“Great,” he mumbles, brushing down his vest over a washboard stomach. Sweet goodness.
Eyes up.
“The helmet looks good.” I point to the hard yellow plastic resting over his brow. “Functional.”
“Ready?”
“Yes,” I nearly pant, suddenly too hot myself. I grab my shoes near the door.
Don’t ask why, but I packed open-toe stilettos. They’re black with a four-inch heel and thick elastic bands around the soles. I hate when my baby toes dangle from thin straps like they’rebungee jumping. Not that I wear heels often. I’m a fan of flats, but I figured why not?
I’ve never worn this pair, and we are in Vegas.
At my new height, I’m closer to Antonio’s eyeline. So close I can see the beads of sweat forming under his hat in high definition.
I press the back of my hand to his cheek. “Are you getting a fever?”
He sniffs and shakes his head. “No. Come on.”
I’m guided out of the hotel room by hand. The fanny packs he got us will keep our wallets, phones, and hotel key cards safe for the night—but not my feet. I trip on the lip of the elevator.
“Are you sure you’re good in those?” Antonio directs the question to my shoes.
My nod rattles my hard hat. “Should be. Trying something new, remember?”
The elevator is a glass structure that faces out to the hotel casino. Gamblers come into focus as we descend from the tenth floor. The cold whisper of air conditioning is a reminder of the skin I’m showing.
“Are you sure everyone else is dressing up?” I swallow, determined not to run back upstairs. Well, walk. I don’t doubt I’ll trip over my own shadow.
Antonio squeezes my shoulder. “I promise, Doe.” He turns me to face the glass. “Our night is just beginning.”
Every Steel player is shirtless in construction vests, hoochie shorts, and Timbs. A few wave from the cluster of yellow hard hats as our elevator comes into view.
They yell in unison at Antonio, who presses one hand to the glass and body rolls. The muscles in his abs contract as he thrusts his hips toward the ceiling.
“What are you doing?” I cackle.
His head tips back to flash a grin. “Getting the party started.”
I am no better than a man.
With the amount of legs, wings, and thighs on display, it’s a miracle I haven’t run into a wall or tried to order a to-go box. I did trip into the private bathroom, but that’s unrelated.
Hundreds of bodies grind to the Ying Yang Twins’ “Shake” under the glow of LED lights. Rugby teams from across the country have invaded the nightclub, wearing every costume imaginable. There are elves, scuba divers, cheerleaders, and vampires. Flooding the Spirit Halloween fashion show are the hard hats that took over the dance floor three songs ago.
It’s pointless to count the number of times my eyes gravitated to Antonio. Even in a crowd of contoured back muscles and a buffet of booties, I still find him. When he’s not laughing, he’s pulling out every ’90s dance from the vault. The man knows how to move his hips, and how to annoy me every six minutes.
I’m not upset, but I did banish him from the VIP suite he insisted on renting. Yes, it’s as extravagant as it sounds.
The skybox isn’t too far up from the main floor, but I’m the only one using it. Antonio, too, before I told him to go hang out with his team. I was perfectly fine blending into the back wall for the rest of the night without special accommodations. My discomfort and mild panic couldn’t get cozy before I got a pat on my hard hat and a “No.”
Who needs bottles of wine and a snack board all to themselves? Scratch that. I appreciate a good rosé and some sea salt pretzels. I had a glass in his honor. Three, to be exact, and counting. I feel nice, cocooned from the chaos of the big crowd and able to enjoy myself with snacks and wine.
The music changes to Faith Evans’s “Love Like This.” Fists holding twenty-dollar bills reach for the ceiling as confettiexplodes into the humid cloud of sweat and pheromones. From my perch on the balcony, I have a full view of the bumping and grinding below. I’ve dipped it low from up here with a drink in the air.
Bread jogs out of the private bathroom, waving his hard hat. “Don’t go in there for thirty minutes. Forty to play it safe.”
Ew.
