He says nothing.
“I hope she fucks you up worse than I ever could,” Janice spits.
She shoves past, her eyes catching mine as she goes, a glare so intense I take a step back as she rushes down the hall. I suckin a breath, frozen, then close the gap to the living area where Travis stands alone, running his hands through his hair.
“You were in a relationship with Janice?” The question is out before I can pry it back. My voice is steady.
He doesn’t answer right away. He pulls both hands down his face, then looks up, mouth hard. “Yeah, but it wasn’t serious, even though she is makin’ it sound like it was. I never asked her to move in, she got...obsessed. I ended it.”
Weirdly, I believe him.
Something about Janice doesn’t sit right.
Still, he should have told me.
“How long ago did this happen?”
He hesitates. “The first day I saw you was the day I ended it with her.”
My mouth drops open. “That wasn’t that long ago, Travis!”
“Yeah, I know, but like I said, it wasn’t serious.”
I shake my head. “That’s not what she thinks.”
“I can’t fix what she thinks, Violet.”
“Why didn’t you just tell me?”
“I didn’t tell you because I knew it would end like this,” he growls, his voice low.
“Don’t get angry at me because I found out about something you chose to keep secret.”
“I kept it secret because it didn’t fuckin’ mean anything. You want me to tell you about every fuckin’ woman I’ve had my dick in?”
I flinch. “I’m going for a walk. When you’re ready not to be a fucking asshole, come find me.”
I walk away, moving down the hall where I pull on some clothes and get the hell out of there. I find an exit, slide outside. Then I walk. Cars swim by in surges, party-seekers shout and slosh drinks on the curb, and I wonder what it would feel like tobe any of them. I keep walking, no plan, and the air stings my skin with all the wildness of Vegas.
I reach the Strip. Chaos on chaos, and nobody cares how anyone else is feeling. I duck into the first lobby I see, a casino that smells like burnt popcorn and Chanel, and I keep moving until my shoes stick to something sugary near a slot machine cluster. I sit for a minute. Then I get up and buy myself a shot of bottom-shelf whiskey from a guy in a bow tie, and I don’t even flinch as it burns past my tonsils. I take another. I find a quieter bar. I order a gin and tonic and stir it fast, watching the bubbles grab onto ice cubes and pop.
I know Travis will find me. He has my location; we shared it before we came here, just in case we lost one another. So I know it won’t be long before he finds me. I’m right. I’m on my third drink when he walks in, dressed in black jeans and a tight tee, his body rippling beneath the stretched fabric. His hair is messy, and his eyes are on me, refusing to look anywhere else.
I can already hear the rumblings of people nearby, whispering his name, but he pays no attention to them. He sits on the stool next to mine. We let half a minute go by, pretending we are strangers, two walk-ons in the middle of someone else’s Vegas weekend.
“Hey,” he says.
I nod. “Hey.”
“Can we talk?”
I tilt my head. “Isn’t that what we’re doing?”
He faces me full-on, his expression guarded. “I acted like a dick back there. I was frustrated. She is a lot to handle, but I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that.”
I don’t say anything; I just press my lips together, my heart hurting.
He orders a beer, bringing it to his lips and taking a long sip before saying, “I was with her, and I should have told you that,but things weren’t serious, not for me, anyway. Even before I saw you, I knew it was getting too much, but she was having a lot of trouble letting it go. The day I saw you, I knew I had to end it for good, and I did. I should have told you, I know that.”