All In Vegas

1. Chapter 1

Grayson

When I was twelve, I asked my best friend to marry me.

I didn’t really understand what marriage was, but my mom and dad were married, and they did everything together—they still do.

They said they were the best of friends, and they acted like it.

Every movie night was spent with them tangled in each other’s arms, and neither of them would go to bed without the other.

They even got to do boring things together—like grocery shopping and running errands.

Spending that much time with Harlow seemed like it would be a dream.

There’d be no one to tell us we couldn’t have a sleepover. No one to say that we needed to do chores. No one to ground us and keep us apart.

Obviously, I didn’t quite understand that marriage was more than just hanging out and being the best of friends. And that’s why, when I turned sixteen and realized I still wanted all of those things and so much more with him, I asked him again.

He said we were too young to think about marriage, but to ask him again when we turned twenty-five, and we could get married then.

There’s a soft knock on my bedroom door, then Harlow pushes it open and pokes his head inside, his blond hair wild and sticking up in a hundred directions.

It always gets like this by the end of the night.

He can load it with product and style it for hours, and it doesn’t matter—it always ends up this way.

He raises an eyebrow at me. “Do you have your tux yet?”

My heart slams against my ribs. “It’s the night before the wedding.” He stares at me like that means absolutely nothing to him. “Of course I have my tux. I’ve had it for almost two weeks.”

I mirror his look, raising my own eyebrows.

His concern melts into an easy, breathtaking smile. “Perfect. I don’t know why I’m freaking out so much.”

“Wedding jitters,” I say, trying to smile back at him.

He hums. “Must be.”

Without another word, he ducks out of the bedroom, closing the door behind him.

Harlow wanted to stay true to tradition and spend the night away from his fiancé. I guess that means I get one last sleepover before his big day.

It’s not quite the same as it was when we were kids. For one, he’s not in my room. He’s in my guest room. And two, he’s getting married tomorrow. To someone who is decidedly not me.

Fun.

The door to the bedroom opens again, and Harlow pops his head back in. “Are you gonna stay in here all night? I thought we’d hang out at least.”

I give him a nod and a smile. “I’ll be right out.”

Instead of leaving again, he stands there, his long, slender fingers wrapped around the doorjamb. “Now.”

I never have been able to deny him a single thing, and I know I’m not going to start tonight, so I climb quickly out of bed with a sigh. “Alright, alright. I’m coming.”

The smile he flashes me is almost enough to stop my heart.

I didn’t actually believe that Harlow meant it when he told me all those years ago that we would get married at twenty-five. Hell, we’ve never even kissed.

That doesn’t make the pain of knowing that he’s marrying someone else any better.

I don’t like the guy—Josh. To be honest, I’ve never met a Josh I’ve liked, and he’s no exception. He’s older than the two of us by a few years. He’s a doctor too, which I guess makes him think he’s better than all the people around him.

“Are you nervous?” I ask as I follow Harlow into the living room.

He shakes his head, but he’s nibbling on his bottom lip. “Thank you for letting me stay the night. I think Josh was a little hesitant about spending the night before the wedding apart.”

“It’s tradition,” I say, even though I don’t give a fuck about tradition.

With a sigh, he sits down on the couch. “I know, which is why I’m here.”

I’ve always suspected that Josh didn’t like me. Never bothered me much. Harlow and I grew up on the same street. We’ve been thick as thieves our entire lives. Josh couldn’t come between us and our friendship if he tried. Besides, it’s not like I like him either.

As soon as I sit down, Harlow’s legs land in my lap, and I have to shift and get comfortable with the weight of them holding me down. “You’re here, though, so I’m guessing you won that fight.”

He glances at me, an eyebrow raised. “I wouldn’t call it a fight. He wasn’t like, a dick about it or anything. Besides, when do I not win?”

Well, Harlow wanted a small, intimate wedding, and he’s getting a fucking clown show. And he wanted everything low-key, and there are going to be hundreds of guests—most of whom were invited by Josh’s parents.

I’ve watched him and his wants be sidelined pretty much the entire time they’ve been planning the wedding… So I can think of a few times he didn’t. Although I guess that’s more or less the family, not Josh himself.

“No. Guess not.”

He sighs again, sinking into the couch. “Do you think something’s wrong with me?”

I whip my head around to face him. “Um… no?”

He’s nibbling on his bottom lip again, his blue eyes downcast. “I feel like maybe there’s something wrong that I’m not more… I don’t know.” He raises his gaze, locking eyes with me. “Excited, I guess?”

“What do you mean?” I ask, my brows drawing together.

With a put-upon sigh, Harlow shrugs. “It’s the night before my wedding, and I’m literally just sitting on the couch with you like it’s a normal Friday night.”

“I’m not sure that means something is wrong with you.

You want to get married, right?” My heart thumps at the possibility that he might not.

It’s truly idiotic of my heart, honestly.

It knows just as well as my brain that wishing for Harlow to tell me he doesn’t want to marry Josh after all is a fool’s gambit.

He’s back to nibbling on his lower lip, chewing on the skin until it starts to peel, so I reach out and tug it free of his teeth with my thumb. “Stop eating your lips. They’re gonna be chapped tomorrow.”

“Ugh, you’re right. I can’t help it.”

I know he can’t. “You never answered my question.”

“I think so. I mean…” Lowering his voice, he shifts on the couch until he’s closer. I’m not sure why. It’s not like there’s anyone else here. “It’s the way it goes, right? He asked, so obviously the next step is getting married.”

“To be fair,” I say, trying to grin at him, though I’m not sure I hit the mark. “I also asked you to marry me, and we’re not getting married. So if being asked to marry someone means the obvious next step is getting married, then Josh is about thirteen years too late.”

