Wild In Vegas

Sydney

“Sydney! Over here!” Addison’s excited squeal cut through the buzzing chaos of McCarran International Airport. As I stepped off the escalator into baggage claim, scanning the crowd for my bestie. Her enthusiastic waving and bouncing caught my eye and I couldn’t help but grin. Classic Addie, always bursting with energy even after I’d been delayed three hours. Thanks to a rogue thunderstorm over the Midwest. That rerouted half the country’s flights.

I hustled over and she tackled me in a bear hug, nearly knocking me over. “Oof! I’m happy to see you too, bridezilla!”

“Oh shush, I’m not that bad,” she laughed. Smacking my arm playfully before stepping back to look me over, hands on her hips. “Damn girl, look at you though! Rocking the ‘hot librarian chic’ as always I see.” She raised an eyebrow. “You sure you’re ready to let loose? You didn’t sneak any grad school applications in this suitcase to work on, right?”

I rolled my eyes. “Ha ha, very funny. I’ll have you know I’m 100% ready to par-tay,” I assured her, doing a little shimmy. “This is your big bachelorette blowout and I’m here for it. No distractions!”

“Excellent.” Addison linked her arm through mine as we headed toward the taxi line. “Because you’re about to get your socks knocked off, Miss Wells. I’ve got big plans for us. BIG!”

“Why does that scare me a little?” I laughed. Knowing Addison’s flair for the dramatic. Especially when it came to all things wedding-related, I knew we were in for one hell of a weekend. “Okay… bring it on, bitch!”

I’d been dreaming of escaping my one-stoplight hometown. Since I was old enough to realize the “Welcome to Green Oaks” sign. Essentially meant “Abandon all hope, ye who enter here.” Okay, maybe that was dramatic. But growing up as “the smart one” in a fly-over state. And in a city where the height of ambition was an assistant manager position at the Super Walmart. Meant constantly feeling like an alien species desperately trying to blend in. And after putting my own dreams on hold for years to help my brother Rowan care for our grandparents. I needed this weekend's getaway like water in the desert. Before I dove headfirst into the soul-crushing gauntlet of grad school applications.

“Viva Las Vegas, baby!” Addison squealed as our taxi pulled up to the Bellagio Hotel and casino. A towering, glittering behemoth in the heart of the neon jungle that was the Strip. We spilled out onto the sidewalk in a tangle of luggage and giddy laughter. Breathing in the hot desert air and the intoxicating scents of Chanel No. 5, tequila, and bad decisions.

The opulent lobby was a sensory overload. All soaring ceilings, gushing fountains, and Dale Chihuly glass. I’m pretty sure my jaw actually dropped cartoon-style as I craned my neck to ogle the lavish decor. Toto, I’ve a feeling we’re not in Kansas anymore...

“Holy shit, Addie!” I gasped. “How the hell did you swing this place?”

She flashed a mischievous grin. “I told you, the perks of being a wedding planner to the rich and infamous! Now come on, time’s a-wastin’.” She grabbed my elbow and tugged me toward the front desk. “The other girls are already checked in.”

After collecting our room keys. We headed up to the suite that would be our command center for the weekend’s festivities. The door opened to reveal Addison’s twin sister Avery. Their college bestie Chloe, and my childhood BFF Mia sprawled across a plushy couch. Already in their swimsuits with margaritas in hand. Real Housewives blaring from the huge wall-mounted TV.

“There she is!” Avery cheered as we rolled in. “Our adorable little bookworm, ready to shake her bonbon!”

“About time you got here, babe,” Mia laughed, hopping up to hug me. “Addie was about to send out a search party!”

“Bite me, all of you,” I teased as I moved to hug the other girls. “Some of us still have to fly coach.”

“Well get your booty into a bikini, missy!” Chloe commanded, wiggling her eyebrows comically. “We’ve got cabanas waiting for us at the pool, and they ain’t gonna trash themselves!”

I ducked into the palatial bathroom to change. Emerging a few minutes later feeling self-conscious. But trying to project confidence in my little black two-piece. “Ta-da!” I announced, striking an exaggerated pinup pose.

The girls whooped and whistled their approval. Mia handed me a margarita the size of my head.

“Yaaas, queen!” Addison applauded. “Okay ladies, phones out. We’ve got to document this for posterity. No one back home will believe straight-laced Sydney Wells went full Vegas otherwise!”

We laughed and shimmied together. Avery snapped pics of us toasting and being goofballs. I was thankful for the liquid courage as we finally headed down to stake our claim on a prime poolside spot.

The infamous Bellagio pool scene was in full swing. Beautiful people draped everywhere. Tiësto pumping from the speakers, the air thick with coconut oil and hedonism. We snagged a VIP corner near the swim-up blackjack tables. And immediately sent Chloe to charm the cocktail waitress to keep our drinks flowing.

“To Addie and Jake!” Avery raised her glass once we were settled. “May your marriage be filled with love, laughter, and tons of fat babies for me to spoil rotten!”

“Hear hear!” we chorused, clinking glasses.

“And to my ride-or-die besties,” Addison added. “Especially Sydney for keeping me sane while I transform into Bridezilla. I couldn’t do this without you, babe.”

“Aww, I got you, girl,” I smiled, blowing her a kiss. “You know I’d never miss your big day. Even if it means subjecting myself to the Hangover-meets-Bridesmaids hijinks. I’m sure you have in store for us!”

“Oh you have no idea,” Avery snorted. “Better hydrate now!”

