Chapter 16 What Happens in Vegas
WHAT HAPPENS IN VEGAS
ARTEMIS
Istood in front of my closet, holding up different tops and trying to decide which one said “casual movie date but maybe we'll kiss after.” I held them out to Holly who was curled up at the foot of my bed. “Which one do you like better?”
She said, “Meheheh.”
“I agree. They are kind of meh.”
My phone buzzed which made Holly jump about three feet in the air. When she landed she tried to eat it. I barely grabbed it from her in time. Through the goat slobber I couldn't see who it was from. I was going to have to invest in wet wipes. For now my duvet cover would have to suffice.
TYSON
Hey, I'm so sorry but I have to cancel tonight. My sister's cat's groomer's cousin's mom just flew in and she's lost somewhere on Rodeo Drive and I'm apparently her only hope. Rain check?
I stared at the text, waiting for disappointment to hit. Instead, all I felt was... relief? Which was weird because Tyson was perfect. Handsome, sweet, built like a god, good with animals, except apparently our new goats, and actually interested in me.
Of course. Go be Obi Wan and save the resistance. Let me know if you need any back up.
Thanks for understanding. We'll definitely reschedule.
I tossed my phone on the bed and sat down, giving Holly some head scritches. Why was I relieved? This was supposed to be our second date, the one where maybe things would actually click. Where I'd feel that spark everyone talked about.
“You're overthinking again.”
I looked up to find Gryff leaning against my doorframe, Vincent tucked under one arm like a football.
“How do you know I'm overthinking?”
“You have that little crease between your eyebrows.” He walked over and sat next to me on the bed, Vincent immediately tried to eat one of the shirts in my hands. “What's wrong?”
“Tyson canceled.”
His face flashed with what looked like pure joy before settling into sympathetic concern. “Oh no. That's... terrible.”
“His sister asked him to go save someone from death by Rodeo Drive.”
“That's awful,” Gryff said, not sounding like he thought it was awful at all. “So terrible. Very bad. Poor Tyson.”
“You're literally smiling.”
“I'm not.” He was. “I'm just... Vincent and Holly are just so dang cute.”
The two of them were eating my comforter.
Before I could call him out on his obvious lie, the front door burst open with a bang that made both of us jump.
“Road trip.” Flynn's voice boomed through the house.
We headed out to the living room where Flynn and Tempest were both wearing Mustangs jerseys and grinning like kids on Christmas morning.
“Pack a bag,” Tempest announced. “We're going to Vegas.”
“Vegas?” I'd never been to Vegas. My mom thought Vegas was where good decisions went to die and people lost their college funds at blackjack tables.
“The Mustangs are playing Thursday night football,” Flynn explained. “Everett called and said he got us tickets. We can drive out, watch the game, maybe stay the night, drive back tomorrow. Oh and pack something fancy. He said something about going out after the game.”
Jules appeared in the doorway with a backpack and a grin. “Get in, losers, we're going to Vegas. I call shotgun.”
“You picked up Jules before even telling us about this?” Gryff looked offended.
“She responds faster.” Flynn shrugged. “Also, she threatened to disown me if I ever went to Vegas without her.”
“It's true,” Jules confirmed. “I have it in writing. Notarized.”
Artie glanced over at me. “What about the goats?”
“Oh, don' t worry,” Tempest said. “Sean and Ren have volunteered to goat and donkey sit. They seem very excited about it. Maybe too excited.”
Thirty minutes later, we were piled into Flynn's SUV, snacks scattered across the middle console and Jules's road trip playlist blasting through the speakers. She'd claimed DJ rights with the authority of someone who'd been preparing for this moment her whole life.
“Okay, ground rules,” Jules announced from the passenger seat where she'd claimed “navigation duties” despite us all having phones with GPS. “Everyone has to sing along to at least three songs. No exceptions. Yes, Flynn, even you.”
“I don't sing,” Flynn protested.
“You do now.” Tempest patted his shoulder. “It's Vegas, baby. Different rules.”
The three of us were in the backseat, but about three minutes into the drive, Tempest suddenly remembered she had a deadline.
“I'm just gonna pop the third row seat, put my noise-canceling headphones on, and see if I can finish these edits before we get to Vegas. That way I can have fun tonight and not worry about how my football player and his lady love have to stay at the inn with only one bed.”
Did she just wink at me?
That left Gryff and me alone in the back, the middle seat between us feeling both too small and too large at the same time.
“I spy with my little eye,” Jules started, “two people in love with each other.”
