Chapter 11
One Month Later
Aria
Ilook at the time on my watch—I have another five minutes of my break before I have to go back to work.
Five minutes is enough time to make rice according to the box I bought last night, so I should be able to do a quick search. I just have to open my web browser, type a few words into the search bar, and scroll through what comes up. No big deal. People do it all the time.
If it’s no big deal, then why am I hesitating? Why am I overthinking Googling someone?
Who the fuck knows anymore.
Finding myself ridiculous, I tap on my web browser and type land recently bought for sports team Las Vegas into the search bar and wait a few seconds for the results to populate.
The very first link is purpled out from when I clicked on it a few weeks ago, thinking that I would get some information on Elliot.
As it turns out, the article was about a whole different billionaire also looking at buying land there a few years ago.
Apparently, Las Vegas has become the capital for moving sports teams.
Even though I already read through the article more times than I can remember, I still click on it to see if it was updated. Nope, nothing.
I let out a loud groan. Thank God I’m still in my car, because anyone hearing that would have been embarrassing.
I click out of the article and check the time. I have three more minutes, so I decide to search something else.
Elliot, rich guy, Las Vegas.
Super fucking vague, but I’m working with limited information here.
The page populates, and once again, a bunch of useless information comes up. Apparently, the name Elliot is a common as hell name in Las Vegas. Who the fuck knew?
Looking at the time, I let out another groan, but this time, instead of searching up something else, I lock my phone and open my car door.
As I make my way out of the parking garage and into the hospital, I mentally check myself for being disappointed about not finding information on Elliot.
Before we went our separate ways, I could have asked for his phone number, or at the very least his last name, but I didn’t. Well, more like I didn’t want to.
I liked the whole not really knowing who the guy was thing. I liked that he was a stranger, because if I had asked for those things, I would have been disappointed when the connection we had turned out to be nothing outside of the Vegas lights.
But now, I’ve been spending the better part of the last three weeks trying to find information on him. Why?
I…I don’t know, but with every internet search I do, nothing comes back.
The solution is in the palm of your hands. You could ask.
I could very much do that, since my lovely best friend went to Vegas to get over a breakup and left with a literal husband!
That is still very much mind-blowing. Apparently, after leaving me and Santos at the Wynn, Leo and Serena went out and found a damn wedding chapel so they wouldn’t have to say goodbye once the weekend was over.
To say all parties were shocked would be very much an understatement.
Now, my best friend has a husband—one who wants to divorce her, by the way—and said husband’s friend knows Elliot. He’d probably help me track him down.
But track him down for what?
To have more sex?
To start a relationship I’ve told myself for years I don’t want?
For all I know, dude is married with a family, and I was his weekend gateway.
No. As much as I want to believe that, Santos would have told me—at least, I would like to think he would’ve. We were best friends for a few days, after all.
So what do I want to come from this? Why do I keep trying to find an inch that leads me to him?
I don’t know. To pass the time when I’m bored?
If I truly think about it, I think I know my answer.
Elliot and I may have only known each other for a few hours, but in those fleeting minutes, he made me feel wanted, like I was more than just someone he could have a good time with.
He made me feel…a lot of things, and I think I’m trying to find him to see if what he made me feel was real or just a ploy to get me to sleep with him.
I want to believe it was real, I do, but it’s hard.
I guess I can thank all the guys who came before him for all the trust issues, including my biological father.
Thinking about my daddy issues is not a good thing when I’m about to walk into a department full of kids and parents.
Trying to put all thoughts of Elliot and my father out of my head, I start going through my grocery list.
Since Serena is married—still a weird thing to think about—and basically living in Mexico now while commuting by plane to Austin, I’m essentially living alone. And living alone, along with my schedule, has me eating like crap. I’m pretty sure I’ve eaten Taco Bell at least three times this week.
I need to change that. Making a grocery list is the way to go. The image of sliced mango with some sal y limón pops into my head, and my mouth starts to water. That’s going to the top.
I’m trying to think of what more I need to add and what I have at home when something hits my feet, tripping me. Suddenly, I’m falling to the floor. My hands save me, and all I can hear is my mom telling me I have two left feet.
“Great,” I sigh, feeling a little out of breath. My eyes rake over my surroundings, trying to find what I tripped over. I spot a toy dinosaur on the ground. One of the kids must have dropped it.
I narrow my eyes. How the actual hell did something so tiny bring me down?
“Fucking tiny din–”
“Are you okay?” a male calls out from a few feet away, scaring me a bit.
I look up to find a guy with a teddy bear in his hands, dressed in light gray slacks and a baby blue button down, looking down at me like he’s trying to figure out if he should help me up or just walk away.
Forgetting about the mini dinosaur, I give the guy a smile and push myself up to sit. “Yeah, I’m fine. I never thought a dinosaur would ever take me down, but here we are.”
He gives me a look that tells me he thinks I’m crazy. “What?”
I let out a strained laugh and point to the toy. “The huge ass dinosaur that took me down.”
His eyes travel down to where I’m pointing, and he lets out a laugh of his own. “You have to be careful with those dinos. You never know when one of them is going to take you out.”
“Yeah, I’ve learned my lesson,” I say, pushing myself up. Thank God I fell on the linoleum and not the concrete in the parking garage. I do not want to deal with scrapes today.
“Here, let me help you.” The guy comes closer, shifting the teddy bear to the side and holding out a hand for me to take.
I slide my hand against his, and a shock hits my palm, causing me to quickly pull my hand back.
Right away, he’s apologetic. “I’m sorry, I guess the bear is staticky.”
“It’s fine. Thank you for helping me, though. I appreciate it.”
“Of course. I’m Jack.”
Jack. He does in fact look like a Jack—and a cute one too.
I give him a smile. “Nice to meet you, Jack. I’m Aria.”
Why does this feel like a not-so-simple introduction?