We fall into an easy rhythm after that—talking about setlists, preshow rituals, the weird Vegas energy that makes everyone feel like they’re one win away from destiny. He tells me about the team’s curfew, the media crush, how his roommate snores loud enough to shake walls. I tell him about Drew accidentallybreaking a guitar string mid–sound check and swearing in front of the tech crew like a man possessed.
It’s ordinary and electric all at once.
When the plates are cleared, he reaches for the check before I can move.
“Ollie—”
“Don’t even start. You covered breakfast last time.”
“Barely. You had toast.”
“And emotional baggage,” he says, grinning. “That counts as a side.”
I can’t help but laugh. “Fine, Captain. Your win.”
He pays, and we step outside into sunlight sharp enough to make my eyes water. The air smells like dust and heat. A dry wind pushes at the street banners until they flap and snap like applause.
We walk without talking for a few blocks, just shoulders brushing, hands occasionally bumping until finally his fingers hook around mine. It’s quick, almost hidden, but it feels like a shout.
“Can’t believe I’m holding hands in Vegas,” he murmurs.
“Scandalous.”
He laughs quietly. “Feels… good.”
“Yeah,” I say. “It does.”
We duck into a side alley between a closed souvenir shop and a cheap hotel. Out here, the city noise fades; even the sunlight seems to dim. He stops and turns to face me.
“I shouldn’t,” he says softly. “Anyone could?—”
“No one’s looking.”
He hesitates, then leans in. The kiss is gentle, almost shy at first. Then deeper. Slower. His hand finds my jaw; mine slides to his hip. The world shrinks to the sound of our breathing and the faint buzz of a neon sign overhead.
When we part, his eyes are half lidded, his smile dazed. “Every time, it gets harder to stop.”
“I know.” My thumb drags across his bottom lip. “We’ll have time later. I promise.”
He swallows. “You really think so?”
“I do.”
He lets out a long breath. “You’d better text me after the show. I want details. Setlist, crowd description, everything.”
“You’ll be the first to know.”
“Good.” He straightens, hood back up. “I’ve got meetings, film review, all that before my flight. But—” He glances around and lowers his voice. “I’m glad we got this. Even if it’s just an hour.”
“An hour with you beats a day anywhere else.”
He laughs under his breath. “You and your lines.”
“Only when they’re true.”
He steps closer again, forehead almost against mine. “You’re gonna kill it tonight, you know that?”
“I hope so.”
