“Jesus, Andy! This place is… insane,” Fin breathed out, his eyes glinting with unbridled excitement.
Ethan nodded in agreement, his pretty face lit up with an ethereal glow that made him look like he belonged in a Renaissance painting rather than a Vegas penthouse. The way his pale-blond hair caught the light, giving it a shimmering halo effect, was downright mesmerizing. “Yeah, it’s… wow.”
“Dig in,” I urged them, motioning toward the food with a flourish. “You’ve got work soon, and trust me, you’ll need the energy.”
The Collins brothers didn’t need to be told twice. They settled into their chairs and joined me in attacking the spread like a trio of starved wolves.
As we ate, Ethan’s light-blue eyes—so pale they were almost silver—met mine across the table. “Fin told me what you’ve been going through,” he said softly, concern etching his features. “If you need anything, Andy, all you have to do is ask.”
I nodded, touched by his offer. Ethan had always been our rock. When Fin and I first rolled into Vegas with little more than hopes and pocket lint, it was Ethan who took us in. His one-bedroom apartment became our makeshift home—I crashed on the living room couch while he and Fin shared the bedroom. But as soon as I scraped together enough cash from my odd jobs, I moved out. Not because I wanted to but because I couldn’t stomach being another mouth to feed.
Now Fin’s taken my place on that couch, and Ethan’s generosity hasn’t waned an inch.
Fin chimed in between mouthfuls of truffle mashed potatoes. “Living here’s like dancing with the devil at heaven’s gates,” he said with a grin.
I snorted at his description. “More like lounging in Satan’s penthouse suite,” I corrected him. “It’s all gold-plated handcuffs and gourmet prison food.”
Ethan chuckled softly while Fin shook his head in disbelief, still dazzled by our surroundings—but I knew better than to let the gilded cage fool me.
As we demolished the decadent spread like a trio of pirates plundering a treasure chest, a thought bobbed to the surface of my brain like a cork in the ocean. “Oh, Ethan, I met Tory Masuda the other night.”
Ethan’s eyes flickered with intrigue, his cheeks dusted with a blush that could rival the rosiness of the prime rib we were savaging. “Really? What’s he like?”
I couldn’t help but chuckle at his eagerness. “Cool as the other side of the pillow,” I said. “Just like you told me. Tory’s one of those guys who could charm the pants off a statue—and not just because he’s loaded.”
Ethan leaned in, hanging on every word. I paused for dramatic effect, skewering a particularly juicy piece of chicken before continuing. “He’s genuinely nice, too. Not just throwing around smiles like they’re casino chips.”
My words seemed to hit home, and Ethan’s eyes sparkled with that same mischief that always got us in trouble back in Mystic Spring.
“Yeah, he was with this pretty woman that night, though,” I added casually, cutting into the chicken and watching as the juices pooled on my plate.
I saw something flicker across Ethan’s face—like a cloud passing over the sun—but he quickly masked it with a practiced smile. “The food is amazing, Andy,” he said, steering the conversation back to safer waters. “Not likely we’ll get to chow down on anything like this again unless we hit some kind of jackpot.”
I nodded in agreement, though my mind lingered on that fleeting shadow in Ethan’s eyes.
A few moments later, Ethan pushed back from the table with a satisfied sigh. “Mind if I use your bathroom before heading to work?”
“The first door over there,” I directed him. “Can’t miss it—there’s enough marble in there to rebuild ancient Rome.”
As soon as Ethan was out of earshot, Fin leaned in close enough for me to catch a whiff of his cologne—a scent that somehow managed to be both spicy and sweet.
“You know,” Fin murmured conspiratorially, “Ethan’s got it bad for Tory.”
My eyebrows shot up. “No kidding?”
Fin nodded solemnly. “Tory was his savior when Ethan first moved here. But my poor big bro thinks Tory doesn’t even remember him.” He continued with a wistful tone. “To guys like Tory… we’re just specks of dust floating through their grand ballrooms.”
His words stirred something inside me—a nagging question that had been itching at the back of my mind ever since Matt swept into my life with all the subtlety of a hurricane.
Was I just another speck of dust to Matt? A fleeting distraction to toy with but never truly cherish?
Why did I even care what Matt thought? Yet there I was, pondering over it like some lovelorn teenager.
When Ethan returned from his marble-encrusted pit stop, both brothers thanked me profusely for lunch and packed up an impressive amount of leftovers to take with them—like two squirrels prepping for winter.
With one last round of bear hugs and promises to catch up soon, they left me standing alone amid the remains of our feast—my thoughts lingering on specks of dust and whether they could ever truly sparkle in someone’s eyes.
After Fin and Ethan left, I settled into my usual coding rhythm. The clatter of the keyboard felt like music, each keystroke a beat in my symphony of logic and creativity. There’s something liberating about writing code—an escape from reality where I controlled every variable and function. Unlike my life, it made sense.
