November 13
Las Vegas, Nevada
Kevin stared at the whirling drum in front of him, watching his clothes tumble behind the glass with every turn.
They’d decided to do laundry today, a slow-paced close to a very busy day.
Yesterday he’d been all by himself. He didn’t want to socialize with people he didn’t know and chose to stay at the hotel the whole day.
However, there was only so much solitude he could bear.
It gave him too much time to think and his thoughts always went back to one night.
Eventually, he’d put an end to his self-inflicted suffering and gone down to the hotel pool.
Swimming had always been a calming escape for him.
Genetically, he wasn’t built for football or basketball.
Team sports in general were not for him.
The solitude of swimming was what held appeal.
He’d been on the swim team in high school, even won a few medals.
There had been some inclination to pursue it further in college, but when his study schedule became too demanding, it tapered down to a mere hobby.
Now it was just a way to clear his head, and yesterday he’d done laps for three hours, allowing the water to soothe him. It worked…but only for those three hours.
Today was a lot better, because Jasmin never really gave him any time to think.
He sort of missed her over the last two days (sort of).
They went to the amusement park and despite his constant protests, she made him go on every ride with her.
Entertainment for kids rather than young adults and, just like the Leonardo museum, it seemed to appeal to her more than drinking and partying.
She’d gone out for an early dinner with the Andys to say goodbye and that was her last bit of Vegas madness. Now they were sitting all alone at the laundromat, watching their clothes swirl and tumble.
Well, at least he was. She couldn’t shut up about the party she went to last night.
“And the dancefloor was massive. There was this black marble across the whole thing. Sleek and beautiful, just not great if you’re wearing heels and you’re a little drunk.
They were playing all this feel-good music.
Black-eyed Peas and Bruno Mars. And the DJ did a whole set from the eighties. He played that Grease medley and—”
He turned to his right to look at her. “If I wanted to know, I would have come.”
She ignored him, as usual, and carried on.
“And I know all the moves for Grease Lightning. I watched that movie a thousand times. I know I’ve only been to one party, so maybe I shouldn’t compare, but Rachel’s party was nothing compared to that.
That’s a bit unfair to say, ’cause Rachel obviously didn’t have the awesomeness of Vegas, but even the music wasn’t that great.
And I’m not dissing her party, it’s just…
I didn’t know parties could be like that.
I’m sure it wasn’t because of the alcohol… though that did make it more fun.”
“Wait. Just hang on,” he said, lifting a finger to silence her. “I have something for you.” Shifting his hips forward a bit, he reached into the pocket of his jeans. He took out what he needed, then grabbed her hand and placed the contents of his pocket into her small palm. “There.”
She looked confused, glancing between him and her empty hand. “Uh…what’s this?”
“It’s all the fucks I give.”
“Ewww!” She immediately flung her hand, tossing his fucks over her shoulder. “That’s gross!” She rubbed her hand down his arm, smearing the remaining residue over his sweater. “You can’t go around putting shit like that in peoples’ hands, Kevin. It’s unsanitary.”
He tried, he really tried to keep a straight face, but a laugh bubbled out of him before he could stop it.
She was so odd and the aftermath of their fallout a few days ago told him that there was a sensitive soul beneath her exterior of indifference, yet she didn’t really take anything he said seriously.
He had an abrupt way of speaking; it was the way he was, but she got him.
When Perry first introduced him to Shandré, she’d hated him because she couldn’t understand his abrasive sarcasm.
It took almost six months before she warmed up to him.
His ex-girlfriends had been the same, though it never lasted six months for them to get to that point of understanding.
But Jasmin just got him. He wasn’t sure if he liked that or not, but it made their relationship less volatile.
And now that harsh words were no longer an option, he mentally made peace with the fact that they’d reached a point where there was nothing he could do to shut her up.
Except…
Except maybe kissing her. That worked well for a few hours.
That, however, was a dumb idea and he wasn’t going to try using that tactic again.
Kissing her was supposed to be a joke, a joke mixed with a healthy dose of curiosity.
