Page 6 of The Vegas Rerun

At some point, she reaches across the table and playfully pokes my arm.

"You’re not so bad for a soon to be corporate suit, you know,” she says.

I smirk.

"Good to know. And you’re not so bad for a professional Vegas troublemaker."

She gasps in mock offense.

"I prefer the term hospitality specialist," she tells me with a glint in her eye that definitely says trouble.

I laugh, shaking my head.

"Fine. Hospitality specialist it is then. But I bet you do have a knack for finding trouble."

She leans in slightly, that mischievous glint still in her eyes.

"Maybe. Or maybe trouble just has a way of finding me."

I don’t doubt that for a second. And right now, I don’t mind being part of the trouble. In fact, I welcome it.

The night stretches on, the drinks disappearing faster than I realize. Time feels fluid, slipping past in a haze of laughter and easy conversation. I don’t want it to end. But eventually, the bartender gives us a knowing look and mimes drinking from a glass, the universal sign that we should probably drink up.

Molly sighs, stretching her arms above her head.

"I guess we should call it a night," she says, but she sounds disappointed about it.

I glance at her, at the way the dim lighting casts a soft glow on her skin, and I have to fight the impulse to say something reckless. Instead, I smile.

"Probably," I say, leaving it open to her to see that I don’t want that either.

We down the last of our drinks, say goodnight to the bartender, and step out onto the street. The cool air is sobering but not unpleasant. Molly tugs her coat tighter around herself, looking up at the skyline.

"Well, that was fun," she says.

"It was," I agree. "Maybe too much fun."

She grins.

"There’s no such thing as too much fun in this town,” she says.

I watch her for a second, debating whether to say what’s on my mind - that I don’t really want this night to be over.

CHAPTER 5

MOLLY

The city hums around us,electric and alive, as we stand just outside of the bar, neither of us making a move to leave. The air is thick with the scent of used pavements and lingering cigarette smoke, and the neon glow of the sign overhead casts shifting colors across Joshua’s face. He looks at me, his eyes slightly glassy from the drinks but still sharp, still watching me like I’m the most interesting thing in the street.

"I don’t want this night to be over yet," he admits, his voice low and rough, like he’s confessing something he shouldn’t be.

A slow smile spreads across my lips.

"Me neither," I admit.

We stand there for a moment, the city buzzing around us, and I can feel the pulse of possibility in the air. Vegas is good for that - making you believe that anything can happen. That the night will stretch on forever if you let it.

"Then let’s do something stupid," I say, the idea forming before I even know where it’s going. “Something that’s so Vegas.”