She walks towards the door and shoots me a cocky smile over her shoulder. “You check your pants for pee?”
“What? I don’t piss myself when I’m drunk.”
"No, but you did the SkyJump, remember? Well, you almost didn't because you were trembling so hard the attendant almost couldn't get the harness on you."
“I wasn’t trembling. My knee twitches. From my injury,” I reply sharply and add, “And no. I didn’t piss myself on that jump thing.”
The memory fuzzily fills my head. She dared me to do the Stratosphere SkyJump. That must be the falling dream that woke me up. I was reliving that. Great. I’m sure I’ll have nightmares about that for weeks. I hate heights. It was fucking terrifying.
"How are the snails doing in that little stomach of yours?" I ask because now I also remember daring her to eat escargot, which apparently she hates. She did it, gagging the whole time.
Her hand goes to her stomach and her eyes snap shut. “Whatever. I did it.”
“And I did every stupid thing you dared me to,” I remind her proudly. “Because I’m not the lame, boring, robotic guy you like to think I am.”
“No. You’re still all of that,” Tenley counters, her annoying smug grin back in place. “But you’re also scared of losing to me.”
I’m scared of losing to anyone, but she doesn’t need to know that. So instead of answering I just roll my eyes. “You can leave now. I have better things to do than talk to you.”
“Like what? Work out? Eat egg whites and protein shakes? Watch paint dry?” Tenley doesn’t wait for a response. She cracks the door to my room and peeks out. The coast must be clear because she swings the door wide and marches through the suite. “I’m going to get a Bloody Mary, put on the smallest bikini I own, then go to the pool and meet some real men so this trip isn’t a complete waste.”
“No one forced you to hang with me last night. I would have been happy to spend my time with anyone else. Or even alone,” I reply, following her into the living area. She pauses by the front door to put on her heels, which makes her a good two inches taller. They also make her look even leaner and tilt that ass of hers to the perfect angle.
“You should go to the gym. I think your brother has better abs.” She exits the suite before I can think of a biting retort.
God damn that woman.
I go back to sleep for a couple hours and when I wake up Crew has left me a note saying he’s at the pool with everyone and I should join. I don’t. I head to the gym and try and strengthen my stupid leg. The surgery was six weeks ago and I was told it was minor. They just needed to clean up the cartilage in my knee. Why does it still hurt this bad?
I’m lying on a yoga mat, stretching out my groin, when Tenley storms into the gym.
“We need to talk.”
“Sorry, I’ve reached my Tenley Garrison limit for… oh the entire year, I think.” I keep stretching.
She stops half a foot from the edge of the mat. Her toes are a glittery pale pink. Her flip flops are a neon blue, like the bikini she’s spilling out of and the wrap loosely tied around those hips she’s got her hands on. “Why are you stretching your groin? You don’t use it. You’re like a monk or something.”
“Leave.”
“I would except I was just at the pool with all your teammates and girlfriends, you know the normal people who come to Vegas to relax and have fun,” she gives me a pointed stare, “and Taylor told me we got married.”
I don’t even know what part of that sentence confuses me the most. It’s like she’s speaking gibberish. I push up off my forearms and sit back on my heels. My eyes lock with hers. “Who the hell is Taylor? You and me? Married?”
I would laugh but it’s actually a terrifying thought. The serious look on Tenley’s face is scaring me too. “Apparently we dared each other to go to a chapel and get married.”
“Who is Taylor?”
“That’s your question?” Tenley gapes at me. “Taylor is Carter’s fiancée. She was out with us last night. So was he. They did the SkyJump thing with us.”
Carter is Josh Carter. He's a defenseman. Good guy. Right. Memories start forcing their way to the front of my brain like a salmon swimming up a stream of margaritas. Carter and his girlfriend Taylor hung out with us most of the night. It was originally Taylor's idea to try zip lining on Fremont Street. She invited Tenley who then dared me. And then we ate the snails. And then we went to another club and she dared me to dance with the bachelorette party there. I dared her to wear a double XL sweatshirt I bought at a tacky gift store, daring her to cover up. She did of course and still got hit on by the bartender.
“Nash!”
“I don’t remember!”
“I don’t either.” She sighs and starts to pace in front of me. As she turns to the side I see the back of her swimsuit doesn’t exist. It’s basically a thong and that ass… the perfect, round, tight work of art she doesn’t deserve to have, is on full display. I stand up and swivel to face the weight bench so I can adjust the front of my workout shorts without her noticing. I grab the towel I left there and make sure to hold it casually in front of me so that if my dick stops listening to my brain, and gets hard over that perfect ass, she hopefully won’t notice.
“What exactly did Taylor say happened?”