Page 57 of The Emerson Effect
After the movie ends, Twila grabs her phone, so I grab mine, too. We’d set them to “do not disturb” before the movie, and as my screen lights up, I see dozens of notifications from BingBang. I look over at Twila, and she’s frowning at her screen as she taps a finger against it.
“Holy shit,” she breathes, and I quickly open the app.
My travel video has gone viral. And I’m tagged in about a hundred comments from Twila’s, which also has over five-hundred-thousand views.
I look over at her, and she meets my gaze with a slightly dazed expression. Her eyes clear and she grins before looking back down at her phone.
“Oh, my God, Emerson,” she says suddenly. “Someone posted footage of us together.”
I quickly find the video we were both tagged in. It’s a shot of us walking through the casino after dinner. I say something to Twila, and she laughs. She looks like an angel, the lights of nearby slot machines dancing over her skin and hair. My smile is as bright as the sun, showing my joy at being able to make her laugh like that.
It wasn’t for show. Neither of us knew we were being filmed.
The caption says, “So in love.”
As we watch, the number of likes, shares, and comments on the video multiply. The poster confirms we’re at The Black Hart, and several locals and tourists in the area pledge to find us and get more footage for everyone.
I look over and meet Twila’s eyes, and as if on cue, we both shout and jump to our feet. We bounce around before falling into a tight hug. My body reacts to her nearness and the fact that her breasts are pressed against my chest. I stiffen slightly, and Twila must feel the change because she leaps away from me like I’m on fire.
She clears her throat and smiles, saying, “This is amazing.”
“It really is,” I say, returning her grin. “I’m so happy you agreed to do this with me.”
“Me, too,” she says, her voice filled with honesty and conviction. “Me, too.”
THIRTY-ONE
Twila
I can’t remember when I’ve had this much fun. This morning, Emerson and I had breakfast at the buffet downstairs before heading out to explore the strip. It was early enough that it wasn’t too hot outside yet, and when we ended up at The Venetian, we took a gondola ride that left us with some great footage for a BingBang video.
After lunch, we ended up at the adult playground in the Luxor. I don’t think I’ve ever laughed so hard. With a couple of cocktails in me, I lost all my inhibitions and just hadfun. Emerson, too.
We competed with each other in crazy games like the Bullseye. We pulled on Velcro suits and jumped on a trampoline to get some height before launching ourselves at a giant bullseye on the wall––and stuck there––trying to get as close to the center as possible.
We played puzzle games, ran obstacle courses, jumped in a bounce house, and played a life-sized game ofOperation.
Exhausted after hours of fun, we ended up back here in our suite. I went straight to my room, showered, and took a power nap. Now awake, I yawn and shuffle into the main area of the suite to find Emerson.
“Hey,” he says when I emerge. “Good nap?”
“Definitely,” I answer, plopping down onto the couch beside him. “What have you been up to?”
He holds out his phone. “I posted some footage of us from today, and people are going nuts over it.”
I take the phone from him and watch the video. I ignore the analytics completely as I watch myself, mesmerized by the happy smile on my face. I wasn’t acting. Hell, I don’t know if I even realized he was filming. Then, Emerson flips the camera around to show his face, and he’s smiling just as honestly as I was.
“That’s good,” I say, handing the phone back to him.
He cocks his head as he takes it. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” I say quickly and force a smile. “I’m good. I’m just still waking up, I guess.”
“Do you still want to go out tonight?” he asks, his voice laced with concern. “We don’t have to. We can order room service and stay in, if you want.”
“No, I’m good. I want to go out. We need to be seen, right?”
“Right,” he says, the word vibrating with uncertainty.
