Cami
“You didn’t tell your mom we’re in Vegas?” Izzy’s eyes nearly fall out of her head. She groans and places her hand over her mouth. “Cami! She’s going to kill us.”
“Me. Not you,” I remind her cheerfully. For sure, Mom is going to be upset that I joined this last-minute graduation celebration in Vegas.
I can already hear her disapproval. You girls went to Vegas with no parents? With no chaperones? Where anything could have happened to you? But… “I’m moving to Tennessee. I don’t know the next time I’m going to see you girls. I was not missing this.” And I didn’t have time to put in the effort I’d need to get Mom on board for this party weekend.
Izzy sighs but she glances at our group of girlfriends. Then, she looks at me, tears shimmering in her brown eyes. “I’m gonna miss you, Cam.”
“Oh, jeez,” I laugh, even though emotion tightens my throat. Izzy and I have been through a lot together. She showed up for me big time when I came home after a semester study in Europe, brokenhearted and broken-spirited. Then again, when Mom intervened by showing up at our college dorm nearly every Friday night, a bag of popcorn in hand and a movie recommendation in mind.
Mom’s meddling became so aggressive that after she tried to set me up with her dentist’s son—a good boy, from a good family—Izzy covered for me by corroborating my lie of having a stomach bug.
It’s going to be strange not having her close by. “Come here.” I toss an arm around her shoulders. “You’ll come visit me in Knoxville, right?”
Izzy nods. “I can’t believe you’re moving next week.”
I bite the corner of my mouth. I can’t believe it either. While most of my college friends—fellow members of our sorority Alpha Phi—are staying in Minnesota or at least in the Midwest, I’m heading east. But the job offer—a boring position at an accounting firm with a solid starting salary—is exactly what Mom and Dad want for me.
Besides, I can use the distance from home. I need a break from my mom’s incessant worrying that I’m going to throw my life away—or worse, end up with the wrong man for a husband.
As kid number three, I’m her wild card. My siblings, Rhett and Jenna, didn’t pull the shenanigans I did and as such, she doubled down on me. On ensuring I didn’t step too far out of line. And ever since I did, while studying abroad in Spain three years ago, she’s been determined to reset my course.
Nothing would make Mom happier than me settled down, with a stable career, and a strong husband to protect and provide for me.
A weekend in Vegas? Not so much.
My mother is a helicopter parent and while I can, to a degree, appreciate her looking out for me, she constantly crosses the line.
Now, I want the chance to enjoy myself in a fun, eclectic new city. I need the freedom to make my own choices and mistakes—and maybe if I had more of it, my poor judgement calls wouldn’t be such colossal blunders.
It’s time for a new chapter for the new graduate.
“Girls!” Mia shouts over her shoulder, pointing at the approaching server who is balancing a tray of shot glasses. “We’re doing shots.”
Izzy grins. “You ready for tonight?”
“Totally,” I say, meaning it. While Mom accuses me of being impulsive, I prefer to think of my spontaneity as an asset. It means I dive into things headfirst, savoring the experience and relishing the moment.
It may not have always served me well in the past, but tonight is different. With the excitement of my new life in Knoxville beckoning, I’m different. It feels like I’m on the precipice of adulthood, and for the first time in years, I trust myself to be here.
Linking my arm with Izzy’s, we rejoin our friends around the table on the rooftop patio. It’s filled with people of all ages and backgrounds—but everyone is in a celebratory mood. Isn’t that why you come to Vegas?
To party? Let loose? Have some damn fun?
I lift my shot glass to the group. “To us!”
“Happy graduation!” Izzy exclaims, clinking her glass against mine.
“Cheers!” Mia adds.
“To tonight!” Tamara exclaims.
We take our shooters and I smack my lips together as the vodka burns a trail of heat down my throat.
“Ooh, six o’clock,” Tamara murmurs.
Turning to look over my shoulder, I catch the group of attractive, well-dressed men as they saunter onto the patio.
“They look like athletes,” Izzy decides.
“They look like a good fucking time,” Mia laughs.
I purse my lips as I study the one who caught my eye. He’s tall and built in a way that speaks to hours in the gym. A broad chest that stretches the material of his navy shirt. Shoulders that a girl can hang on to. Forearms corded with muscle.
Jesus, how can a guy’s arms be so…hot?
I tilt my head, studying him. I hate that my first reaction is to compare him to Levi. In the three years since the famous musician and rhythm guitarist for the internationally acclaimed band The Burnt Clovers broke my heart, my gut instinct—my knee-jerk reaction—is always to compare a man to him.
To his wild eyes, his sexy smirk, and the way his hair stuck up in all directions. To the way he saw life as one big joke and only focused on the moment at hand.
In hindsight, Levi was a mess. Spiraling and falling apart. As evidenced by his stint in rehab after a night gone sideways. A night I’d rather forget. But in a matter of weeks, I fell in love with Levi Rousell. It was short-lived and lightning fast. A fling that soared high and burned out in an instant.
