Damon:A Bad Boy MC Romance Novel(88)

     



 

I couldn't believe I was actually thinking about giving up my virginity  to someone I just met, but that's how crazy that kiss left me feeling.  It was like Sleeping Beauty being woken up by her Prince Charming.  Except my Prince Charming was covered in tattoos and bad news.

The cab pulled up to the hotel and we piled out, three messes on a late  night in Vegas. We were mostly silent as we rode up to the room and took  to our separate beds; we were all exhausted, drunk, and two of us were  stoned. I expected to fall asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow, but  no luck.

I tossed and turned for what felt like hours (but was probably, in  retrospect, about thirty minutes). I couldn't stop thinking about the  ache I felt down there, the unfulfilled need that seemed to fill my body  like water fills a vase.

Morning came and I groaned into the sunlight, head squeezed like a  monkey wrench, stomach turning, mouth as dry as the Nevada desert.  Hearing my own groan echoing throughout the hotel room, I knew that the  girls felt at least as bad as I did. This time, we really would need  those Bloody Marys.

"We're three for three with four days to go," Alicia said as we lounged  around on the lavish couches in our hotel room, picking at the leftovers  from breakfast and slurping down hair-of-the-dog. I was feeling much  better now, the hangover dulled to a mild discomfort. "Should we pick  new goals?"

"Ugh, we should pick a time to nap," Becky said, surprisingly the  worst-off in terms of hangovers, even though she'd had less to drink  than Alicia and I.

"Okay, after the nap. Me? I'm going to … um … go to a strip club!" Alicia  nearly fell off the couch shouting. Becky and I rolled our eyes. A strip  club? Dream on, Alicia.

"If you think that we're going to accompany you to a gentleman's club … " Becky said, her voice sharp.

"Whatever, Beck. You don't have to come with me," Alicia said, a tad  irritated herself. I saw the growing tension between them and decided to  nip it in the bud. Even best friends fight, but I didn't want anything  to ruin our trip.

"I'll go with you, Leesh. And I'll do whatever you want to do, too, Beck," I said, wanting to be the great compromiser.

"Whatever," Becky said. "As long as we still go on that hike tomorrow."

"Um, duh. We have to take some photos that we can actually show our  parents," Alicia said with a laugh. Even Becky grinned at that one.

"So … hike. Strip club. Sammy? What's your new goal?" Alicia looked at me  with genuine curiosity, as well as a twinkle in her eye. I threw her a  dirty look.

"NOT whatever you're thinking, Alicia. I don't know. Give me some time  to think," I said, knowing full well what I really wanted to do. Find  Boon. And see what else he could open me up to …

I must have gone off to la-la land, and had it written all over my face, because Alicia threw a pillow at me and squealed.

"YOU'RE gonna lose your V-CARD to that BOY!"

She's small, and she acts ditzy, but you can't hide a damn thing from that girl.





8





That night, despite my still-unbelievable desire to find Boon, I agreed  to stay in and watch movies, so that we could be up bright and early for  our hike. I was still trying to hide my true feelings from my friends,  and it was the hardest thing I've ever done in my life. Probably, still,  to this day, it's one of the hardest things I've ever done. Harder than  anything that would come next.

It's not even like I thought they would judge me: I knew for a fact that  Alicia would encourage me, and that Becky wouldn't judge me no matter  what I did. It was more like I was worried that by admitting it to them,  I would be admitting it to myself. It was easy to consider it a girlish  fantasy, a passing fancy, a fleeting moment, when I lied to myself. It  would be harder if I actually had to vocalize my feelings to my friends,  had to tell them the absolute truth.

Because I couldn't lie to them. I could keep silent about something, but  I couldn't outright lie to them. That's why, I guess, I didn't tell  them where I really went when I "went out for air" that night.

But I know they knew.





9





It was around ten, and I'd sat patiently through one whole chick flick  (Becky's choice) and one B-grade horror movie (Alicia's favorite genre)  without picking up the plot of either. I was a little distracted; I  spent half the time worrying about "sneaking out" for the night and the  other half trying to figure out where I would even start looking for  Boon in the wild city.

