Rummaging through my purse, I find a lone piece of gum, still wrapped. I pop it into my mouth before checking my phone. A slew of missed calls from my parents cover my home screen. I’ve got a full voice-mail box and more texts than I can read right now. I’ll just go home and figure it all out. I’m sure, when he wakes to see me gone, he’ll be relieved.

Sneaking out, I take one last look at the Adonis on the floor and flinch, the truth hitting me between the eyes and sparking the headache from hell. After almost being killed, I had one of the most tender and intimate moments of my life. The feelings were one-sided, but still, it felt almost perfect to me.

I can’t think about it now. I don’t have the mental capacity to deal. Turning out, I move as fast as my legs will take me down the hallway and into the elevator, escaping my hero.

4

Slade

I crack my knuckles, raising my eyes to the young clerk. “Marlboros.”

He turns around, searching for my poison among the cartons filled with different brands of death sticks. I used to smoke casually, but these last few months, the habit has gotten heavier. Smoking has a way of calming my nerves.

The clerk’s hair is brown, shaggy, and long, falling into his eyes like a stringy curtain. I’m not sure how he’ll find it. Still, he locates the white pack and drops it on the counter. I hand him a twenty, collect my change, and head back out.

Walking out to my bike, I hear giggling. Such an awkward sound when women above the age of eighteen laugh like little girls would. They’re leaning against the glass show window, staring at me in excitement. I ignore them, removing the film from the pack and pulling out a cigarette. I need a moment of peace. God knows I need one after the shitshow in Vegas.

Sienna, one of the blackjack dealers at the Milestone, saunters over. Long black hair sways behind her. “Need a light?” She slowly blinks her blue eyes. Girl knows she’s hot.

Placing the cigarette in the corner of my mouth, I nod a hello. Putting my hand in my pocket to pull out my own light, I find it empty. “Shit. Yeah, I actually do.”

She giggles, the sound grating on my frayed nerves. Lifting the pink Zippo in front of my cigarette, she lights me up. “So, hard night? I can make it better.” Her eyes dart to the zipper on my pants.

I consider taking her home. She’s super hot; that’s for sure. And willing, too. She wouldn’t care if I dropped her off when we were done either.

Still, I’m nothing if not a man who follows my own rules. I don’t fuck girls from the Mile—not ever again.

I thought Colleen, one of the cocktail waitresses, was cool, hot, and easy. She knew my background in the Navy and swore up and down that she just wanted to have some fun. I dropped her off at her apartment late at night after hooking up at my place. Hell, I even kissed her good-bye, thinking all was well.