Page 33 of Chasing You

Wes

I’m at the bar in the Venetian

I sigh, once again. But fuck it.

Me

be there soon.

As I walk through the chaos of the strip, my eyes glaze over so many different things. Spiderman walks past me, asking if I want a photo, before I nearly trip over a dog running after him. I headstraight for the Venetian, the gigantic hotel lit up so bright my eyes hurt. This whole place is like that—colored lights, music, and chaos. In the years of traveling I’ve come to the conclusion that big cities aren’t for me, I like the calm of somewhere a little quieter than this. Maybe that’s why I spend so much time in my hotel rooms. I’ve never really thought about that until now.

A showgirl in six-inch heels greets me as I pass her and walk through the doors into the hotel. I look down at my feet as I make my way in, hoping to avoid any interactions with anyone. It’s not that I don’t like people, but this isa lotof people. I don’t feel much like talking to anyone here except someone who can point me in the direction of my best friend.

Knowing Wes, he probably left this place and is halfway down the aisle at some Elvis chapel. On second thought, I probably should’ve checked those spots before coming here, but I’m hoping the guy hasn’t hadthatmany drinks yet. But again, I don’t know how much alcohol Wes would really need in his bloodstream before he’d say yes to a Vegas wedding.

Hotels in Vegas don’t look like hotels in other places. They are hotels, casinos, malls, everything all in one. But the particular one that Wes chose for tonight is taunting me. As I walk step after step into the gigantic space, I’m thrown right back to a place part of me wishes I were still in.

A canal flows through the middle of the building, complete with boats for hire, with couples making their way through the center by water. The roof is painted as the sky, so realistic you would barely recognize you are indoors if you’d had a few too many. And the shop fronts, they’re designed to match Italian architecture.

I’m in a makeshift Italy, when where I want to be is the real thing. In a small little town that’s a lot quieter than this, and has the girl I’ve loved for years living right above the only bar in town.

I look around me and have no idea where I’m supposed to be going. “Excuse me,” I lean over the barrier to talk to the manstanding on one of those little boats. “Can you point me in the direction of the bar?”

“Which one?” he asks.

I frown. “How many are there?”

“Eight.”

I roll my eyes. God damnit, Wes. “Is there one that is tuned up to the sports channel?”

He nods before prattling off directions and I weave through the crowds of people for what feels like forever before I finally find it. The place has screens on screens, playing the NBA live. I hear a cacophony of female giggles and I walk in the direction of the sound, knowing I’ll find my friend wherever it came from. And sure enough, I find him sitting on a couch watching the game with a beer in hand and two girls on either side of him, hanging on his every word.

I shake my head. Wesley has always had this draw about him; women flock to him, even worse when he tells them he’s a pilot. They go feral. Like getting into bitch fights over him feral.

His head turns ever so slightly and he catches sight of me. “Heyyyyyy, the captain is out for once!”

I shake my head as I get closer to him. Dude has no concept of his volume levels once he’s got one sip of alcohol in his system.

“Move over, ladies. Make way for the captain.”

Oh my god.

“It’s fine,” I say, but the girls are already making themselves scarce, some of them giving me flirty eyes and the others a deadly case of side eye for taking Wes’s attention from them. I flop down on the couch next to him nonetheless.

He throws an arm around my shoulder. “I can’t believe you actually came out, I was fully expecting you to bail.”

“I nearly did when I realized there’s eight bars in this place.”

“Oh shit, sorry.”

I can’t help the way the corner of my mouth turns up. “It’s fine, got here in the end. What are we watching?”

He rambles off details about the teams and the players and Ijust zone out, my eyes glazing over as I imagine what Marina is doing right now, who she’s with, what she’s wearing, if her body still feels like it did, if it still looks the same?—

“Hi there.” A hand runs over my bicep. “I’m Danny, I’ll be your server tonight. Is there anything I can get you?” she asks, crouched down to look us in the eyes. Her eyes are gorgeous, bright, and blue. She’s objectively pretty, beautiful even.

But all I find myself doing is wishing I were looking into my favorite pair of hazel eyes instead.

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