Page 117 of Victorious: Part 2
Vegas spreads out below us like a glittering circuit board, all lights and impossible beauty. From up here, the city appears like a fairy tale, all the harsh edges softened by distance and the romantic glow of neon.
“It’s perfect,” I whisper, leaning back against Phoenix’s chest.
“It is,” he agrees, but when I glance at him, he’s not looking at the view.
He’s looking atme.
“The scenery’s out there,” I tease.
“The best scenery is right here in my arms.”
God, this man and his lines.
They shouldn’t work. They should be cheesy and over-the-top, but the way he says them with such complete sincerity makes them feel like poetry.
The distant sounds of the city below, the whisper of the wind, the rhythm of our own heartbeats. We stay locked together in our private cabin as Vegas slowly rotates beneath us, and I think this might be the most beautiful view I have ever seen.
“Thank you,” I say against his chest.
“For what?”
“For tonight. For everything. For making me feel brave enough to live my own life.”
He cuddles into me a little more. “You were always brave, Clover. You just needed someone to remind you.”
The observation wheel completes its revolution while we hold each other, and I know that no matter what happens when we go back to LA, no matter what complications await us, I’ll always have this.
This perfect night.
When I felt completely and utterly alive.
“Ready to head back to the hotel?” Phoenix asks as we exit the cabin.
I nod, suddenly feeling the exhaustion of the day catching up with me. But it’s a good exhaustion, the kind that comes from living fully and loving completely.
The rain starts again as we make our way back toward the strip, harder this time, sending people scurrying for shelter.Phoenix pulls me under the awning of a hotel, both of us laughing as we shake the water from our hair.
“This is getting ridiculous.” He groans, but he’s smiling.
“I love it,” I say honestly. “I love all of it. The rain, the craziness, the unpredictability. I love that we’re standing here soaked to the bone, and I’ve never been happier.”
Phoenix looks at me for a long moment, something shifting in his expression. “We need to talk about what happens next,” he says quietly.
The words send a chill through me that has nothing to do with the rain. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, eventually we have to go home, Clover. Back to our family, back to the club, back to reality. And when we do…” he runs a hand through his wet hair, “… things are gonna be complicated.”
I know he’s right. I’ve been pushing the thought away all night, all week really, but it’s been there in the back of my mind like a persistent shadow.
Maverick’s anger.
The club’s reaction.
The danger we’re all facing from the Cartel.
“I don’t want to think about that right now,” I say softly.
“Neither do I. But we have to.” His blue eyes are serious, intense. “Because whatever happens, whatever we have to face, I need you to know that this…” he gestures between us “… this is real. This isn’t just Vegas madness or running away from our problems. This is love, Clover. The kind that’s too intense not to last.”
