Page 1 of What Happens In Vegas: Jessa & Jaxon
Prologue
Vegas never quiets down,does it?
Even after three full days of bottomless mimosas, poolside cocktails and afternoons of Meesha dragging us through boutique after boutique, the city still hums with relentless energy. Slot machines chime, laughter spills from every direction, and somewhere nearby, the deep bass of a club pulses through the walls like a second heartbeat.
Though Meesha’s wedding is still two months away, we decided to celebrate her bachelorette during spring break while I’m off from school. Four days in Vegas is the perfect escape from lesson plans, mediating recess rivalries, and the never-ending snowstorms back in Winter Bay.
I swirl my drink, watching the deep red hue. The first sip confirms it needs more cranberry juice.
“Jessa! You’re not even listening.”
Meesha’s voice cuts through my musings, her perfectly manicured finger tapping impatiently on the rim of her martini glass.
“Fine, you caught me.” I smile at my best friend since kindergarten. “What about the wedding?”
Meesha rolls her eyes dramatically, and I meet her look with one of my own. Twenty-one years of friendship means Meesha has learned to deal with my quirks.
“What? I multitask,” I say unapologetically, straightening the cocktail napkin under my glass.
She lets out an exaggerated sigh. “You are so lucky I love you.”
Meesha’s all spontaneity and surface sparkle, while I assess and execute. She brings the sparkle; I bring the structure. It’s why we haven’t killed each other.
“I love you, too.”
Something flickers across her face. My teacher-radar immediately pings.
“Do you girls think Connor and I are moving too fast?”
“Fast? You’ve been together since you were sixteen?” Jasmine, our third musketeer, glances up from her phone.
Her perceptiveness never missed a shift in mood, even when she seemed absorbed in something else. It’s the same intuition that’s made her five romance novels shoot to the bestseller lists. She understands people’s desires better than they understand themselves.
Meesha and I met Jasmine during our freshman year of college when we discovered we were dating the same guy. Instead of fighting, we teamed up and broke into Chad’s dorm room, covered his entire floor with a layer of uncooked rice mixed with glitter and corn syrup, replaced his shampoo with pink hair dye, and plastered every surface with printed screenshots of his three-timing text messages.
The campus security footage of him discovering our handiwork mysteriously made its way to the university’s social media page, courtesy of Jasmine’s roommate in the ITdepartment. We’d earned a disciplinary warning and a lifetime sisterhood in one fell swoop.
“But he’s the only man I’ve ever kissed.” Meesha’s voice drops to a whisper in the noisy restaurant. “The only one I’ve ever...” She doesn’t finish and doesn’t need to. “I can’t help feeling like I’m missing out on something.”
Jasmine and I exchange glances.
I want to grab Meesha’s shoulders, shake sense into her. I’ve watched them grow together. Connor bringing her soup during the weeks leading up to her nursing exam, holding her hand at her grandmother’s funeral, looking at her like she hung the moon and stars. The devotion between them is what other people dream about—what I secretly dream about.
“That’s ridiculous, Meesha. You’ve found what most people spend their lives searching for. Don’t throw it away on a whim.”
“Have you told him how you feel?” Jasmine asks.
“It was hard enough admitting it to you two.” Meesha blinks rapidly, fighting tears. “I don’t want him to think I’m ungrateful. I love him, I do. I just—” She swallows hard. “I wonder if I should test the waters before diving all the way in.”
How can anyone want to test other waters when they’ve found their ocean? Isn’t that the dream? To have someone who loves you so completely they’d call just to hear your voice, who looks at you like you’re the answer to every question they’ve ever asked?
The vibration of Meesha’s phone cuts through my thoughts. Her screen lights up with Connor’s smiling face.
“It’s him,” she murmurs, already reaching for it. “I should take this.”
She slides from her chair, phone pressed to her ear, voice instantly brightening as she weaves through the crowd. “Hey, baby...”
I turn to Jasmine. “Do you think she’s okay?”
