Vegas Knot (✔️) | Love Travels #1

Seventeen

Lucky for me, any awkwardness that might have definitely been piling up over the course of our short morning together was quickly displaced when we walked into the lobby and were greeted by the smiling faces of Divya and her fiance, Raj.

"It's so good to meet you," Raj says, extending his hand to Enrique. "Bianca's husband, yeah?"

How much does he know?

Enrique returns the handshake with a curt nod. "Yup, that's me. Reporting for duty."

"I heard about that, too. How are you holding up?"

A small flutter fills my chest, growing outward like a firework in the sky.

Divya reads my mind, leaning in to whisper, "It's not your fault you were so worried about everything that you never managed to think about his feelings. He has his own friends and family for that."

"Maybe," I answer her without turning around. "But it's not a very kind choice to make. I'm better than that."

"You are," she agrees. "So start acting like it. Moping around won't make it better."

By the time Lorena and Carla bounce into the lobby, Raj and Enrique have managed to shift the topic to French cuisine. A topic about which I never expected either of them to care. The surprises just keep coming today.

Lorena and Carla don't even have a chance to say hello before Divya grabs their hands and pulls them through the front doors. "Come on," she calls over her shoulder. "Our guide is already waiting outside.

Raj and Enrique look back at me, waiting for me to make the first move. One foot in front of the other, I make it through the door into the bright late-morning sun of the Vegas strip. Two girls in sequin dresses search the nearby garbage for a lost clutch. Evidence of a night well spent, as Carla would call it.

Enrique's hand rests on my lower back and I almost turn to look at him, but I'm interrupted by the booming, scratchy voice of our boisterous guide. Her large stature is accentuated by a bright blue vest and a sparkly party hat. "Gather round bridal party and guests!" she calls, her voice loud enough that she definitely doesn't need a microphone. "We are on our way out of town and we will be in the van for over an hour so do your stretches now and prepare your brains for some exciting new knowledge. We leave in five minutes and I require all limbs and handbags to be inside the vehicle."

She doesn't wait for our murmured agreement, turning on her heel and marching around the van, slamming her door once she's safely inside.

"I wonder who dangled a handbag out of the vehicle and made that rule necessary," Enrique quips.

"You have to wonder, don't you?" I ask, effortless smile pinching my cheeks. "Every time I read a code of conduct or terms of service agreement I have to wonder which wild cat decided to do something and ruin it for the rest of us."

"I'm going to pretend it was a linebacker named Javier."

"The only logical choice," I agree.

I've forgotten why I'm even there, the heat from Enrique's fingers pleasant rather than sticky. But I'm aggressively reminded of the point of our trip when Raj taps my shoulder, spinning me to face the open door of the van.

"You two are last," he says simply. "Back seat for you."

I don't even try to argue. Mostly because the lump in my chest grows more persistent by the second. We're really doing this.

Sliding into the back of the vehicle takes a few ungraceful motion, but finally we land next to each other on a bench built just for two. We don't have any time to think about what that means, though, as our guide's gruff voice breaks through the silence, providing a constant—and I do mean constant—running commentary of what we are seeing out of which side of the vehicle.