Chapter 26: TJ
I like touching Rachel.She hasn’t pushed me away yet.I hope she never does.
"Do you want to keep walking or should we grab a cab?"I ask.We’ve been wandering around Las Vegas Boulevard.We’re right in front of the Fountains of Bellagio."How far is it?"I should lean in and kiss her here.This would be a romantic place to do it.
She lets my hand drop to consult her phone."Almost two miles from here.Let’s grab a cab so we can get back quicker.I know you’re a super-fit pro-athlete and all, but I’m not, and I’m tired."
Right.She’s ready to be done with me."Sure."I flag down a cab.We slide in, and she keeps shifting in her seat until her thigh is pressing into mine.We’re so close that I either need to put my arm around her or my hand on her thigh.I go for option A, stretching my arm across the back of the seat.
"Are you having fun out here?"I ask, practically murmuring into her hair.I really like her hair.Did I tell her that yet?I should have told her that already.I should say something sly and smooth and clever.Instead, I say, "I like your hair."
I am an idiot.But then, by some miracle, I swear she leans in a little closer.There’s no mistaking it.She’s leaning her head on my chest.Maybe she’s tired.I want to remember this feeling of Rachel in my arms forever.With my free hand, I lift my phone and snap a picture.
"You’re not putting that on your ClikClak or Insta, are you?"she asks.
"You don’t want me to?"
"I’m probably not right for your image."
I sit up a little straighter, pulling away to look at her."What do you mean by that?"
"Oh, come on.Look at you.Look at me.You’re in Vegas.You should be club hopping with someone in a painted-on minidress and stilettos, not me in my Walmart tank top and jorts."
"Jorts?What the hell are jorts?Are they some kind of fancy sneaker?"I look at her feet.She’s wearing flip-flops.No wonder she doesn’t want to walk another two miles.Her feet have got to be killing her.
"Do I look like a fancy sneaker girl to you?Jorts are jean shorts.And you prove my point.You don’t even know what jorts are.You have a brand.I’m not it.Don’t tank your aesthetics by putting a picture of me up, especially not when I look like this."
I don’t know what to say.Of course, she would think that I care about stuff like that.It’s all my social media is.The perfect image.I’ve worked hard to keep it that way.
I know, it’s a dick thing to say, but it is how my social media looks.What I have to decide is if I want to keep it that way.I need to come up with a plan.
I choose my words carefully, because the last thing I want to do is hurt Rachel’s feelings."I understand what you’re saying.I—" I break off because whatever I say will come out wrong."I … I just wanted a picture of us.To remember the night.To remember what a good time I had."
Like I’ll ever forget it.
She took me out for ice cream after my game.And paid.
I will never be able to eat hot fudge again without thinking about her.
Once back at the hotel, Rachel marches across the lobby, straight toward the elevator.I put my hand on her shoulder to make her pause."Wanna get a drink?"I ask."There’s a bar on the sixty-fourth floor.We can look out over all of Vegas."
She looks unsure.
"I’m not sure if I can get into my room yet," I say, hoping the desperation to continue my night with her isn’t evident.
We step into the elevator."I’m not the glitzy rooftop bar type."Her gaze drops to her feet.
"Aw, come on.You only live once."
She freezes for a moment.Then she says, "How ’bout we have a drink in my room?"She looks at me hopefully.
Since I’m only doing this to prolong my time with her, I nod."Sounds good."I pull out my phone and order a bottle of prosecco from room service to be delivered to her room."Drinks are on the way."
There’s no hint of Ophelia when we get back to the room.This is good.The longer she spends with her husband, the longer I get to stay with Rachel.The room is virtually identical to ours, with a view of the stadium we played in.Was that really just a few hours ago?The after-game high is starting to wear off.Not to mention the time difference.Three days is not enough to adjust my body to the Pacific Time Zone.I feel like it’s 3 a.m.
I might just ask Rachel if I can crash on the couch in her room.
"Um, so Ophelia just texted and asked me if you can spend the night here."Rachel is practically pacing around the room.She’s picking up and folding clothes, straightening the pen and pad of paper on the desk.If I didn’t know better, I’d think she was nervous.
