“Thought we were outrunning a hangover.”
“We are,” she says, already tugging me toward the bar. “This is part of the strategy.”
“Sounds like a terrible plan.”
“The best ones always are.”
We squeeze in between bodies, the heat of the room settling in fast.
She leans against the bar, hair falling over one shoulder, and I step in behind her without thinking. Too close. But not close enough to step back.
“What are we having?” I ask.
“Something strong,” she says. “And irresponsible.”
I glance at the bartender. “Two of whatever that means.”
He nods like he’s heard it before.
Scarlett tilts her head back slightly, looking up at me over her shoulder. “You always this agreeable?”
“Only when I know it’s a bad idea.”
She smiles, slow and dangerous.
“Good,” she says. “Because I have a feeling tonight’s going to be full of them.”
The drinks land in front of us.
She grabs hers, tapping it lightly against mine. “To Vegas.”
“To bad decisions,” I answer.
She laughs, and we drink. The burn hits fast.
Warmer this time. Easier. Like the edge is already gone.
She exhales, eyes closing for just a second. Then she turns, facing me fully now. Close enough that I don’t have to reach to touch her.
I don’t. But I think about it. A lot.
“You okay?” I ask.
She nods. But her gaze doesn’t leave mine.
It should be awkward.
Instead, it feels right.
“Better than okay,” she says softly.
Something in my chest tightens. Because I don’t believe her. But I want to.
“Come on,” she says suddenly, grabbing my hand again. “I want to try something.”
“Pretty sure I’m going to regret this,” I mutter.
She grins. “Probably.” And then she’s pulling me deeper into the casino. And I let her.