“Jules,” Gryff and I said in unison.
“What? I spy is a classic road trip game.”
“That's not how you play,” I protested.
“It is now.”
We stopped at a truck stop halfway through the drive, everyone piling out to stretch legs and stock up on road trip essentials.
Gryff disappeared while I was browsing the chip aisle, then reappeared with his arms full of my favorites, strawberry Twizzlers, the cheesy poofs we're both obsessed with, and an enormous neon red slushie.
“How did you know I wanted a slushie?”
“You always want a slushie on road trips,” he said, like this was common knowledge despite us never having been on a road trip.
“We've never been on a road trip together before.”
“No, but you told me about how your mom would only stop at 'approved' rest stops and how you'd always beg for a slushie but she'd say they were just sugar and food coloring.”
He remembered that? I'd mentioned it maybe once, years ago, like in high school.
“So I figured you should have one now,” he continued, handing it to me. “Vegas rules, right?”
“Right,” I said, taking a sip and immediately getting brain freeze. “Vegas rules.”
The rest of the drive was a blur of Jules forcing us all to sing along to everything from Taylor Swift and Kelsey Best to Hamilton. Gryff's thigh pressed against mine in a way that should not have been as distracting as it was.
“You've really never been to Vegas?” Gryff asked quietly while the others were debating the best Elvis song for a theoretical wedding.
“Never. Mom thought it was irresponsible. Too much risk, too much temptation, too much... everything.”
“And what do you think?”
I looked out the window at the desert flying by, the sun starting to set and painting everything gold. “I think maybe a little too much everything is exactly what I need.”
His hand was resting on the middle seat, and without thinking, I let my pinky finger brush against his. He didn't move away.
“Then we'll make sure you get the full Vegas experience,” he said softly.
“What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas?” I tried to make it sound like a joke.
“Something like that.”
We arrived at the stadium just as the sun was setting, the lights of Vegas starting to twinkle to life in the distance.
The Kingman suite was already packed with family.
Mr. Kingman was there with Isak, along with Trixie, Kelsey, Penelope, and Willa.
Even the aunts and grandparents had made the trip, and I was excited to see Coach and Nana again so soon. The house seemed empty without them.
“Artemis.” Trixie pulled me into a hug immediately. “I'm so glad you came. The boys are going to be so excited you're all here.”
The first half of the game was intense, with the Mustangs up by just three points. During halftime, the guys went to get more food, and I suddenly found myself surrounded by Kingman women.
“So,” Kelsey said without preamble, “what's happening with you and Gryff?”
“What? Nothing. We're just friends.” The line I'd said a billion and two times in the past few years just sort of fell out of my mouth.
“Friends who live together,” Willa added.
“And raise goats together,” Trixie chimed in.
“And stare at each other with cartoon heart eyes,” Penelope finished.
“We don't—“ I started, then stopped. Because we kind of did. “It's complicated.”
“Honey,” Kelsey said gently, “complicated is my middle name. Well, actually it's Noelle, but you get the point. Talk to us.”
I looked around at these women who'd welcomed me into their family without question, who cheered for me at rugby matches and sent care packages during finals week, and something in me broke.
“We kissed,” I admitted. “A lot. Like, a LOT a lot.”
“Finally,” Willa exclaimed.
“For practice,” I added quickly. “He was helping me with... trust exercises. To get better at dating.”
The women exchanged looks that suggested they thought I was insane.
“Practice,” Trixie repeated flatly. “Why does that sound familiar?”
“Yes. To help me be more comfortable with physical intimacy. Because I'm bad at it. Especially with men, but also I guess, in general.”
“And Gryff volunteered to help you practice... physical intimacy?” Kelsey's tone suggested she was trying very hard not to laugh.
“It was my idea. Well, Tempest's idea. But I asked him.”
“And how did these practice sessions go?” Trixie asked but as if she already knew the answer.
My face went hot. “They were... educational.”
“I bet they were,” Willa muttered.
“But now I don't know what to do,” I continued, the words spilling out.
“Because the kissing was amazing. Like, earth-shattering, life-changing kissing.
But he hasn't said anything about it meaning anything more than practice, and we just pretend it didn't happen, and now I'm supposed to be going on another date Tyson but all I can think about is—“
“You're in love with Gryff,” Trixie said simply.
“I... maybe? Yes? I don't know.” I buried my face in my hands. “What if I tell him and it ruins everything? What if he doesn't feel the same way? What if I lose my best friend because I couldn't keep my feelings in check?”