Page 22 of Inflame

I unpack my luggage and set out a fresh set of clothes on the bed. Everything in this suite seems to be designed for royalty, from the upscale linens to the art on the wall. It is like I am in a modern-day palace. Nic did great picking out this venue. There is no way I could even afford one night here—especially now that my parents have ended the cash flow indefinitely. I’m dreading even bringing up my situation to Ethan. He has already scolded me about the grocery budget. Maybe he is clueless as to how little I make working at the gym. Who knows how he’ll react to my newly discovered debt. My bets are on—not well.

I meander into the bathroom and glance around at the spaciousness. There is floor-to-ceiling tiling and a shower that could easily fit ten people inside. Maybe it has in the past. Ugh. At least there is a cleaning crew at places like these. I strip down and turn on the faucet that starts six different shower heads. Water cascades off me in every direction. I set the strength to hit me hard. Staying cramped up, even in first-class, next to a Greek statue named Nic has me super tense.

I still can’t believe how clumsy I am around him. I just keep fumbling and the lack of gracefulness—which is something I take pride in—is wearing on my self-esteem.

I lather my hair with vanilla-scented shampoo that is held in a wall dispenser. I love this scent. It smells like homemade ice cream. I rinse my entire body and towel dry off.

For tonight, I do a simple blow-dry to my hair and add some styling cream. I keep my makeup low-key but still acceptable for a casual evening out. I slip on my black halter top and skintight denim jeans. Other than a thong, there is nothing else that is going to fit inside these things tonight. I pair the outfit with black sequin stilettos that add punctuation to my casual but sexy look.

When I feel like I am back to being put together, I head out into the main living space and find the gang mixing up cocktails and organizing all of the room service order that they must have called in while I was getting myself ready.

“You look smokin’,” Angie says, while whistling. Her eyes take in my entire look. “Like hot dayum!”

“So do you! I love your purple dress.”

I watch out of the corner of my eye as Nic adds more liquor to his glass. From the pure amber color, I predict that the only mix-in is ice.

“Dig in, ladies,” Graham says, passing us each a plate. “We ordered a little bit of a lot of different dishes. Claire, the ones that are on the black plates are vegan.”

I can’t hold back my smile. “Thanks for being so thoughtful.”

“Oh, that was Nic’s doing,” he adds. “But if you want to slide over to the dark side again, I got these bacon-wrapped scallops that are amazing.”

“They are so cute, too,” Angie says, popping one into her mouth.

“I’m not being super strict this weekend, but will pass tonight and stick to the animal-free options. Thanks though.”

We fill up our plates and sit around the dining room table, munching and chatting about our itinerary for tomorrow. I am super hesitant to even suggest too many of my ideas, because Nic basically thinks we should wing everything. He planned nothing. He okayed nothing. He was a pain in the ass about everything.

“I thought, if it is okay with everyone, that maybe we could explore the strip tomorrow and just see what is here. I know you guys have been here before, but Angie and I haven’t. We can even separate during the day and—”

“Let you two roam the city?” Graham asks, setting his drink down a little too hard. “Unaccompanied?”

“Well, I,”—I glance to Nic for help—“was not sure if maybe I overplanned the details.”

Nic clears his throat. “I reassured Claire that whatever she dreamed up would be perfect for this trip, and that sticking to her plan would definitely take the stress off of trying to come up with ideas last minute.”

Wait. Hold up. “When did you actually reassure me?” I whisper-yell. I want to wipe the smile off his face. Damn he looks smug. And hot as hell.

“I sent you an email.”

“What?” I whisper. I must have missed it. “Well, then, it probably went to junk mail.”

His lip curls up into a smirk. “Just accept that I’m allowing you this small victory.”

I turn back to the happy couple and clap my hands together. “I have a ton of surprises in store for everyone.”

“I’m so freaking excited!” Angie squeals, nearly falling out of her chair.

“You girls better pace yourselves,” Graham groans. “The night is still very young.”

“And the city never sleeps,” I call out, feeling the looseness that the alcohol gives me. I am happy and free.

Angie giggles over nothing in particular.

I hold up my I-don’t-know-what’s-in-this drink and say, “To getting drunk and losing our inhibitions and driving all the single men wild! Cheers!”

“No. No,” Graham blurts out, “we are not cheers-ing to that.”

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