Page 31 of Vegas with my Ex’s Best Friends

Andrew steps out carrying four hard seltzers, two in each hand, still cold enough that condensation is running down his fingers. Ethan is right behind him, shirt already off, sunglasses on, looking like he’s decided Saturday is happening whether the rest of us are ready or not.

“Spotted you two from the gym,” Andrew says, completely unbothered, setting the drinks on the table between our chairs. “Couldn't let you have all the fun without us.” He pops one open and holds it out to Riley with a grin. “Hard seltzer?”

I lean back. Riley glances at me—just for a second—then takes the can. “Sure.”

“Obviously,” Ethan says, dropping into a chair and tilting his face toward the sun like he's reintroducing himself to it, “It's a travesty we haven’t been able to enjoy this pool more.”

“I've been working,” Riley says.

“It's Saturday,” Andrew says.

“That's what Liam said.”

“Liam's right.” Andrew leans back in his chair and cracks his own can. “Rare, but it happens.”

“Thank you,” I say.

“Don't push it.”

Riley laughs and I stop waiting for the afternoon to go wrong.

Andrew takes one pull from his can and launches straight into a rant.

“Three hours late,” he says. “Shows up with the wrong materials and acts like I'm supposed to be impressed.”

Riley leans forward like this is the most fascinating story she's ever heard. “How wrong?”

Andrew lets out a breath through his nose. “Tile instead of stone. Beige Tile.”

She blinks. “That feels aggressively wrong.”

“That's what I said.”

“Like he just grabbed whatever was on sale and hoped for the best?”

Andrew points at her. “See, this is why designers don't get invited to job sites.”

She grins. “I'm just trying to understand how someone survives adulthood with that level of confidence.”

I’m enjoying all of this—the noise, the arguing, the way Riley fits into it like she’s always belonged with us.

Ethan snorts. “Dry heat's the real enemy anyway. Doesn't matter what materials you use if the sun is going to bleach them in a season.”

“The heat isn’t that bad,” I say immediately, because it's funnier to argue with him than agree.

Ethan turns his head toward me slowly. “You've lived here four weeks.”

“Exactly. I'm basically a local.”

Riley laughs, the sound bright and loose, and Andrew shakes his head like we're all idiots.

It's stupid. Pointless. Loud—Andrew arguing, Riley laughing, Ethan already shaking his head.

And it's the first time in weeks, it actually feels like a day off.

At some point Andrew says, “Whoever's been in the pool least since we got here has to jump in first.”

“That's Riley,” I say immediately.