We settled into the sybaritic rhythm of the afternoon. Rotating between gossiping poolside, splashing around like kids whenever we got overheated. Placing reckless bets when Chloe’s flirting scored us an extra hand’s worth of chips. I felt lighter than I had in ages, a million miles away from the stress and guilt that awaited me back home. Maybe there was something to this whole letting loose thing after all.

As the desert sun began its slow dip behind the towering casinos. We reluctantly headed back upstairs to primp for the evening ahead. Glammed and glittered to the nines. We ventured out as a giddy mob to the HAKKASAN Nightclub at the MGM Grand. One of the hottest spots in town according to Addison’s insider info.

The scene inside was a complete sensory overload. Cavernous space pulsating with strobe lights and bass. Lithe aerialists writhing overhead. Bartenders breathing fire, VIP tables packed with posing celebs and high rollers. Somehow Avery managed to score us a semi-secluded banquette. It offered prime views of the action without feeling totally exposed. Bless that girl’s uncanny ability to get us the hookup.

Properly positioned, supplied with bottle service. And a herd of eager suitors trying to catch the bride tribe’s attention. We hit the dance floor with abandon. At that moment, awash in adrenaline and top-shelf vodka, I felt deliciously free. No term papers. No family obligations, no small-town gossip mill waiting to catalog my failures. Just me and my girls and this glittering alternate dimension. Where anything felt possible.

Hours blurred by in a euphoric haze of laughter, dirty dancing, and way too many Red Bull vodkas. I only know this because at some point I got a Snapchat memory alert. And I nearly died from embarrassment/awe at my own audacity immortalized in Avery’s Story. There I was, goofily voguing on our table. Santa's hat askew, doing body shots off Chloe while Britney blasted in the background. Who even was this magnificent party goblin?

As the DJ shifted to some untz-untz EDM remix, I suddenly realized my head felt like a helium balloon. About to float away from my body. And my mouth was a tequila-flavored desert in desperate need of water. I grabbed Addison’s swaying shoulder and shouted “Bathroom!” in her ear, gesturing vaguely behind me. She nodded and blew a sloppy kiss. Never breaking rhythm as she grinded up on a chiseled blonde Ken doll in a tight black t-shirt.

I pick-a-path puzzled my way through the sweaty throng. Toward the far wall where I was pretty sure the restrooms were. Dodging roving hands and sloshing cocktails with barely concealed impatience. By some miracle, I found the ladies’. Or at least, a door with a sort of stick figure person that looked vaguely female-shaped. And I elbowed through the line, gasping my apologies.

The blessed relief of a bathroom stall was finally obtained. I leaned my cheek against the cool tile wall and waited for the world to stop spinning. You’re okay, I coached myself. Just get some water, maybe a Red Bull for electrolytes, and rally like the bad bitch you are!

Feeling marginally more human. I emerged a few minutes later and headed for the sparkly wall of sinks to freshen up. I was re-glossing my lips in the mirror. Half-heartedly grooving to the muffled bass thumping through the walls. When a sudden commotion made me glance toward the door.

At that exact moment, a pack of howling bros came crashing in. Dragging a tall, gorgeous, very drunk specimen of masculinity between them. Like hunters with an unwieldy human trophy.

“Yoooo, Hunterrrr!” one of them crowed, slapping the hottie on the back as he careened toward the urinals on unsteady legs. “You fucking legend! I can’t believe you said that to the bouncer!”

“That’s why he’s the main man!” another bro chimed in. Throwing what I assumed was meant to be a gang sign. But looked like a half-assed yet enthusiastic, “live long and prosper” Vulcan salute.

Their voices grew louder and more garbled. Echoing off the tiled walls, all drunken guffaws and alpha male posturing. But I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the Adonis. At the center of the pack he unsteadily. Grappling with his zipper. His broad shoulders and artfully tousled dark hair were backlit by the fluorescent glare. Like some kind of debauched angel.

Then, as if he could feel the weight of my eyes on him, he turned his head and locked eyes with me in the mirror.

The moment stretched between us, electric. The rest of the world fell away until it was just us two. Surrounded by a Gatsby-esque blur of sparkles and shadows. His blue eyes pierced into me. Startlingly clear and deep despite his advanced state of intoxication. The corner of his mouth hitched up in an arrogant little smirk when he noticed me noticing him. Causing an involuntary shiver to run through my overheated body.

Sweet baby Jesus.

I snapped my gaping mouth shut and turned back to the mirror, a heated blush rising in my cheeks.

Get it together, Sydney! I scolded myself. You didn’t come to Vegas to be the sloppy hookup for some pretty boy player. Even if he is so hot he probably shouldn’t be legal.

Willing my hands not to shake, I primped for a few more seconds. Before gathering the shreds of my dignity and hustling for the door. One last furtive glance over my shoulder as I went.

He was still watching me. His head cocked slightly to the side. That infuriating panty-dropping smirk is still firmly in place. He inclined his chin at me almost imperceptibly and mouthed: “Later.”

Not fucking likely, I thought tartly. As I popped my imaginary collar and strut-stumbled my way back into the writhing neon night. This ain’t that kind of party.

But even as I repeated that to myself like a mantra. Seeking out my girls for another round of shots and debauchery. I couldn’t shake the ghost sensation of those penetrating blue eyes raking over me. Setting my nerve endings humming with some unfamiliar alchemy. Of recklessness and raw need.

Oh, what the hell. I shrugged. Downing something smoking and electric green from the tray of a passing waitress. What happens in Vegas...