A group of girls, who really were drunk, stumped in front of us. “Hey, will you take a picture of our group?”
“Sure,” Chance said and grabbed the offered phone.
The women lined up beside the fountains and posed as he snapped three pictures of them.
“Thanks so much,” the phone’s owner said as she took back her device and stopped beside Chance for longer than needed and hovered.
“No problem,” he said, still completely clueless.
That man.
The group of women walked off, and I regained my position beside him. “I can’t take you anywhere without someone hitting on you.”
Chance placed his hands on my shoulder, his long drink cup leaning to the side. If he’d still had something in it, the liquid would have poured down my arm. “That’s what I’m trying to say, Hope.”
“What?” Did we have a conversation, and I blacked out during it? Was I drunk?
“I don’t want any other girls, but you.”
I rolled my eyes at his dramatics.
“No, seriously, Hope. That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.”
“Tell me what?” I asked as another group of friends piled in front of the fountains for a picture. Maybe he was the drunk one.
“You’re it for me, Hope. I’ve loved you for years but never said anything because I didn’t want to ruin our friendship, but I can’t hold it in anymore. You’re the person I visualize spending the rest of my life with from here until forever.” He had to shout over the music from the fountains.
I stared at him, stunned. Did he really say what I think he did? The words slowly sank in, and the longer it continued, the more I believed what he said was real and not some drink-induced confession.
“You’re drunk,” I accused, just to make sure.
He shook his head and moved us to the side, closer to the steps of the Bellagio. “I’m not, and I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life. I love you, Hope.”
“You love me?”
His fingers held on to my shoulders tightly. “Yes, and I swear totally not drunk. To prove it, let’s get married right here in Vegas.”
“Chance, only drunk people tie the knot in Vegas.”
He was not helping his case here. No way would he marry me in Vegas. His mother would kill him. My mother would kill him. Then my brothers would help them bury him in the woods.
He didn’t move, and neither did I. A stale breeze blew in around us, and a chill set in from the lack of sun, but we were in a standoff.
“Okay, let’s do it,” I called his bluff. Chance wouldn’t actually marry me in Vegas.
But what if he did?
Chance smiled and turned me around, heading back to the street.
“Where are we going?” I asked.
Cars were slowly inching down the road, the pedestrians walking faster than the moving vehicles.
He stuck his hand in the air and stepped into the street right in front of a yellow taxi. I didn’t know that taxis even still existed, but Chance was a man on a mission, so I didn’t stop to question it.
The driver waved us in, and Chance opened the back door, letting me get in first.
“Take us to the nearest chapel,” he said with a death grip on my hand.
