Page 45 of All Bets Are Off

But also, I don’t want him to leave my side. The hour in which the guys were waiting in line to gain entry to Encore Beach Club felt like forever, and I found myself repeatedly glancing toward the entrance, hoping he would appear soon. Is that even normal? To miss my best friend’s brother this much? Theo feels very much like a safety blanket for me this weekend. He just gets me in a way so few people do, and this pool party is hell, and I knew it would be a tiny bit more bearable if I had Theo next to me to focus on.

Marshmello is due on stage in the next twenty minutes, so the rest of the group have headed off to claim a good vantage point up near the DJ booth. Theo didn’t even need to ask if I wanted to go too—he took one look at the crease of hesitation in my forehead and instantly registered my dread. Besides, I can’t name a single Marshmello song.

Now we have our reserved beach couch all to ourselves, and although it’s still pretty rammed around us, there’s at least enough space to breathe.

“I like it when you wear your hair up,” Theo says out of the blue, and I fire him a suspicious look, ponytail swinging.

“My hair is up, like, all the time, Theo.”

“I know,” he says. “That’s why I like it. It’s very Hailey Clark of you.”

“You need to stop doing that.”

“Doing what?”

“Flirting with me,” I murmur, reaching down to grab my drink from the ground to keep my hands busy. “I don’t know how to respond when you do, because after last night, I’m realizing you are flirting and not just messing with me. And I don’t . . . I don’t know what to do.”

An endearingly sweet smile spreads across his face. “You’re a romance writer,” he says, resting an arm along the top of the couch and slouching back a little against the red and orange cushions. There’s something about the backward cap on his head that makes him appear extra boyish today. “I bet your characters flirt, right? Well, that’s you. That’s your brain.”

I don’t like this conversation. I feel, once again, like an alien who can’t figure out the basics, and it’s so utterly embarrassing. “It’s different. I’m really not the kind of woman who’s confident and sexy and if I even try, I feel like an imposter. I feel fake.”

“You don’t have to try to be anything, Hails,” he says in a stern voice. “And also, I strongly disagree with that statement.”

Plumes of smoke explode from the DJ booth as Marshmello, in his silly marshmallow-head costume, leaps into view. It feels like every square inch of Encore Beach Club roars with cheers, and the volume ramps up a couple notches. It’s so damn hot, too, and these vodkas I’m trying to force down my throat taste like gasoline. I check the time on my phone.

“We can get out of here, if you want,” Theo says, sitting forward.

“Didn’t you pay over a hundred bucks to get in here? You better get your money’s worth,” I say, because I can’t be selfish. For as much as I want to disappear into a quiet, dark room to recover from this pool party, I can’t ruin everyone else’s fun.

“Are you enjoying any of this?”

I bite my lip self-consciously and admit, “Um, no, not really. But it’s Addy’s bachelorette—”

“And she’s over there dancing with a drink in her hand and a smile on her face,” he cuts in, nodding over to the hordes of people crowding around the DJ booth. “Don’t worry about Addy. You’ve already done a lot for her by planning all of this and you’ve been here for a solid couple of hours. It’s okay if you need to dip out at this point, because I’m not loving this either. Just look at the pool, Hails. There’s nothing but rogue flip flops and empty cups floating around and probably condoms in there, too. I’m grossed out and I still haven’t been to see the flamingos down at Flamingo yet, so c’mon.” Standing from the couch, he dumps his drink on the table and reaches for my hand, pulling me to my feet. I go willingly.

There’s zero chance of getting anywhere near Addy and the others, so Theo and I sneak out of Encore Beach Club without any goodbyes, which feels extremely rude to me, but he assures me everyone will be so drunk by the time they notice we’re missing that they won’t even care. As we make our way through the exit, we pass by the crazy lines of people still waiting to get in.

“Yeah, it’s only gonna get worse in there,” Theo comments. “Best to make our escape before people start throwing up in the pool. Down here, Hails.” Suddenly, his hand is in mine and he’s guiding me toward the outdoor escalators that take us down onto Las Vegas Boulevard.

I leave my hand exactly where it is, intertwined perfectly with his.

“Can we go explore or would you prefer to head back to the hotel and do some writing?” he asks. “Even though I’m no longer handcuffed to you, I’ll still come with you, but if you’d prefer to be alone, that’s cool, too. Whatever you want, Hails.”

My gaze travels down the strip ahead of us, and I think of all the quirky, fun things that can only be found in Las Vegas that are waiting to be explored, and I decide rather instantaneously that the writing can afford to wait. I’ll deal with that later, because right now I’d rather go wherever Theo takes me.

“I’d like to stay with you,” I decide.

Theo’s face lights up. I’ve never really noticed it before, the way he so unashamedly owns all of his emotions. Most men I know tend to hold their cards close to their chest, naturally playing things cool, and that makes them unreadable for me. Theo isn’t like that. When he’s happy, he beams. When he’s disappointed, his brows pinch and his lower lip juts out ever so slightly. It’s refreshing, honestly, to know exactly how he feels in each and every moment.

We decide to head south down Las Vegas Boulevard, back in the direction of the Cosmopolitan, so that when I’m ready to write, we won’t have strayed too far in the opposite direction from my MacBook—and that makes me feel a lot more comfortable. We walk past a few resorts but only admire them from the outside, until ten minutes later we approach the Venetian and Theo abruptly pulls to a stop, our hands still interlocked.

“Hailey,” he says very seriously, turning to look at me, and my full name on his lips sounds . . . weird. The whole Hails thing is kind of growing on me, finally, after years of enduring it. “Can I take you on the best date of your whole entire life?”

“Date?” I repeat with a laugh.

“Look where we are!”

Letting go of my hand, he stretches his arms out wide, like he’s making some sort of grand reveal. The Venetian hotel sits lavishly before us, themed just like Renaissance Venice, boasting stunning Italian architecture that shines in the sun. Bridged walkways lead into the resort over canals filled with glistening blue water, and a real-life gondola floats by.