A Future?
With me?
“We had a sex pact,” I remind him.
“We never had a damn sex pact.”
“You said it on the plane. What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas.”
“We’re not in Vegas!”
“Wait, which one of you am I talking to?”
I see two very sexy Bricks staring angrily at me, but I want to give the one talking my full attention.
“I didn’t realize you were this drunk.”
“I’m not a good drinker.” I giggle.
“Come on, the reception is winding down, anyway. I’m going to put you to bed.”
“I don’t think I can make it,” I say urgently, as I lean over and dump the entire contents of my stomach into a bush of pink flowers.
Brick holds my hair away from my face with one hand as he rubs my back with another. It would be embarrassing if I wasn’t so relieved to feel a lot better than I did a few moments ago.
“Upsy-daisy.”
Suddenly I’m swept up into Brick’s arms and carried the long way back to the hotel, along the shoreline. I feel like Julia Roberts inPretty Womanwhen Richard Gere swept her into his arms and carried her through the factory, except I smell like vomit and am half dressed in a tux.
He continues to hold me as we enter the hotel elevator, maneuvering the key card with me still in his arms. I’m sleepy as he lays me on the massive bed, not really sure if I’m in my room or his, but it doesn’t matter. Either way, I’ll be asleep in a few seconds. I just have to get this damn suit off.
“Here, I’ll help you,” Brick offers, sounding concerned rather than angry.
“Why are you mad at me?” I ask as he lifts my soiled camisole up and off me. “Wasn’t my tux amazing?”
“You looked incredible,” he agrees with a smile. “I think every man in the room would agree on that.”
“But why are you mad at me?” I ask again, feeling like he may be dodging the question.
“Because sometimes I don’t think you know who I am.”
“That’s silly.” I smile. “You’re Brick. My brother’s best friend. The best offensive player on The Nighthawks. The hometown hero.”
In only a pair of panties, I snuggle under the pillow soft sheets of the bed and close my eyes as I feel myself start to drift off.
The last thing I hear on my way toward a state of blissful sleep is, “dream of me, beautiful.”
Kaya
Uncle Zee has losthis mind because the buffet breakfast at the Royal Suites is amazeballs. I’d pay twice the cost of everything I’ve eaten this morning. The food is super fresh and everything tastes like they have cooked it to order by a very talented chef.
I close my eyes in delight as I swallow a large gulp of the freshly pressed papaya juice and two ibuprofen.
“You need to try the hair of the dog,” my uncle offers. “You need a mimosa instead of just that juice.”
“I think I’m good with this. I’m not touching champagne or Prosecco for a really long time.”
“You’re nothing like your father,” my uncle chuckles. “He could drink me under the table.”
