I don’t dare search for her with my eyes. Not when my mind is replaying how this all started a few years ago.
Glaring at my mother, I’m not impressed with this set-up as she sits by my side in the theater while we wait for the show to start. “Why the hell am I here again?” I ask her.
She adjusts her sunglasses resting on the top of her hair framing her face. “Because we are neighbors and friends. Everyone on our street supports one another. We go to Hudson’s football games, everyone comes to your hockey games, and now we are here for Spencer and April and for their daughter.”
“I come home for the weekend, and you have me watching little kids in tutus.” I’m very unimpressed.
My mother leans in. “If you stay in our house for the weekend, then you follow our rules,” she chides.
“I’ll go stay at the Dizzy Duck Inn,” I counter.
Her frown informs me that she isn’t having it. “You can suck it up for an hour or two. Besides, you missed Hadley’s eighteenth birthday party.” She stresses the word eighteenth.
“And?” It comes out flat. She’s the neighbor who has crushed on me for years. Sure, I’ve noticed that she’s no longer a little girl. Instead, she’s easy on the eyes, and I’ve done my damnedest to block her out of my head when she shows up to any family gathering or party I used to throw at my parents’ house.
The lights flicker, indicating that the show is about to start. I lean in to whisper to my mother, “This is my chance to escape.”
She grips my arm, preventing me from standing. “No, you won’t.”
I begin to grumble, but the curtain rises and music starts, an alternative rendition of a song by The Police. My eyes land on the ballerina dancing solo on her pattering toes in her pointy slippers, and my lips twitch when I notice there isn’t an ounce of baby pink on her like you would expect. Her shoes are blue satin, and everything else on her tight body is black. Her hair partly up and her eyeliner strong, she’s beautiful and mesmerizing as her leg stretches into the air in a long line. My eyes adjust to register that it’s Hadley. My breath cuts when I realize my fear has come true.
She’s worth looking at, roping me in, and now is entirely legal.
Suddenly, I’m invested in this dance show.
I don’t need to glance to my side, and I couldn’t tear my eyes away even if I tried. My mother gently clears her throat. “Thought so,” she mumbles. I hate how she can read my mind; she walked me into this trap willingly.
Hadley spins in a turn, and when she lands perfectly on her feet, I swear that for a mere second our eyes connect, with the bright stage light sparking in the corner of my eyes.
The light of a match. That’s what this is.
Blinking, I bring myself into the present when someone clinks a glass. “All right, everyone, we have a birthday to celebrate and Vegas to conquer. Tequila, anyone?” The whole group erupts in cheers before someone turns up the music full blast.
It doesn’t take long for things to spiral from there.
It’s when I turn my head that I see, across the room, Hadley is clearly in good spirits, sucking on a slice of lime, and I realize it’s near enraging that she can be the life of a party. She’s laidback, doesn’t try to be anything she isn’t, a free spirit, complete with a kind heart—as long as it doesn’t involve me. Her presence here isn’t because of who’s here or that she wants to be associated with a name; she’s here because she wants to enjoy life.
Watching her is glorious torture.
Curiosity gets the best of me, and I stand up to walk casually in her direction, partly to annoy her and the other part giving me one hit of enjoyment.
In the process, a random woman touches my arm. “Con, you should totally go in the pool with us,” she coos.
I don’t even bother giving her a look. “Nah, I didn’t come to Vegas to go swimming,” I say.
Briggs arrives by my side and throws an arm around my shoulder as he holds a bottle of tequila in his other hand.
The woman tries not to show her disappointment. “Who knows where the night will go, right?” Her blonde hair flicks in front of me as she spins to turn her attention to a friend.
My quest leads me closer to my target. Hadley peers up to meet my eyes with disapproval. “Go away,” she groans in warning.
Briggs fills her empty shot glass. “You two better get it together. We haven’t even hit the club yet or sung happy birthday. Call it my birthday wish that you two call a truce.”
“As the responsible one, he’s right, Hadley,” I say, sounding condescending.
“Spare me. Oh look, there’s a stripper pole in the room. Let me go experiment with my life choices.” She begins to walk, but I step in her way.
“Sure, we both know you love to make daddy proud,” I say, and I don’t know why.
