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But even if I can’t do anything about my crush on Cole, it’s still relieving to hear she’s not interested in him.

“Bringing the topic back to Vegas,” Harlow says now, unknowingly saving me from my discomfort. “A bar crawl on Saturday would probably be fun. I’m sure Ella would love that.”

“Sunday could also be a recovery day,” I add. “Hang out at the pool as we try to work off the hangovers before we fly back.”

“Great,” Lucia says. “We have some ideas. But where do we go for meals? When do we hit the casinos? Do we see any other shows? We need to hash out the details.”

“Girl, breathe,” I laugh. “This is supposed to be a fun trip. We don’t have to plan out every second of every day.”

Harlow nods in agreement. “We have an idea for each day. Let’s play the rest by ear. Ella can help us decide what to do since it’s her bachelorette party anyway.”

Lucia groans. “You guys are killing the planner in me.”

“Gotta just go with the flow sometimes, Torres,” I say, tilting my wine glass toward her.

“Maybe you should heed your own advice, Fisher.” Lucia smirks at me again, and Harlow snickers from her spot next to her.

Fucking hell.

Harlow knows, too, doesn’t she?

Harlow knows I’m obsessed with her brother.

But hopefully, she doesn’t know all of my thoughts.

That I almost dropped to my knees because I’d been fantasizing about having his cock in my mouth for three years.

That I want him to push me up against the wall and fuck me roughly while the pictures hanging shake and fall.

That I desperately want to know if that nice guy persona also extends into the bedroom. The quiet ones can be the filthiest.

No, I’ll keep on keeping those to myself.

“Well,” I say awkwardly. “I think we have some good ideas for Vegas. Who’s up for some dessert before we head out?”

When I get back to my apartment, I slip off my boots and shimmy out of my jacket, ready to relax for the rest of the night.

My mind is still swirling with thoughts of Cole.

As if on instinct, I find my way back to my table, art supplies still scattered about. I’ve started a few pictures since I started up again yesterday, but the image of Cole keeps pulling me back in.

He’s basically perfect—his portrait can’t be anything less than that.

As the pencil on the paper forms another curly strand falling from the top of his head to his shoulder, my phone vibrates next to me.

I brush the graphite dust from my hands and grab my phone, finding a text from my favorite person.

Cole

How was dinner, Aurora?

I laugh lightly as I pull up his contact to call, preferring to hear his voice rather than just text.

When I hear Cole pick up, I speak before he can. “My name’s not Aurora, you know.”

I hear him laugh heartily from the other end. “I’ll find a better nickname for you then.”

“As long as it’s not something cringy like Sugar Boo Boo, I think it’ll be fine.”

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