Her ass on a velvet couch beside him, but most of her weight pressed up against him in a bar that felt suspended in a cocoon of crystals, her eyes carefree and happy, Olivia announced, “I need another cocktail.”
She was beyond tipsy, heading straight to shitfaced.
Nick didn’t mention that to his girl.
He looked across the space, caught the waitress’s eye and jerked up his chin.
He felt Liv’s hand at his stomach sliding across and he tipped his head down to look at her again.
“Thanks, baby,” she whispered.
He didn’t reply.
Instead, he drank in that look in her eyes, feeling her pressed tight beside him.
That was his.
He’d earned that.
After he gave himself that moment, he took what he earned, tipped his head down and kissed her.
When he released her mouth and looked back at her face, he knew that wasn’t enough.
So the next party that passed by, a couple, he stopped them.
“Sorry,” he said. “But can you get a picture?”
The guy with his girl looked to Nick, then to Liv, and nodded, taking Nick’s phone that he’d engaged the camera and was offering.
“How fun! Vegas memories,” Olivia cried. Her arm already wrapped around his stomach, she burrowed closer.
The guy smiled, his girl smiled. He aimed, touched the button and gave Nick back his phone.
“Have a good night, bud,” he said as he put his arm back around his woman and started to lead her away.
His woman waved.
Olivia kept snuggled to him but waved back.
“Thanks, man,” Nick muttered and looked down at his phone.
Olivia again burrowed in.
“Ooo, sweetheart,” she cooed. “That’s a good one.”
It wasn’t, she was wrong. The first picture of them wasn’t good.
It was brilliant.
Olivia tucked tight to his side, her head tipped back, her cheek resting along the underside of his jaw, a big smile on her face you couldn’t miss even if you could only see half of it.
Nick had his arm around his girl, looking at the camera, smiling right at it.
They looked carefree. They looked happy.
She looked carefree.
She looked happy.