But he’s still my baseline. My only true experience with intense, overwhelming emotions. The only man who’s twisted me up inside. The only one I’ve never gotten closure from.
Of course, I’ve gone on dates since. I’ve flirted and kissed and even slept with a few. But Levi—and our time together—has followed me around like a shadow. A persistent reminder of what could be and a warning of how it can go wrong.
For the first time ever, I think this man, this stranger, could overtake Levi’s impression on me. He’s got that energy—a vibe—that could outshine a shadow. The thought makes me smile.
It’s ridiculous and yet, my body hums with awareness.
I may be going to Knoxville as a single, independent woman, ready to begin adulthood on my own terms. But what’s one last hurrah? One fun night in Vegas? One final chance to throw caution to the wind?
Mia giggles, interrupting my thoughts, and I turn to look at her.
She flips her chin at me knowingly. “You caught his attention, Cami.”
Huh? I swing my eyes back to the hottie at six o’clock and my gaze slams into his.
I suck in a deep breath. Holy hell. Forget his arms. His eyes are—mesmerizing. Yeah, that’s the word for them. A deep, electric blue that shocks my system by its intensity.
He holds my gaze and after a beat, the slowest, most knowing, cocky-as-hell smile curls his lips.
“Damn,” Izzy mutters.
“I’ll drink to that,” Tamara agrees, downing another shot.
I bite my bottom lip and smirk back. I’ve never been coy or shy. I’m a what-you-see-is-what-you-get kind of girl and this man just looked at me in a way that I could latch onto and run with.
I mean, I’m here, aren’t I? Adulthood in Knoxville is only days away and I’ve been biding my time in Minnesota, waiting for the opportunity to step into my own skin again. To stop being fearful or ashamed. To start living my life.
A thrill shimmies up my spine and I shake my head. Then, I take another shot of vodka to steady my nerves and clear my mind.
When I look back up, the man and his friends have taken over a corner table. They’re joking with the server. Their group has a relaxed energy, as though they’re just out to enjoy the night and whatever it brings.
Some tables of men hold an urgency—a need for each guy to claim a woman and hook up. Other groups are closed off and uptight. But this group, this table, looks like a hell of a good time.
I sigh and meet Mia’s eyes. She smirks, as if she knows exactly what I’m thinking.
Before any of us can plan how to approach their table, our server comes over with a bottle of champagne nestled into an ice bucket.
“From the gentlemen in the corner,” she explains, pointing over her shoulder.
I look up and my eyes meet his again. This time, his look is more pointed. More…knowing.
I grin, he returns the smile, and my confidence grows.
The server pops the bottle and pours us each a glass.
I lift it in his direction, and tilt my head, asking, Are you coming over or what?
He chuckles and narrows his eyes for a long moment before standing. He takes his beer, walking toward me slowly.
Izzy sucks in a sharp breath. “Get it, girl,” she murmurs.
I dip my head in a subtle nod. I am. I take a sip of my bubbly.
And by the time the handsome man with the bluest eyes I’ve ever seen stops in front of me, I’m well on my way to being tipsy. A bit from the alcohol and a bit from his presence.
“Hey,” he says, holding out his hand. “I’m Leif.”
Leif. I’ve never heard that name before, but I like it. I like names, people, and things that are different.
I shake his hand. “Cami. Thank you for the champagne.”
The girls echo their thanks, and he smiles and nods at each of them.
“What are you celebrating?” he asks, dropping an elbow to the high-top table we’re seated at.
“Graduation!” Tamara informs him.
Surprise ripples over his expression. “From university?”
“Of Minnesota,” I share.
He rears back slightly, his eyes widening. “I’m from Minnesota.”
I grin. “Small world.”
“Guess so,” he agrees, glancing at his friends.
Slowly, they make their way to our table too.
“Are all of you Minnesotans?” Mia asks.
“Fuck no,” one of the guys laughs. “I’m Chris.”
“We’re celebrating his bachelor party,” Leif explains.
“Congrats!” I say enthusiastically.
“When’s the big day?” Tamara asks.
“July 28,” Chris replies, grinning.
“This is Hudson, James, and Ray,” Leif introduces his other friends.
“Good to meet you,” Mia replies, gesturing for the guys to take a seat or pull up a barstool.
The men exchange a look—it only takes a second—before they agree to join our table.
A new tray of shots is delivered.
Leif shifts his stool and given how many bodies are now seated around the high-top, his thigh presses into mine. A strong, muscled leg, covered in denim. It’s rough against my bare skin and surprisingly intimate since it shouldn’t even register on my radar.
But it does. He does.
“So, you’re celebrating?” Leif asks.
“As are you,” I remind him, tipping my glass in his direction.
He clinks his glass against mine, amusement, curiosity, and something deeper—desire?—rolling through his irises. “What are the odds I’d meet a fellow Minnesotan—a fellow alumnus from U of M—here?”
I bite my bottom lip. “It’s fate.”
“Kismet,” he agrees before we both toss back our shots.
Destiny.
If you believe in those types of things.