Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 107803 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 539(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107803 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 539(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
"What's wrong?" Naz asks again. His voice has a slight impatient tone to it. I shake my head, pushing the ketchup aside, and put the bun back on to take another bite. I can feel Naz's eyes, his question lingering over the table, my brushing it off not good enough for him. "Karissa, what's wrong?"
"Nothing," I say, offering a tentative smile. "It's fine."
"You're not using your ketchup."
"Yeah, uh… if you can call it that."
He reaches over and picks up the bowl, doing just what I did—dipping his finger in to taste it. He makes no face, no sound, but as the waiter walks by our table he reaches out and thrusts it at him.
The waiter stalls, wide-eyed, and takes the bowl. "Problem, sir?"
"Ketchup," Naz says, his voice even. "I asked for ketchup."
"Yeah, this is—"
"Not ketchup," Naz says, finishing his sentence. "Heinz 57 is ketchup. That's not ketchup. I don't know what the hell it is, but I asked for ketchup, so I expect to receive ketchup."
The waiter scurries off once more as I gape at Naz. He continues to eat, unaffected, as the waiter returns within moments with a new bowl of what is undoubtedly ketchup this time. I thank him, staring at the bowl, hesitating, as Naz lets out an exasperated sigh. "Now what's wrong?"
"It's just that, if ever someone were to poison your food, this might be the moment," I say, staring at the ketchup.
"You think it's poisoned?"
"Or at the very least spit in."
I'm worried I'm aggravating him, not trying to be difficult. I pick up my burger to take another bite, resigned to just forcing it down because I'm too hungry for this shit, when Naz lets out a laugh—loud and genuine. He pushes his chair back to stand up, holding his hand out to me. "Come on."
I glance at his hand before meeting his eyes. "Where are we going?"
"To get you what you really want."
I put my burger down and take his hand, following him out of the restaurant, past our confused-looking waiter by the door. We stroll around, passing dozens of restaurants, some bearing the name of celebrity chefs, before Naz pulls me into a busy sports bar.
This place is a world of difference from the other, like night and day. The bar is barely confined chaos, loud and bright, with people wearing jeans and ball caps, drinking beer and yelling at the TV. The smell of greasy food wafts through the air, making my stomach growl.
Naz grabs a table dead center of the room, where a waitress appears with menus. I order a Coke, practically bouncing in my seat, as Naz hands the menus right back. "A beer. I don't care what, just make it in a bottle and keep the top on. And two bacon cheeseburgers."
The woman scribbles it down and departs with a smile.
When our drinks arrive, I sip on my Coke as he pulls out his keys, using a bottle opener to pop the top on his beer. He takes a swallow. His face contorts with disgust, his expression making me laugh. "Not good?"
"Beer never is," he says, holding his bottle out to me, offering some.
I hesitate. "Are you sure?"
"It's your birthday."
"Tomorrow."
"Close enough."
"I still won't be twenty-one."
His lips curve with amusement as he holds it closer to me. "I feel like we've had this conversation before. Is my little jailbird having second thoughts about sinning in Sin City with me?"
"Of course not."
"Then take it."
I take the beer from him and drink, grimacing. It's disgusting, but I take a second swallow and push it back across the table to him before anyone catches me.
The food comes out quickly—a juicy burger on a fresh roll, grease dripping when I bite into it. It's so good I moan, dramatically rolling my eyes in the back of my head. "Now that's a bacon cheeseburger."
Conversation is playful as I stuff myself, whereas he only eats half of his burger, instead filling up on alcohol. I sip enough from his bottles to catch a buzz, my head a little fuzzy and my body light like somehow I've learned to defy gravity and float into the sky.
He's sipping on his fourth beer as I lounge back in my chair, watching him quietly. He's beautiful, in a dark sort of way, the kind of beauty that's natural. He doesn't try, and I think that's what I love most about him—he just is. Naz, with his rough edges and slightly sinister smile, is pure passion and genuine grit, the kind that makes the hair on my arms stand on end while my spine simultaneously tingles. He can be frightening, but he's downright fascinating. I've never been around someone who wields so much influence.
How can someone surrounded by an air of danger make me feel so downright safe?
"You're quiet," he says, raising an eyebrow as he stares back at me. "What are you thinking?"
"I'm just thinking about how beautiful you are," I admit.
He laughs as he sets his beer down, pushing it across the table to me, offering the last little bit. I pick it up, chugging it, grimacing at the warm bitter taste. Naz pulls out his wallet and throws down a wad of cash, not bothering to wait on the bill—our waitress is backed up, so busy we haven't seen her in a while—but it's more than enough to cover what we owe.
He stands up, fixing his tie. I follow his lead, slipping my arm around his as we start for the exit, strolling out onto the casino floor.
"You know how to play blackjack?" he asks.
"No."
"It's pretty basic," he says. "You add up the value of the cards. Closest to twenty-one without going over wins. Got it?"
"Uh, sure," I say, eyeing him peculiarly. I really don't. "Why?"
"Because we're about to go blow a lot of money playing it."
I gape at him, and start to argue that I'm not legally old enough to gamble in Vegas, but yet again it's pointless. He bypasses all the tables around the main floor, taking me to an entire other part of the hotel—a casino within a casino. This place is upscale and exclusive, so much so we have to be escorted in. We're taken to a back room, to some private blackjack tables. As soon as we step inside I recognize a voice, looking around and seeing vaguely familiar faces. Everyone from the plane is here, laughing and carrying on, gambling the night away.