If he had to be honest with himself, it was more curiosity.
Her lips begged to be tasted and he’d wanted to know what it was like.
It was just supposed to shock her a little, but the joke was on him.
As soon as his mouth touched hers, it stopped being funny.
Now every time he was around her, it was all he could think about.
Those full, thick lips between his teeth, against his tongue.
They were made to be sucked on. Soft enough to be kissed all day and fleshy enough to withstand any type of abuse inflicted by a ravenous mouth…
his mouth. And every now and then he had visions about them wrapped around his…
He stopped that thought right there. The last thing he wanted was a hard-on in the middle of an empty laundromat.
He needed to get that shit out of his head.
His life was already complicated and he could do without having more complications.
He didn’t want anything, fling or otherwise, with anyone.
Especially not Jasmin. She was all issues, and he didn’t want to be one of them.
He’d gotten a taste of those plump lips and that would just have to do.
“You’re cute when you laugh,” she said offhandedly, “but getting back to my original point, I can now tick off number one from my list. I have tried a mind-altering substance.”
He would probably regret asking, but he was intrigued to know. “What list?”
“I made a list of objectives for this trip and so far I’ve ticked off three.”
“Can I see this list?”
Nervousness twitched across her face, but she reached over and grabbed her knapsack off the floor. She took out a folded piece of paper and handed it to him with an instruction. “Don’t laugh at me, okay?”
He nodded and unfolded the paper. It may have been a tactic to distract herself from impending embarrassment, but she moved her hand to his hair, twirling the short strands around her finger as he began reading.
“Okay, number one: Try a mind-altering substance.” There was tick next to that one and he moved on.
“Number two: Get a tattoo.” There was a tick next to that one as well and he glanced over at her. “You got a tattoo?”
She nodded.
“Where?”
“It’s…it’s uh…in a special place. I’m not gonna tell you.”
She was generally open about everything, so he respected the fact that she wanted to keep it a secret and didn’t question it further.
He pulled her hand away from his hair and brought it down onto his shoulder, keeping his hand over hers so she would stop touching him.
It felt oddly intimate, just sitting there holding her hand, but he brushed it off and made his way down the list. “Number three: Have some sex.” He looked over at her again. “Just some?”
“Yeah, I don’t want to go overboard and turn into a slut.”
He cringed a little. That word really rubbed him the wrong way. Some guys at school used to call Claire that behind her back and it bothered him to no end. If he’d been the type to resort to violence, he definitely would have thrown punches for that. “I’m going to be brutally honest with you.”
“I don’t know you to be any other way.”
“Firstly, let’s just address the term slut.
” Assuming that she got the hint to stop touching him, he let go of her hand before he continued.
“It’s extremely derogatory and if a woman chooses to sleep with a hundred guys instead of one, that’s her choice and she shouldn’t be labelled for it.
So if you want to experiment…responsibly and go butt-wild, that wouldn’t make you a slut.
And don’t ever let a guy tell you otherwise. ”
That speech, just like the kiss, was going to backfire at some point.
He could feel it, because even as he said the words, the thought of some guy putting his hands on her was fucking with his head a bit.
He couldn’t understand it. He wasn’t even attracted to her…
at least not in the traditional sense. Taking heed of what Mandy had said, he put it down as protectiveness and moved on.
“And secondly…” He paused, wondering if he should take the conversation in that direction. “Aren’t you…a virgin?”
The question didn’t even strike her as inappropriate and she answered like he’d just asked how she liked her coffee. “Not really…I can do the splits and that sort of ripped my hymen, so technically I lost my virginity stretched out between two chairs.”
He shut his eyes, trying to rid himself of the images, but they were mercilessly burning themselves into his brain. How could she tell him that, yet her tattoo was a secret? “I don’t…I don’t know why I asked that…I regret it. Forget I said anything.”
“Oh. If you’re asking…in a sexual sense…then yes, I’m still a virgin.”
“So…you think you can go out, meet some stranger, and just have sex with him?”