Harlow barks out a laugh. “You got me there. But c’mon, that shit wasn’t real.”

I cock my head. “What shit?”

He waves a hand through the air. “Your proposal.”

The words slam into my chest and steal my breath. I force myself to laugh through it, but it comes out a little high-pitched and wrong. “Right. But my point still stands.”

“Ugh.” Picking at the seam of his sweats—thank God he’s leaving his poor, abused lip alone—Harlow glances up at me. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe it’s just wedding jitters. I mean… This is huge, right? Getting married.”

“It is.”

He nods. “Right. So I’m probably just too… I don’t know… jittery to be excited.”

I’m not sure who he’s trying to convince. But judging by the faraway look in his eyes, it’s likely himself.

I place my hands on his thighs, and his attention snaps to me. “You know you don’t have to do this, right? You can just tell Josh you need more time.”

For a split second, relief flashes in his eyes. If I knew him and his tells even just a little less, I’d have missed it. Then he shakes his head. “No. I can’t do that. I mean, the wedding is literally less than twenty-four hours away.”

“Fair enough.” I drum my fingers on his legs, then move my hands, resting them on the couch next to my thighs. “Well, what do you want to do with the rest of your last night as an unmarried man?”

“Wanna watch The Conjuring?”

Fuck, I hate scary movies. “Fine, but if I end up with nightmares, I’m crashing in the guest room with you.” Excitement lights up Harlow’s eyes. Far more excitement than talking about his wedding did. “But we have to watch something funny afterward.”

He rolls his eyes, but there’s a huge smile on his face. It’s not like it should be a surprise to him after all these years. I’ll watch whatever he wants to watch, but I’m also gonna need something after, or I’ll be up all night.

Reaching behind him, he picks up the remote, then turns on the TV, pulling up the movie.

Harlow moves around my house like it belongs to him.

It’s nothing new. When we graduated from high school, we even lived together for a while.

It was an apartment back then, but when he met Josh, he decided it would be best to move in with his new boyfriend, and I decided it would be better to live somewhere that wasn’t full of him and his memory.

But then Josh started residency and has been working long hours, and slowly but surely, Harlow started coming here more and more often, even staying in my guest room a few times a month.

“Are you ready?” he asks, dragging my attention to him and away from my thoughts.

With a sigh, I tug the blanket off the back of the couch, pulling it up around my shoulders so I can use it to hide my eyes if I need to. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

Harlow giggles. “Big baby.”

He hits play on the TV, then leans forward to put the remote on the table.

“I’m convinced all this shit they play at the start is almost as scary as the movie itself,” I say, eyeing the TV warily.

“Wow. You really are a big baby.” Harlow shifts, pulling his legs from my lap and turning around on the couch. He wiggles and shimmies until he’s comfortable, his body pressed to my side and his head lying against my shoulder. My heart thumps wildly.

Sometimes I wish he knew how this affected me. How tactile he is. How much he shows affection through touch.

But I’m not going to tell him. Because having him this close, his scent flooding my nose and the warmth of him seeping into my skin, is infinitely better than going without.

And if he knew… Well, he wouldn’t be snuggling deeper into my side and sighing in relaxation like he’s living his best life.

Hell no. He’d probably run for the damn hills, and he’d be right to.

So I keep my mouth shut; I let him cuddle into me. I try to sit still and soak it in and stare at the TV instead of drawing attention to the way his closeness affects me. Because if there’s anything worse than loving your best friend, it’s him figuring it out.

The living room is bright when I peel my eyes open. Harlow is sprawled across my lap, his legs thrown over mine and his face tucked against my shoulder. His hair is even more wild than it was last night.

I can’t help but grin. “Hey.” I nudge him. “What time is it?”

He sits up abruptly, his eyes flashing with alarm. “Uh… What?”

“The time…” I shake my head, working myself out from underneath him so I can reach my phone. “Fuck.”

“What?”

“We need to get to the venue.”

“Fuck!” Harlow jumps up like his ass is on fire, his head whipping back and forth as he looks around in confusion. “What time is it?”

“It’s almost ten.”

“Goddammit.” He buries his face in his hands, a groan echoing in his throat. “I was supposed to be there at nine.” His head shoots up, his blue eyes widening. “Josh is gonna lose his shit.”

I barely manage to stop myself from rolling my eyes. “He’ll get over himself. The ceremony doesn’t even start until five. You have plenty of time.”

Harlow doesn’t look convinced.

“Alright.” I place a hand on his shoulder. “You go get your stuff, and I’ll grab my tux, and we’ll go.”

He nods, and the motion has his hair flopping on his head. It’s adorable, and it makes me grin. He must feel it because he frowns. “Ugh. I need to fix my hair.”

“Don’t you have someone doing that?” I ask, scrunching my nose.

There’s a tense moment of silence, then he nods again. “Yeah, you’re right. Yeah. Okay. Let me just—” He runs off without another word, disappearing into the guest room.

I step into my room, pulling my tux out of the closet.

When we meet back in the living room, Harlow is dressed in a pair of skintight jeans and a black sweater, his overnight bag slung over his shoulder as he looks at his phone.

He’s biting at his lip again, so I walk over to him and work it from between his teeth, then wipe away the small bit of blood there from how hard he was biting it.

He blinks up at me, anxiety radiating in his blue eyes. “You ready?” I ask.

His throat bobs, clicking audibly as he swallows. “I guess.”

It’s his damn wedding day. He shouldn’t look so afraid. He shouldn’t be nibbling a hole through his bottom lip from nerves. My stomach lurches. I wonder if it would ruin our friendship if I told him I didn’t want him to do this.

I shake those thoughts away. Harlow is happy. And in love. And I’m happy for him. And also in love. But that’s not his problem. That’s not his problem at all.

I gesture to the door. “Let’s go.”