Page 59 of Second Down Fake

“I’m sure the flight back will be completely unremarkable. And we’re here! We made it!” I reassured her.

The fasten seatbelt light turned off, and the captain muttered something meant for the flight crew. Seconds later, the attendants opened the doors and grateful passengers poured from the plane. I grabbed my backpack from the overhead compartment before disembarking. A row of slot machines sat in front of us.

“So, do we just hang out here or…” I gestured to the row of little old ladies pulling the handles.

Lena exhaled, shoulders going slack. “I want to get as far away from airports and airplanes as possible.”

We gathered our luggage and jumped into a cab. I excitedly asked the bored-looking driver to take us down the length of the strip. He groaned but changed his trajectory from the hotel to the bright lights of the row of casinos.

I’d crammed in as many odd jobs, tours, and bar back shifts as I could handle to make some extra money for the trip. Still, I expected that ‘enjoying myself’ just meant I’d wander the strip wide-eyed at the sights. But Diego had other plans.

First-class tickets on the plane, a suite at the Bellagio, and instructions to go see a show or three. After showing us the hotel room, our room concierge provided us tickets and dinner reservations for the night. As soon as the concierge left and Lena retreated to her room to unpack, I called Diego.

“Hey,” he answered, voice low. He muttered an “excuse me” under his breath.

“Is this a bad time?” I asked. “I just wanted to let you know we made it.”

“Just watching some game film. It’s fine. I’m glad you got me out of that room,” he said as a door slammed in the background. “I don’t remember which hotel we’re at, somewhere off the strip, but the conference rooms are tiny.”

“How’s your hotel room?” I asked, taking a lap around the palatial suite Diego had booked for us. “Ours has a foyer. A foyer! And a guy named Romeo who said he’s here to serve us.”

Diego laughed. “No foyers here. Just a kitchenette and a view of another hotel.”

I moved to the bay window overlooking the fountain. Jets of water blasted into the air as a crowd of hundreds looked on, little dots on the horizon from my vantage point. “Wow. All I got is a lame view of the fountains and you get a view of another hotel? I’m jealous.”

“What are you doing tonight?”

I sighed, resting my forehead against the cold windowpane. “Staying out of trouble?”

“Sounds like a good plan.”

“Yeah, my fake boyfriend told me that was pivotal to us all having a nice long weekend in Las Vegas.” My chest tightened and an “I miss you,” lingered on the tip of my tongue. I swallowed it back. I missed Diego as a friend. As a guy I hung out with and ate Chinese food with and took over his video games and fell asleep on his couch. “He’s pretty lame.”

“I’ll stop being lame after the game,” he chuckled, his voice low and indulgent.

“That’s forever away.” I wrapped a curl around my finger. “I’ll probably meet someone new, start a new life before then.” His silence stretched on a beat too long and I blushed, stumbling with my words to fill the space. “Dumb joke, obviously. I’m pretty sure that’s a myth, anyway. You can’t just stumble into city hall with some stranger, right? Should I try and find out?”

“No getting married.”

“So, hooking up is okay, marriage isn’t?”

“No. Neither.”

Despite the hotel room and the first-class flight and the show tickets, the urge to tease him proved too strong to overcome. “How about dancing? Do you have any strong feelings about twerking?”

“No twerking. And dance with Lena.”

“If you want to twerk with Noa, that’s all you. I support you fully.”

He sighed, and I imagined him in a hotel hallway, generic pastoral paintings dotting the walls. Diego in a pair of sweats and a Breakers t-shirt, hair mussed and jaw tense, his dark eyes glimmering and his focus entirely on me.

I closed my eyes, forehead hitting cold glass and repeating the motion twice more. Nope. Nope. Nope. Wasn’t this the exact reason I hadn’t given my number to Diego all those years ago when we met in college? The pull to fall into his world was just a little too much. A little too strong. I’d get lost in there.

“Well, the good news is that Lena isn’t much of a dancer. She prefers shows.”

“The concierge booked them for you?”

“Yes. He insisted on using your credit card, too.” Below me, the water fountain cannons moved back and forth, painting circles on the pound. “I picked up some extra shifts. I can actually pay for stuff myself.”

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