Page 120 of Vegas Heat

The text came through a little while ago, and I’ve been pacing around my bedroom ever since.

Cooper left to go to his birthday shindig with his buddies, and I stayed behind to pack an overnight bag and try to come to terms that this is in fact reality and not some crazy dream I’m having.

Cooper:Booked penthouse, Augustus tower. Key waiting for you at concierge. I’ll be up at eleven.

He’ll be up at eleven.

That gives me way too much time to kill.

It gives my brain time to overanalyze every potential detail about this night.

Is this really about making up? Or is it a chance for us to talk to each other without the risk of my dad walking in on us—to have a real and honest conversation about why we can’t be together, or about why he was with his ex yesterday?

Does he want me there naked and waiting?

Or is he bringing friends back with him?

I opt not to be naked and waiting just in case, but even if wewereto somehow get back together, which is what it felt like was going to happen, certainly he wouldn’t flaunt it in front of his friends before we get the chance to talk to my dad.

Maybe I’ve gone nuts and I read something into it that I shouldn’t have.

Either way, in four long hours, I’ll find out the answers.

I pace.

I pack my bag.

I pace some more.

I dance around my room as I try to burn the nervous energy.

I hydrate.

I eat a light meal.

I hydrate some more, dance some more, try to watch a movie but can’t.

Mia texts me.

Mia:Greg wants to see you again.

Me:He’s really sweet but I’m just not quite ready to get into something.

I don’t mention anything about tonight in fear of jinxing it.

Mia:You’re going to break his heart.

I’m not sure why she’s pushing me onto Greg, but I don’t want to be his girl-gamer. She’s just trying to help, I’m sure, and maybe she wants another couple to hang out with, but it’s not going to be Greg and me. It’snevergoing to be Greg and me, and it wasn’t even a possibilitybeforeI met Cooper. Now, though? Even less of a possibility.

Me:I’m sorry.

I leave it at that, and I’m sure she’s mad at me, but I have bigger things on the horizon and she’ll get over it.

And then it’s finally ten-fifteen, the time I told myself would be appropriate to head out.

It’ll give me time to get there, valet my car, and grab the key from concierge before heading up. It’ll give me a minute to check the place out, a minute to take a deep breath and compose myself, a minute to overanalyze just a little more as if I haven’t done that enough over the last four hours.

When I finally arrive and get a valet ticket for my car, I head inside and spot the concierge. I give the man standing there my name, and he hands me an envelope. Inside is a keycard and the room number along with a map to help me find the right tower.

---