Gold (All that Glitters #2)(34)

All she knew was she enjoyed Eric’s company far too much—so much that, if he weren’t gay, she would have already hooked up with him. Then again, if he weren’t gay, she wasn’t sure she would be as comfortable with him. It was a conundrum.

With any other guy, going out on a Friday night would certainly mean it was a date. And since this was their third time hanging out this week, it’d usually mean a whole hell of a lot more than that. She wasn’t used to this. She had never had guy friends who didn’t want to f*ck her.

It was such a strange relief—and also just strange.

At least it gave her something to think about, other than her botched Christmas holiday. She had spent the entirety of Christmas Day drunk off her ass. Her mother hadn’t called once. Celia had called, but Bryna had ignored it. When her father had finally phoned her, all he’d wanted to know was why she hadn’t returned Celia’s call and claimed they had something important to discuss with her. It’d made her even happier she wasn’t home for the holidays to hear this stupid discussion.

Eric knocked hard on the door, twice.

She popped it open and smiled. “Hey.”

“You ready to go?” he asked.

“You didn’t say where we were going.” She followed him out the door.

“I know. Just get in, Hollywood.”

Bryna walked to his car, plopped down into the passenger seat, and arched an eyebrow. “Hollywood?”

“You call me Cowboy.”

“Well, you drawl your words,” she pointed out.

“No, I don’t.” He actually looked offended.

“Yes, you do. It happens all the time, especially when you’re angry.”

“So, it must just be around you then.”

Bryna shrugged. “As long as you admit it.”

“Whatever,” he said, drawling dramatically.

A smile crept up onto her face.

Eric drove the short distance toward the Strip, and she drummed her fingernails on the door.

“You know, I think I’ve been on the Strip more this week with you than all last semester,” she said.

“I know. I never come out here either. It’s always so busy, and it’s so much easier to go somewhere more local.”

She nodded her head. “Like Posse. It would be great to go to Carnival Court all the time, but the tourists kill it.”

“Yeah. I thought about this other place for tonight, and I heard this location is pretty fun. Plus, I have a friend who works there, so she hooked me up.”

“Okay. You have me curious. Where are we going?” she asked.

“You’ll see.”

Eric parked outside The Cosmopolitan, and they took the escalators up to the fourth floor. They walked out to the pool on the balcony. In its place, she found a full-on ice-skating rink. The seating had been converted into private fire pits for groups. People were roasting s’mores and drinking hot chocolate. All the while, fake snow filtered down around them—in the middle of a casino pool in the desert. Her mind was blown.

“Ice-skating?” she asked in disbelief.

“I thought it would be fun.”

“I had no idea something like this was here.”

“Well,” he said, “I hope you know how to skate.”

He handed his two tickets to the lady at the front, and she gave them a card to rent skates and assigned them a fire pit.

“Of course I know how to skate. I have my own pair of skates at home.”

“These will have to do for today.”

Eric held up a pair of blue plastic skates with straps that hooked on like ski boots. They were hideous.

“I am not going to put my feet in those,” Bryna said.

“Oh, yes, you are.” He grabbed a second pair off the table. “What’s your size?”

“Six and a half.”

“Here you go.” He pushed them into her hands.

She held them away from her like she was going to get infected. “I draw the line.”

“Where’s the girl who downed nearly an entire banana split?”

“That’s different. This is bad footwear. I prefer Christian Louboutin.” She pointed down at her boots.

“Get over it,” he said dismissively.

Then, he walked away toward their fire pit, which they were sharing with two other couples, who were clearly on dates. She had no other option but to follow him with the repulsive boots in her arms.

Eric nodded at the other people next to them, and they smiled in that dreamy state of adoration for their significant other. She wanted to gag.

She watched him start to put on his skates. “I’ll have you know, I’m doing this under protest.”

The skates looked even worse on her feet.

“Are you happy?” she asked.

“Let’s see your moves, Hollywood.”

In these skates, she didn’t have any moves. She was better at skiing than ice-skating. She thought it should have come naturally since she had a dance, gym, and cheer background, but she couldn’t keep her balance well enough on a thin blade.

Eric didn’t seem to be having any of the same difficulties. He skated backward, so he could face her and taunt her bad skating skills. “I thought you said you were good at this.”

“I said I had skates at home. There’s a difference. Now, stop distracting me,” she grumbled.