I giggle at that. “I doubt it. I think he’s a bit younger.”
“Still. This is wild. So where are you now?” she asks.
“In the bathroom by a private bar. I’m changing into another dress,” I tell her as I look at the gown on the hanger in front of me.
It’s black satin, and I can tell just by looking at it, it’s going to hug every curve of mine to perfection.
“He got you a new dress for the evening?” she blurts out. “Okay, this is for real celebrity status."
“Hang on, Rache,” I say. “Is this weird?”
“For you? Maybe. You never do things like this. But for other girls, not at all. At least not from what I hear.” While my sister is older than me, her life has been arguably more fun and flashier than mine. At least until she got into a relationship. Hence, the need for a little rebellion tonight. She spent her early twenties living it up in Vegas. I spent mine with my nose stuck in books. I need pointers.
“Listen, El. These hotel bigwigs have parties like this all the time, and they love to have cute dates on their arms. Just try to have fun, and keep your location pinned. Just in case, you know?”
“I will,” I tell her.
“And find out who he is!”
I hang up.
All of this feels crazy. Itiscrazy. But maybe that’s what I need. A little bit of crazy.
I change into the dress, and it fits perfectly, which is wild in and of itself. Like all this man did was run his eyes over me and Bam! He knew my size, what would look good on me, and whatI’d feel good in. And what would make Dylan wildly jealous if he saw me.
I smirk at that, fix my hair in the mirror and apply a little more red lip stain before taking a deep breath and heading back into the speakeasy.
The man, who still hasn’t told me his name, is standing by the bar like a statue.
His salt and pepper hair is dark, swooped back, yet one lock of it insistently falls over the mask which covers half his face, just like the Phantom except that it is black instead of white, matching the rest of his fitted black attire. It creates a yin and yang look.
Dark and light.
Good and evil.
With that intent stare and that sharp jawline, I am curious about the dark side.
I approach him, feeling every eye in the room on me.
But his stare is the only one I meet.
His attention is all that matters.
I am drawn to him like a magnet. As I near him, he silently holds out a strong arm, and I take it. He escorts me to the elevator. The doors close, cutting off the sounds of jazz music and soft conversation. The shaft is quiet other than the sound of my own heart beating in my ears.
He turns to stand in front of me and pulls me into another kiss.
This one is deeper, more passionate.
He cups my face in his warm palms hard enough that I couldn’t pull away if I wanted to. Yet, I don’t want to.
When the elevator comes to a stop, the kiss ends.
When he pulls back, his eyes trace my face for half a second before he steps to stand next to me again. He holds his arm out, and again, I take it.
As the door opens, he speaks to me in a low voice. “Don’t be nervous. Just smile.”
The warm Nevada night air hits us as we step out into the starry night. Of course, thanks to city light pollution, it’s not real starlight. The rooftop is covered with strings of fairy lights and the blue-silver glow of the bar. A jazz band plays in the corner as a blonde woman who might as well be Marilyn sings with a silky voice that has every man’s eyes locked on her.
