Page 89 of Sawyer

“My dad’s cycling business. He got us a booth. I’m bringing brochures and—”

“Oh my god, shut up. I don’t care.” I sigh loudly. “Have you ever been to Vegas?”

“Nope.”

“Well,” I say, pushing away from the bar, “it’s a pretty big place. I’m sure you can get lost in it.”

“Is it big enough for both of us?” he asks. “If Alaska’s not, Vegas won’t be either.”

“How about this? If you avoid me,” I tell him, holding out my hand, “I’ll avoid you. Deal?”

He stares at my hand for a second before taking it. When he does, it’s like shaking hands with the Beast fromBeauty and the Beast, right down to the veritable thatch of fur on the back of his hairy fucking paw.

“Deal.”

***

---