We keep walking down the strip. I don’t think we’re headed anywhere specific, but it’s slow going because Chad stops at literally everything. A street magician tries to guess our birthdays. Chad stops to get his picture taken standing on a platform while a moving camera spins around him. A promoter tries to get us into a gay club, and for some reason, Chad really puts up a fight when I say no to that one.
“Oh! Look at that!” He gasps as we approach another crowded area. I look more closely at the outdoor bar; it’s done up to look like some sort of fairy tale forest or some shit. There are string lights hanging from fake trees, and each of the tables looks like a tree stump with mushroom-shaped chairs surrounding it. Chad pulls me up to the bar where the menu has a bunch of strangely named shots themed after woodland creatures.
“Absolutely not,” I say firmly. I don’t know if I would claim that I’m already hammered, but I’m definitely feeling the effects of what I’ve drank tonight. And Chad has had even more than me. If he gets any drunker… is that even a word? Drunk-er…? More drunk…? Either way, if that man consumes any more alcohol, I’ll probably have to carry him home. I don’t want to do that. He’s a big guy with a lot of muscles. Annoying muscles that keep demanding my attention. Why does he look so good?
Chad drags me over to a table instead of the bar, and I’m pretty sure I said no to us going here, but I guess I was too distracted to actually stop him.
A petite woman in neon fishnets and a tutu that doesn’t at all fit the whole theme of this bar comes up and asks for our order. Chad beats me to answering. “Two of your finest shots, Madame Bartender.”
I grab his wrist on top of the table. “No more shots.”
He looks from where my fist is wrapped around his wrist up to my face, shrugging. “One shot.”
I attempt to glare at him. Usually people aren’t this good at ignoring all my glaring. I’m intimidating, damn it. “No.”
“Half a shot? Oh, yes, we can share! I’ll sip then you can sip. Just a sip, John. Just the tip.” He laughs, talking himself into dick joke. When I don’t join him in laughing, he looks at me with those impossibly big blue eyes and the goofiest grin, and to my horror, I lose control of my expression. The harsh look I’d been giving him melts away as I snort a short laugh.
Fuck me.
I sag on my mushroom chair and take two twenties out of my wallet, looking up at the waitress, who, to her credit, looks amused by our exchange instead of annoyedlike I’m sure I would be in her shoes. “Fine, two shots of tequila. You’re gonna feel terrible in the morning,” I remind him.
“Sounds like a future Chad problem. Plus, I have you. You can take care of me.” He smirks before winking again. “Don’t forget who you’re sharing a bed with tonight. It’s me, babe.”
“You guys make a hot couple,” the waitress says unabashedly before she starts to walk away.
“We’re not?—”
“Thank you!” Chad calls out, looking really proud of himself. “We really do! And he has his dick pierced!”
“That’s it,” I say louder than I meant to, reaching across the small table to cover his mouth with my hand as I stare at him with wide eyes. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” He licks my hand, and I pull it away as quickly as I can. “Seriously?”
“Huh?” he asks innocently. His permanent smile is somehow still on his face.
“You can’t just go around telling people about my dick,” I hiss, ignoring the licking thing because I probably should have expected that. “You’ve told half of Vegas!”
I’m not really upset, but damn, this is the most time I’ve spent with another human in a long, long time—why does it have to be one that has absolutely no filter? I’m usually a very private person, and Chad wouldn’t know privacy if it smacked him in the face.
“Oh, right, because it’s only for me to see tonight.” He winks in an over-the-top, exaggerated way.
The waitress returns with the shots, and before Chad can take another shot he obviously doesn’t need, I reach for both, slamming them back quickly without really thinking it through.
“Hell yeah! Tha’s more like it,” he slurs, the slushie and double marg probably catching up with him. I’m really glad I made him chug that bottle of water at the last spot. “Fun John might just make an appearance tonight after all.”
I snort, shaking my head as I stand to leave. Chad trails behind quickly until he can catch up and interlace his hand with mine yet again. We continue walking down the street, and when we have to wait at a crosswalk, Chad pulls me to face him. I look at him expectantly, waiting for another outlandish suggestion, but it doesn’t come.
Instead, he smiles before leaning in to wrap his arms around my neck. On the middle of the street. On the strip in Vegas with hundreds of people around us.
“Chad, what the fuck are you…?” I start, unsure what’s happening right now as he stares at me.
“Shhh,” he says, dragging his hands down my chest before leaning into me and wrapping his arms around my waist as he pulls me in for a hug, resting his head on my shoulder. “So nice.”
I should obviously push him away. Forcibly take him off me. And I really do intend to do that, but maybe I’m more drunk than I thought, because even though I’m internally screaming at myself to put distance between me and this infuriating, sexy man, I’m somehow wrapping my arms around him instead.
It feels… nice? To hug someone. His casual intimacy is unlike anyone else I’ve ever met. He told me he’s a touchy drunk, but he’s touched me a lot throughout this trip when he wasn’t drinking. He put his hand on my thigh during brunch. He tried to hold my hand to get me into the pool with him, he straddled me and laid his wet body over mine when he was totally sober. He leaned into me on the way back to the penthouse, and sat next to me again at dinner.
So. Much. Touching.
He pulls back just slightly and leans in to kiss my cheek again. “I really like you, John. Maybe you’re what will make me happy.”