I couldn't, for the life of me, remember the name of the second bar we'd  gone to, but the bar where we met was right next to our hotel. Telling  Alicia and Becky that I was just going to walk around for an hour or so,  and trying to avoid their knowing glances, I put on a pair of shorts  and a simple tank top and slipped out into the hall, a pad of paper and  pen in my pocket.         

     



 

I figured I'd start at the beginning, and pushed my way through a crowd  of smokers outside the bar where Boon and I had met. Scanning the room, I  quickly confirmed that he wasn't there. I didn't bother checking the  dance floor; something told me that Boon wouldn't be caught dead with a  girl twerking against him.

I shimmied my way through the crowd to the bar, looking for a familiar  face amongst the bartenders. Finally, I noticed that one of the  bartenders was the same one from the night before, the one who had made  me Boon's "awful" Seven and Seven. I waited for about two minutes before  the bartender approached me.

"What'll it be, princess?"

"I'm actually not drinking tonight, I'm looking for someone," I said, noting the way the bartender rolled his eyes.

"Everyone's looking for someone, sweetheart," he said, turning away. I  reached over the bar and grabbed his sleeve. He was my first and,  possibly, only chance to find Boon, or at least get a message to him.

"Wait, please. You might remember me," I said, hearing the desperation  in my voice. The bartender heard it too, apparently, because he sighed  and leaned against the bar, looking at me.

"I see a lot of pretty girls every night," he said, a sympathetic smile on his face.

"Well, I ordered a Seven and Seven for a man. He had tattoos, blue eyes,  blonde hair. He ordered one for himself right after. And my friends and  I were all drinking those fishbowl drinks," I said, racking my brain  for anything that might jog his memory. "My little red-haired friend was  really drunk?"

"Oh," said the bartender, his face lighting up as he remembered. I felt  my heart leap. "That's right. You're the big tipper with the bad fake  ID."

He was smiling now, and I smiled back, sheepishly.

"Well, I appreciate you serving us, anyway. But, have you ever seen that  guy before? Or since?" The bartender's brow furrowed slightly, though  the amused look remained on his face.

"Now, I can't say, I don't notice guys as much as I do gals. But I'll  tell you what, if I see him tonight, I'll let him know there's a pretty  blonde looking for him. How's that?"

"That would be great. Except, would it be too much, do you think, can I  give you a note to give him if you see him? It's just, he doesn't know  my number or anything, and … "

"Sure, sure, whatever. It'll end up in his hands, or in the trash if I  don't see him. Hurry up, though, I'll be skinned if I waste any more  time with a customer who isn't paying."

I hurriedly pulled the pad and pen from my back pocket and scribbled my  name and number on it. Hesitating for a moment, I decided that I was  already being pretty ballsy, and that there couldn't be any harm in  being a little ballsier. I want more, I wrote in neat script above my  number. With my heart jumping all over the place, I tore off the sheet  of paper, folded it, and handed it to the bartender, blushing like  crazy. The bartender started to unfold the paper.

"No!" I said, reaching out and grabbing his hand. "Please don't read  it." He gave me another amused look and nodded, slipping the paper into  his pocket.

"Well, I sure hope I see him. I'd hate to think of a poor fellow missing  out on whatever it is your offering," he said, starting to walk away.  "Just stay away from the chapels, honey. You're not too young to  remember Britney Spears, are you?"

I didn't have a chance to answer him as he turned to the next closest  customer, but my blush didn't go away. I stood at the bar, stupidly, for  another minute, wondering what came next. I could try to find the bar  he had taken us to, but I knew that it would be a miracle if I could  remember even one side-street we'd turned down. I could just walk up and  down the strip, checking every bar in sight. That seemed the only  option; I still had 45 minutes before the girls were expecting me back.

So that's what I did. I'll tell you something, too. If you ever really  want to see what Vegas is like, walk from bar to bar, totally sober.  You'll never see or hear such mayhem in such a short amount of time. It  was like walking through a kaleidoscope. From gambling floors to dance  floors to exclusive-looking clubs, everything just comes at you in  flashes of light and sound. It's pretty crazy.