He leans in to grab a bag. “Oh, yeah, I forgot. That tiara gives you mystery solving, super brain power.” Mocking rings through his tone.

“I never said mystery solving, super brain power,” I argue, my speech starting to slur. “I said it gave me mystery solving, awesome brain power.” I exaggeratedly snap my fingers. “Come on, Silver; get it right.”

He twists to face me, and for the briefest second, his lips are parted in shock. But he swiftly collects himself and puts on his I’m-too-cool-to-give-a-shit expression.

He then shrugs, focusing on the suitcases again. “Congrats on solving the mystery. Me, I’d like to forget about it.”

Confusion mixed with dizziness makes it complicated to concentrate. “Forget what? That I figured out who you are?”

“Forget about Silver altogether.” He drops the last of the bags down onto the ground.

“You want me to forget about him? That’s so sad.” I pout. “He was sweet and such a great listener.”

“He was also socially awkward, a loser, oh, and my personal favorite, a devil worshipping freak.” Evan glowers at the suitcases as if somehow they’ve offended him.

“You were not. You were sweet and quiet and cute in this strange, intense, I-rarely-blink way, which FYI, you still do that.” I’m attempting to convince him, but when he gives me this you’re-cuckoo look, I sigh. “Okay, so maybe that’s what everyone called you back in high school, but trust me, if I believed everything the cool kids told me in school, I’d still think I have t-Rex arms. But I don’t.” I stick out my arms and wiggle them around like I’m an octopus. “See? Perfectly normal length, my friend.”

That gets him to smile, and for some reason, it makes me feel like I’ve won some grand prize. Gold medal for Lexi! Hell, yeah!

“So, how about this?” I continue. “Instead of spending the night living in the shadows of our past, how about we go pro-nerd and celebrate our dorkiness?” I stick out my fist for a fist bump.

“I’m not dorky anymore,” he says, but fist bumps me anyway.

“No, you’re not.” I mull an idea over, checking him out as I thrum my finger against my bottom lip. “You look too sexy right now. It kind of contradicts dork celebration night.”

He wrestles back a smile. “Why do I have a feeling you’re about to do something really weird?”

“Because I am. Be worried, my soon-to-be-dorky friend. Be very, very worried.” I make a dun, dun, dun sound, tapping my fingers together like I’m about to do something sinister.

He smashes his lips together, struggling not to laugh at me.

I ponder how to make Sexy Stranger look less hot, and for some reason, the man dressed up as cupid pops into my mind.

“I have an idea.” Without warning, I reach forward and tug his shirt over his head.

“What the hell, Lex?” Evan’s face turns bright red, either from anger or embarrassment.

I don’t know why he’s embarrassed. The guy is ripped—not overly muscular or anything, just toned and lean and nicely yummy. He has tattoos, too—curvy patterns that ink down his side and disappear underneath the waistband of his jeans. I have issues with turning into a nympho when I’m drunk, and it takes all of my willpower not to unbutton his jeans and pull them off, too.

Although, maybe I could get away with licking his abs …

I laugh at myself.

Evan suddenly folds his arms across his chest. “For future reference, a guy never feels too great about himself when a woman takes off his shirt and then laughs at him.”

I blink my attention to his face. “I wasn’t laughing at you. I was laughing at what I want to do to you.” It takes my drunken mind a second or two to sort through what I said. “But, anyway, that”—I twirl my finger around in front of his chest—“doesn’t make you dorky. If anything, I think your hotness when up a notch.” I give him a thumbs up.

A beat or two of silence goes by as he intently studies me, looking baffled as fuck.

“Are you always like this?” he finally asks, more curious than mystified.

“Like what?” I bend down and unzip the pink bag in front of my feet.

“Say whatever pops into your head, because I gotta say, it’s unnerving.”

I rummage through the bag for a get-up that will erase Evan’s sexiness. “You get used to it. And if not …” I grin, grabbing the bin of glitter and some body lotion.

“Then what?” he wonders as I stand back up.

“Then just make sure you never hang out with me again when I’m drunk.” Grinning, I dangle the glitter and body lotion in his face. “Now, let’s dorkify you.”

He shuffles back, putting his hands up in front of him. “No fuckin’ way.”

“But you don’t even know what I’m gonna do.”

“Anything that has to do with glitter and lotion is a no-go zone.”

“But we’re in Vegas.” I step toward him, and he matches my move, stepping back. “It’s the one place where you can finally wear glitter and get away with it.”

He gives me the death glare. “Who said I ever wanted to wear glitter?”

“Oh, come on, almost every guy has thought about it at least once.”

He stares at me blankly. “I can promise you I’ve never, ever thought about putting glitter on my body.”

“Okay, well, then look at it as a chance to have my hands all over your body.” I give him my best come-hither look while trying not to laugh.

I don’t really expect it to work. Even drunk, I’m not silly enough to believe I can entice a man into putting glitter on his body simply so he’ll get the reward of me touching him. So, when he steps forward and surrenders, I’m as shocked as I was the time I came home and found a rooster wearing the tiniest bowtie and top hat inside my bedroom. To this day, I still don’t know how he got in there.

Evan sticks his arms to the side and turns his head to look away from me. “Just hurry up and do it before I change my mind.”

“Aye, aye, captain.” I hurry up and rub coconut cream pie scented lotion on him, making sure to cover every single inch of his smooth, hard chest. Then I sprinkle glitter here and there, unnecessarily using my fingers to get it to stick to his skin.

“I’m way too sober for this,” he mutters as I use my hands to wipe my glitter lotion concoction up and down his arms.

“I have an awesome solution for that.” I skip back to the car, grab my cup, and present it to him like it’s the greatest present in the world. “Drink up and you should feel contently happy about your sparkly self in a half an hour.”

“I’m not sure there’s enough tequila in the world to do that,” he says but slurps down the rest of my drink, anyway.

“All right, we’re all checked in!” Carrie Lynn comes walking out of the elevator, holding up a set of keycards. “Evan, you get your own room, and Lexi, you’ll be sharing with Emersyn.” She glances around the carport. “Wait, where is Emersyn?”

I take a cardkey from her. “She wandered off to talk to her boyfriend. I’m sure she’ll be back soon.” At least I hope so. I haven’t seen her for about twenty minutes, so either she’s gotten lost or has found somewhere she can privately finish verbally tongue fucking her boyfriend’s belly button.

“Maybe I should go look for her. We’re on a pretty tight schedule.” Carrie Lynn smacks another keycard against her palm, staring at the exit of the carport. She mulls something over then looks back to us with her lips parted, about to say something. Then her jaw suddenly drops. “Oh, my God, Evan! Did you get into my glitter bin?” Steam practically comes out of her ears. “I can’t believe you did that.”

“Cupid made us do it,” I sputter, not wanting to get Evan in trouble.

She blasts me with a dirty look. “Cupid made you do it? Really, Lexi? You expect me to believe that?”

“It’s true.” I shoot Evan a discreet roll-with-me nod then put on my game face. “He came in here with his sparkly diaper and fairy wings and was all like”—I spread my hands out to my side—“ ‘look at me. I’m so sparkly and pretty. Bet y’all wish you were as sparkly and cool as me.’ And I was like ‘yo, cupid, dude, you’re wearing a diaper. You’re so not cool, but you are very sparkly.’ And he got all pissed off about the not cool remark, went through your bag, took out your glitter, and put it all over Evan as a punishment.”