Page 11 of The Forever Experiment

Again, that settling sensation erupts inside my belly, spreading through my chest, allowing me to breathe easier than I have all day. I packed this outfit because the most confident version of myself, the one I feel I lost so many years ago, would love it. I packed this outfit on the slight hope I might locate thatlost confidence and gain the strength to wear it, though I felt so sure I wouldn’t.

Somehow, I’m certain it’s Easton Mason’s words, his smile and sultry eyes—the way he strides through the casino like I’m a priceless piece of art he’s honored to carry—giving me that conviction I need, believing I’m every bit the fucking masterpiece he says I am.

We step out into the cool February air, the lights of the strip blinding bright, the sounds of Sin City echoing around us. I turn to Easton, multitudes of color cascading across his handsome face. “So, did you have a place in mind?”

He smiles mischievously. “Yep.”

Without another word, he takes my hand, dragging me behind him. We turn right, heading toward The Flamingo, and onto an escalator that’ll take us on a bridge to cross over Las Vegas Boulevard. We stop momentarily at the top of it, looking out at the lights in front of us.

Paris towers above on one side, the bright blue balloon reflecting over the Bellagio fountains. This time of February isn’t crawling with tourists the way the spring and summer are, and while I’d never describe Vegas as romantic, it feels…nice next to Easton. He waits patiently as I admire the skyline, and when I’m finished, we continue in the direction of Cesar’s Palace.

“Where are we going?” I ask.

“You’ll see.”

We exit the escalator, and Easton takes us to what appears to be a giant, white circus tent. He walks right up to it, and I realize it’s some kind of outdoor bar. Tapping his fingers against the counter, he smiles at me, only slightly taller when I’m in heels. “What flavor do you want?”

“Flavor?” I ask.

He nods behind the bar, and I realize the massive slushie machines in front of us. “Cherry, pina colada, or lime?”

A giggle bursts out of me. “This is what you had in mind when you asked to take me out for a drink?”

“Well, what didyouhave in mind?”

I snort. “I don’t know. Cosmos at the Cosmopolitan?”

“Please,” he tsks. “That’s lawyer Easton and Maya nonsense. We don’t need to be lawyers all the time.” A strand of chestnut-colored hair falls over his forehead as he drops an elbow on the bar and turns toward me. “Look, you told me you’d have one drink, so I’m getting youonedrink.” He nods toward a couple beside us as they’re handed a two-foot-tall plastic cup with a lid and a curly straw. “What flavor?”

I bite my lip, contemplating whether I throw caution to the wind and put my life in the hands of Easton Mason for the evening. “Fuck it.” I sigh. “I want a mix of all three.”

“Atta girl.” He winks, and my insides go molten at his tone.

“Just one, and then I’m going back to the hotel, okay?”

He straightens his face, offering a mock salute before pulling out his wallet and tossing his card on the counter, ordering us each our own ridiculous slushie from the bartender.

“I’ll agree to that, but I have a condition of my own.” He crosses his arms, leaning a hip against the bar. “While you’re drinking youronedrink, I’m going to take you to my favorite place on the Strip.”

“Where’s that?”

“The promenade at the Linq. It’s a lot calmer than other areas, mostly shops and restaurants. Outdoor and sparkling with lights. You’ll like it, I think.” That does sound nice. I’ve never been into the bar or club scene, which was part of the reason I didn’t have plans to go out much on this trip. “Then, I’m going to take you on the High Roller.”

“Oh, fuck no.” I shake my head. “I don’t do big ass wheels.”

He laughs in a way that reminds me of the salt breeze brushing against my cheeks on a rare day spent at the beach back home.“You can’t do Vegas in one night, and I don’t know when or if you’ll return. Even if you do, you may not be with me, so I already know you won’t have as much fun. I want to make sure you see as much of the city as you can in the time you have, and the easiest way to do so is up in the air.”

Damn him for making sense.

There are a few people I’ve connected with at the conference who mentioned going to a club or gambling in one of the casinos, and I’ve always had a hard time in those situations. I get claustrophobic easily, so crowded spaces with low lighting, loud noises, and lack of personal space don’t bode well for me. I remember casually mentioning this to Easton once in college when he asked why I didn’t attend many parties, but I never thought it was something he’d remember.

“Are you amenable to my terms?” He smiles slyly.

“Fine. I’ll do your big wheel and drink this insane slushie, and then I’m going to bed.”

“Say you accept the terms, Maya, baby. This is a work trip, after all.”

I roll my eyes. “I accept the terms, pretty boy.”

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