“You mean,horrified,” Haze says, correcting my pronunciation because he’s a fucking smart ass.
Now is not the time.
“I said what I said,” I snap, and that's all I can say without making a spectacle of myself and drawing attention to where we’re seated. Fucking hell. Why did we wear white? It totally stands out in this lighting. Why couldn’t we have gone with the black button-up I hung up earlier?
“That’s her. That’s Theo’s ex.”
Theo?
Fuck. My. Life.
“Wait, Jovi Jett Stone gave you a handjob? Who the fuck made you God’s favorite?” Haze says, rather unhelpfully.
“I swear, I didn't know who she was,” West says, but he's not looking at anyone but the complete knockout that is Jovi. “Wait, why are you acting all crazy? Do you know her?”
Do I know her? Of course, I know her. She has been the woman of my dreams since we were in grade school. Does she know me, on the other hand? That would be a solidno. Jovi was always way too good for anyone back then, and by the time high school rolled around, she was so unattainable, I resigned myself to the reality that we’d never be anything more than passing shadows in the halls. Besides, her brothers would’ve beat my ass if I even breathed in her vicinity.
“Beau’s had a little crush on her since we were kids. We both have,” Haze offers nonchalantly.
“Little crush?” I scoff. “She's an Aurora Borealis!” If I hadn't seen her with my own two eyes, I'd have believed she was a myth.
“Calm down, lover boy. He always gets like this,” Haze chuckles, looking at West, but pointing to me before turning back to search the menu. He finds everything amusing. “Now, are we going to eat? I'm starving.” Haze says, meanwhile, West and I are caught somewhere between starstruck and emotional collapse. I swallow hard, trying to pull myself together.
“Yeah… Let’s eat.”
An hour later, we're shuffling into the theatre with the rest of the crowd, brushing past bodies and inching our way down the aisles toward our seats. Everything smells like aftershave and expensive perfume and I hold my breath to prevent myself from sneezing. On the bright side, the air-conditioning is on point. The red velvet curtains stretch from floor to ceiling, leaving the stage and everything else in darkness. The only light comes from the walls, where glowing pink hearts drift and flicker about, floating lazily over the seats and ceiling.
“Is this a band or something?” Haze questions, his deep, rough voice sort of faint over the bustling audience surrounding us.
“No. It’s better,” I reply, grinning like an idiot because the guys will probably be bored to death. West gives me what appears to be a doubtful look in the low light, it's hard to tell, but I won't let it kill my vibe. We finally reach our row, third from the front, and squeeze past knees and handbags. Wemutter awkward apologies until we finally reach our seats and I drop into mine with an excited, satisfied sigh. Haze leans back immediately, crossing his arms as if he’s already bored. He's so dramatic.
“You’ll love it. Lighten up, Hazey baby,” I promise, even though I’m suddenly not as confident about that as I was five minutes ago.
“Don’t call me that.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
If they don’t enjoy this, they won’t let me organize another vacation again. I’ve packed every spare second of this trip with something. Shows, excursions… because I don’t just want pictures of things. I want memories with them. Something we can all laugh about for years to come. I refuse to let this vacation fade into the “remember that cruise we went on” category.
I want this to be epic.
“Is it a musical? I swear to fucking Christ, Beau, if?—”
“Shh! It’s not a musical. Can you just not be the bane of my existence for like one hour?” I whisper, and I notice that everyone around us is already staring. West hasn't said more than a sentence since dinner. Since realizing Jovi is here. I’ll leave him to his thoughts, and hopefully the show is enough to loosen him up a little.
The lights dim further, and a hush ripples through the crowd. Haze reaches out to grip my hand, and I look over to see him smiling at me.Aww.
The heart projections spill forward, painting the floor in soft pinks and reds. A spotlight flicks on and a man strides out like a talk show host wearing a bejeweled suit, perfectly styled hair and a grin wide enough to sell veneers.
“Hello, hello, hello, Lovers!” he announces and the crowd breaks out in applause. Everyone except West and Haze, but we knew they were sticks in the mud already. “I'm Daniel Cupid andwelcome to Cupid’s Confessionals, the only game show where honesty is mandatory, dignity is optional and kids, if any of you are in here, you don't want to be.”
“Fucking hell,” West groans, rolling his eyes and sighing the most dramatic sigh in the universe.
“Shhh….”
Once the crowd dies down, Veneers introduces the set and launches into the first half of the show, firing off hilarious jokes that have even West laughing. I'll take that as a win. When the second half rolls around, the host’s assistant wheels out a massive object draped in hot pink silk and every single person shifts nervously in their seats.What am I missing?
“Now, folks,” the host, Daniel, announces, rubbing his hands together mischievously, “we're going to play a little game.” He strolls over and dramatically whips away the fabric, and underneath is a large spinning wheel lit up like a slot machine with a bold, glittering title flashing across the top that says, “Wheel You Regret This?”
