to get a chance to get to know Parker any better. Not really.
And even if we did somehow end up together, I wondered how long it would be until Parker was sick of me being away for so long, until he stopped answering the phone whenever I called the Bed & Breakfast.
Fuck.
How long would it be until Parker Williams was done with me?
“Derek?” Parker waved a hand in front of my face. “You still there?”
“Yeah. Sorry.” I shook my head as I brought myself back into the conversation. “I’m still here.”
I’m still here, Parker.
And you’re still here, too.
At least, for now.
17
Parker
I was working my way through one of the biggest slices of pizza I’d ever had in my life. I’d folded it in half so I’d be able to take more manageable bites, but even after doing that, it still felt like I was literally biting off more than I could chew.
Derek and I had ended up stopping at a pizza place after we’d gone to buffet after buffet on the strip and decided that the lines were just too long. Neither one of us was willing to wait at least three hours to be seated, and since it was too late to make a reservation, we realized that we were at the mercy of whatever restaurants were still open.
Thankfully, since we were in Las Vegas, there were about a billion restaurants still open. And when we stumbled upon a not-so-crowded pizza stand, we went ahead and leaned into our luck, ecstatic about the opportunity to eat something without having to pass the next few hours in a state of starvation.
Derek was right next to me, working through his own pizza slice as we walked down the Vegas strip. He looked more relaxed than I’d ever seen him before, but I figured that was because of the cup of beer in his hand, a drink he’d been nursing ever since we’d picked up our slices.
“Do you like your slice?” His question filled the silence between us as he took yet another bite of his pizza. “I think mine might be burnt on the bottom.”
“I think mine is, too.” I laughed. “But I think that might be part of the whole thing. Wasn’t the place called ‘Burnt Tony’s’?”
“Wait. Was that really what the place was called?” Derek scoffed. “Shit. No wonder the line wasn’t that long. Do people really pay money for that?”
“I mean, we did.”
“And the house wins again.” Derek laughed now too as he finished his slice, throwing his paper plate into a nearby trashcan. “Vegas just can’t lose, can it?”
“Nope.” I smiled over at him as I heard a familiar classical song being blasted out of unseen speakers.
It was hauntingly beautiful, each note staying with me, each measure making me feel like it was written just to make its way through my heart and soul.
I glanced around the strip, trying my best to locate the source of the song, its melody still lightly floating through the air. And then, when I figured out where the song was coming from, I couldn’t stop the look of pure joy that showed up on my face.
The fountain.
There was a huge fountain further down the strip, with yellow lights seemingly beaming out from every inch of it. As the water from the fountain shot up from its depths, the classical music played in time, making it seem like the fountain was dancing along to the song, the effect utterly whimsical.
I started walking toward the fountain, almost like I was drawn to a siren, unable to stop myself from engaging in my growing curiosity. And by the time I was standing right in front of the fountain, I noticed how many people were surrounding me on every side, their curiosity appearing to be just as powerful as my own, each person in the crowd hypnotized by the dancing water in their own way.
And when the dancing fountain’s show came to a stop, I watched as the crowd suddenly dispersed, each person going back to their own little corner of the strip.
“That was beautiful,” I murmured when I saw Derek move over to my side. “Did you see that?”
“I’ve seen it before,” he replied. “This isn’t my first time in Vegas.” Derek then shot me a puzzled look before he asked, “Wait. Is this your first time in Vegas, Parker?”
“Yes,” I admitted, a little underneath my breath.
“What?” Derek scrunched up his expression. “How is that even possible?”
“I didn’t—I don’t—” I tried and failed to