Page 8 of Keep Vegas

“Actually my favorite thing about this dress is you in it. But it’s also going to look excellent with you out of it later.” I giggle a bit. The boy has turned me into a giggler. I usually bust out with a guffaw or a throaty laugh, but he’s turned me a little more feminine. He pulls me to the street.

“Are you sure I look ok?”

He squeezes my hand.

We walk another block or two, and his arm is around me. My dress is riding up because of it, and I keep yanking it back down. It really was to stand around dancing. Not walking or, God forbid, sitting somewhere. But I’m sure we’re doing something else after we grab a bite.

“Hey, fancy boy. Why the suit? You look completely yummy, but it’s a bit much, don’t you think?”

Tony wrings his hands. His voice is a little softer than it was a moment ago and I think I’ve offended him with the fancy boy comment. He says, “I have to tell you something.”

That doesn’t sound good.

“You’re thirty-five?” I try to joke around it.

He laughs but it’s hollow sounding. “No. But I’ve had to pretend I was thirty-five since I was five.”

“Don’t understand.”

“I don’t care about it, but people may recognize me at this restaurant.”

I ask, “Are your parents like athletes or actors or something?” I have no idea. His name doesn’t ring any bells. He is movie star handsome, so maybe they are.

“Not actors in the traditional sense. But they have a lot of money. Like old money, not Europe old, but Boston old.” He walks a little slower, and I try to figure out what he means.

I shrug. “I don’t really care. But how rich are we talking? Like you’re buying dinner rich or let’s grab the Chunnel tonight rich?” He exhales, and somehow, I can tell that he needs to know I honestly don’t care. He looks at his shoes, and I duck my head down to capture his eyes.

I speak again so he believes me, “Doesn’t matter to me, I was just teasing. Let’s not talk about it, ok?”

His voice is rough and raspy, “I could buy you an island right now rich.”

We continue to walk slowly, and there’s a big silence caught between us. It’s as if he’s separating us by this ridiculous imaginary wall of money. I won’t have it.

“Who has time to run an island? The politics, the maintenance, and then there are the tourists. No thank you.”

He pulls us to a stop and pushes me up against a wall under a streetlight.

“Hey, watch what you’re doing back there, unless you want to share that view with everyone.”

He kisses me as if I have all the oxygen he’ll ever need in the world. I give as fucking good as I’m getting. I want to wrap myself around him.

“My view. You get that right. I know we just got here, but I don’t want to be with anyone else but you. You’re funny, sexy, and smart.”

Smart? Nobody has ever called me that. I scoff a little. “What? You object to being called sexy?” I smile. “Surely, that’s not it since you chose this dress for our dinner.”

“Again, I chose it to grind up on you in a crowded club where it would blend in,” I remind him.

“Fair.” He removes his glove and traces my lips. I open slightly, and he gasps as I slowly lick my lower lip. Then he slams his lips to mine and holds my face in place. It’s so fucking hot being controlled by this guy who just called me smart. His hand slides up my thigh, and I shiver.

Then I double down and aggressively chase his tongue with mine. I can’t get enough. I’ve kissed a hell of a lot of frogs, apparently. But this guy, holy shit, he can kiss.

He breaks away, putting his hands up, and I come off the wall.

“Are you still interested in dinner?” I gasp.

“I want to take you somewhere as special as you seem to be.”

Not sure how to react.