s the one that looks through the little peephole.
When he turns, there's a shocked expression on his face. "What the fuck, dude?! There's a fucking FBI badge opened in front of the hole," he stage-whispers at me.
“Well, I guess that explains why no one called to ask you if they should send your mysterious little guest up or not…”
Sly pushes me toward the door even as I’m already walking that way, nearly making me trip over my damn feet.
I shove him to the side. “Man, be cool… this is probably some mistake. It’s not like—”
I stop talking.
My friends continue with their whisper-shouting routine.
“What, man? What’s going on?”
“What did you just recall?”
