“No fun until you guys admit this was a good idea.” Max crossed his arms. “Oh, and P.S. I paid for penthouse suites, so—”
Jason launched himself at Max, probably to hug him? Who knew? But he tripped over the suitcase and would have face planted if not for Max’s quick catch.
“Good save,” I said.
Jason stood and brushed off his shirt. “Swear you guys put obstacles in my way on purpose.”
He rubbed his eyes.
“Jason?”
“Hmm?” He blinked wide, then blinked again. “What’s up?”
“Are you . . . can you see?”
“Huh?”
“Do you have vision problems?”
“Yes,” Milo answered for him. “But he refuses to get glasses, because according to Jason they’re nerdy.”
“Glasses are hot,” Becca spoke up.
Max glared. “People with glasses get called Four Eyes.”
“In elementary school.” Becca shoved Max; he flailed, then fell backward over the suitcase onto his ass.
“Classy,” Max called from the ground. “It’s cool, I like my women aggressive.”
“Why would you need glasses?” I was still stuck on Jason’s vision issue. “Wear contacts.”
“Whoa!” Jason held up his hands. “That’s crazy talk.”
“What am I missing?” I looked around helplessly.
Max, from the ground, held up his pointer finger and said, “Jason, watch, I’m going to touch my eye.”
“Do it, you bastard, and I’ll cut your balls off and feed them to my mom’s chickens.”
Max was silent and then said, “She didn’t have chickens last week when she invited me over for tea. I’m calling your bluff . . .” He slowly lowered his finger to his eye while Jason paled.
“Ah.” I nodded. “Fear of touching your eye? Isn’t that an actual phobia?”
Jason shuddered. “Dude, I’m going to puke, just stop.”
Max sighed, then dropped his hand. “Fine, but guys, this weekend is about epic-ness. Let’s relax, have fun, and get these two crazy kids fake hitched. And if you need to detour from the itinerary, please let me know ahead of time.”
“Itinerary?” I repeated as Max got off the ground, opened his carry-on, and pulled out laminated sheets of paper and started passing them around.
“You’ll note that we’re already late for checkin, which means that you’ll have to refresh a lot faster. We’re kicking off this party the right way.”
I turned the paper over in my hands. Max was detailed, all right, he even wrote in bathroom breaks. Girls got ten minutes, on account of the fact they have to sit on the toilet, and yes, that was actually written in parentheses. Boys got five minutes, because they stand like badasses, also written in parentheses.
“Is this normal?” I dangled the sheet in front of Reid.
He sighed. “Sadly, yes. Every vacation I’ve ever taken with the guy has a schedule. I’d like to say it makes life a living hell, but it’s actually helpful because you don’t have to make any decisions. It’s easier to let Max rule.”
“Hmm.” I tapped the sheet against my leg. “Think thirty years from now, when he runs for president, that will be his tagline—‘It’s easier to let Max rule’?”
Reid snorted. “Wouldn’t surprise me.”
“All right.” Max clapped. “To the Batmobile.”
I followed the rest of the gang toward a waiting stretch limo and was handed a glass of chilled champagne before getting in.
I may have been stressed about this trip.
But already I was relaxed and letting my guard down.
So when Reid sat next to me, then put his hand on my knee and didn’t move it, I smiled at him . . . and I felt it. That thing every girl feels when the relationship takes a turn. When it suddenly locks into place. Solidifying that thing between you and the guy that makes you get warm and fuzzy inside every single minute you’re together.
Techno music pounded through the stereo system.
“To VEGAS!” Max yelled.
I burst out laughing as we all clicked our glasses together.
I had to hand it to him.
The man partied well.
A point he proved again when we pulled up to Aria.
“Penthouse suites?” My mouth gaped open. “Are you sure Max is okay with paying for—”
“Shh.” Reid wrapped his arm around me and kissed my head. “He put enough KY in your bag for you to get through a decade of shit sex. Pretty sure you can just say thank you.”
“Shit sex?” I repeated.
Reid winked. “I was assuming it would be without me.”
“Oh.” My face fell.
“Good.” He laughed. “Just checking.”
“Huh?”
“Making sure you’re still interested, which by the look you just had, you are. Wow, maybe I do have some Max in me after all?”
“Sneaky bastard.”
“I could probably be his vice president.”
“Dude.” Max elbowed Reid. “Becca may be my first lady, but you’ll always be my first man.”
I frowned.
Max did the same. “I could have said that better.”
“You think?”
“Come on!” Jason shouted ahead of us. “We only have ten minutes to get ready for the SkyJump!”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” I fisted Reid’s shirt, my hand coming into contact with a firm pec. “SkyJump?”
He smiled. “Aw, you clawed my shirt like a real crab.”