Page 50 of Inflame

“I voluntarily went for a swim,” Claire answers. “I was so hot and well, it looked refreshing. That was after I threw up in the bathroom at the casino. I am a mess tonight.”

“We all had a little too much fun tonight and indulged in the liquor,” Graham says, standing up from the couch. “Make sure you stay hydrated.”

“You sound just like your brother,” Claire mutters.

I set Claire down and help her out of her heels by untying the ribbon that is wrapped around each calf muscle. How she even wore these damn devices boggles my mind.

“I’m glad you didn’t get hurt,” Angie says, coming over to hand Claire a blanket to wrap herself in. Now that we are in the building, the air conditioning is chilling our wet bodies, reminding us that we need to change.

“All of your kindness is making me feel even more embarrassed. I think the free drinks got to me. I was having so much fun trying new ones out that I wouldn’t have before. Sorry if I crashed the night.”

“It was a great night,” Angie says, hugging her best friend. “You planned the perfect trip for us, and I’m glad you unwound and jumped into the fountain.” She giggles. “As much alcohol as I had tonight, I would probably have joined you.”

Claire’s face turns serious. “There’s always tomorrow.”

14

CLAIRE

I rarely ever feel rested the morning after I make bad decisions. Last night was a record-breaker, and I have a detailed memory of the encounters to make hanging out with the gang even more cringe-worthy. I roll over and glance at my phone to see that it is only six. I feel oddly awake despite not getting much quality sleep.

The only thing that counters my bad decisions is making a few good ones. That usually means getting my butt out of bed at the first sign of dawn, tossing on some fun workout clothes, and hitting the pavement.

I decide that minimal clothes are best for a run through the dryness that is Las Vegas. I wear a neon green pair of spandex booty shorts and a matching sports bra that has a zipper down the cleavage and a razor back. I twist my hair high up on my head and sneak out into the main living space, trying not to wake anyone.

I tiptoe into the kitchen to fuel up on water. When I turn around, I smack into Nic who seems to keep doing this.

“What the hell?” I yell a little too hard, considering Graham and Angie are still sleeping.

I watch stupidly as Nic removes his workout shirt, revealing his hard pecs and ridges and—

Wait.

“Why are you removing your shirt?”

“You just dumped water on me this time,” he says casually, showing me the huge growing spot on his gray cotton shirt.

“Oh. Sorry.” I am a walking disaster. Oblivious. It is like my brain shuts off when I’m around him—even when I’m unaware that he is near.

“Where are you headed?” he asks, taking the glass from my hand and drinking the rest.

“You’re welcome,” I say sarcastically, which just adds more fuel to his already growing grin.

Seeing him put his lips directly on the spot that I just vacated sends a chill up my spine. These silly, mundane gestures are what I find the hottest. Watching him play poker the other night was almost my undoing. Him spinning chips in between his knuckles… Made me wonder the whole time what else he could do with those long fingers.

Nic clears his throat drawing attention to himself. I look up into his expectant eyes and inwardly groan.

“Did you ask something?”

His grin reaches his eyes. At least he doesn’t get pissed off at my inattentiveness. “Where are you headed? And do you want some company?”

“I wanted to go for a run and detox after my overindulgence last night. Thought I would hit up the strip before people crowd it. Can you keep up?”

“You set the pace, and I’ll rise to the challenge.”

“You gonna go put a shirt on?” I ask, as he starts walking toward the door.

“What’s the point? You’ll probably just dump something on it anyway,” he teases, making me laugh.

---