Page 41 of Summer with My Sexy Ex
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We getthe first few quickly, with time passing like a montage in a romantic comedy movie. Wyatt even gets two items covered by the same person: Kiss from a drag queen and being given a feather boa.
We send proof via an app and get standings in return.
But I only care about Wyatt and me, then Pete and Amy.
Currently, we’re in third place. But Pete and Amy are in fifth, so I’m not worried.
“You realize one of us is pole dancing tonight, right?” Wyatt grabs my hand and holds it as we head down Tropicana Avenue. The night is warm but not uncomfortable, with a slight breeze that feels almost tropical, even though I know it’s not.
“Not it!” I say.
Wyatt laughs. “That’s not fair. You can’t opposite dibs the tasks.”
“Sure, it is. I’ve already done most of them alone. And what the hell is opposite dibs?”
“You have not,” he says. “Like what? And opposite dibs is what you just did—called out what you didn’t want. Dibs is what you do want. Opposite dibs is what you don’t.”
“Uh, let’s see, I’ve got the map, the motorcycle picture, the menu, and the celebrity chef restaurant. I don’t think opposite dibs is a thing.”
“I feel like the menu and the celebrity chef should only count for one since they were from the same place—”
“Then your drag queen kiss and boa would only count for one,” I smirk.
“Okay, fine. You can take it. But I gave you a piggyback ride, got the feather boa, kissed a drag queen, and took a selfie with the blackjack dealer. It looks like we’re even, sweetheart. And opposite dibs is totally a thing.”
“Fine back.” I wave my free hand in the air, pretending I don’t care because I also need todosomethingso I don’t squeal over him calling me sweetheart. And, I know, go ahead and say I’m a total pushover, sucker, and easy target. Take your pick. I have no defense. Clearly, I have vacated Camp Hate Wyatt for the evening.
We cross the street and see a couple posing for a picture with a gold-painted street performer. Wyatt looks at me, brows raised. I nod. As though we’re of one mind and not the kind that Pete and Amy practice, we sneak behind the trio and simultaneously make silly faces.
Which scares the shit out of the couple if the way the woman screams is any indication. It’s Vegas. They should expect things like this. Once Wyatt explains what we were doing, they airdrop a copy of the photo we bombed. Turns out it’s not a very good one, anyway. I’ve got my hand in the air, covering half of Wyatt’s face. Then there’s a glimpse of the top of my head, but at least we’re still there.
“I guess that makes it your turn then.” I smirk.
“I’ll make you a deal.” He stops on the sidewalk and pulls me toward him until our chests are touching and his hands are clasped behind my back. My body heats as my mind returns to that kiss earlier tonight.
It. Was. So. Hot.
At one point, I thought I’d vacated my body and teleported to a dreamland of bliss with cooling clouds that felt good against my heating skin.
Oh. Wait. I think the edible has kicked in.
I feel a little loose.
Or not as tightly wound.
Something tells me edibles weren’t a smart idea when I’m alone with Wyatt and not currently residing in Camp Hate Wyatt.
He tucks a stray curl behind my ear and lets his fingertips caress my cheek. I really like it when he does that.
“Your hair is so soft,” he says.
I look at his cheekbone instead of his eyes. “It’s my deep conditioner,” I admit.
If I look him in the eye, I’m afraid he’ll capture me in his spell, like those snakes who hypnotize people.
Or is it the snake charmer that does that?
