He parked at one of the hotels, and they walked through the smoke-filled casino out to the Strip. The lights were bright, and people were everywhere. There were so many tourists. She couldn’t even handle it.

“Where are we going?”

“Sugar Factory,” he said, pointing out a building next door.

They walked through the doors and were promptly seated in the dining room.

“Just dessert menus, please,” Eric said to the hostess.

“Sure thing.” She dropped them on the table and then disappeared.

Bryna opened her menu. There were dozens of options—everything from ice cream to cake and cookies to fondue, waffles, or milkshakes. There was even a hundred-dollar sundae with twenty-four scoops of ice cream and a thousand-dollar fondue with real gold and a bottle of Dom Perignon included. It was dessert heaven.

“Hi. Welcome to Sugar Factory. Can I get you something to drink?”

“Water is fine,” Bryna said. “But I’m ready to order. You?”

Eric nodded.

“I’ll have the banana split,” she said.

“All right. Do you want two spoons?”

“Um…no. I plan to eat it all by myself.”

The girl looked at Bryna as if she couldn’t decide if it was sarcasm or not.

“Yes. An extra spoon would be great,” Eric interjected. “I’ll have a strawberry milkshake.”

“Sounds great.” The lady walked away with the menus.

Bryna eyed Eric suspiciously. “You’re not getting any of my banana split.”

“It says on the menu it’s made for two to eat. There is no way you can pack away an entire banana split like that.”

“Want to bet?” she asked. “It’s my favorite. And caramelized bananas. I mean, come on. That’s screaming my name.”

He snort-laughed. “I’ll take that bet. You pick up the tab if you don’t finish every last bite.”

“Oh, please. At least make it fun.”

“Fine. When I win, you have to hang out with me again…and be this girl, not the one from school.”

She rolled her eyes. “I don’t know what that means, but I’m going to eat it all anyway, so deal.”

They chatted aimlessly until their food came out. Bryna’s eyes were as big as saucers when she saw how enormous her banana split was.

“Having second thoughts?” he asked.

“Definitely not. I don’t back down from a challenge.”

She dug into her split. She was glad she hadn’t had dinner and was basically living off of her dirty martini at the moment. Otherwise, she wasn’t sure this was actually going to happen. As she worked on the dessert, they talked about football and their undefeated season.

“I wished I were playing,” he admitted. “I’m still on the team, but it’s different, being on the sidelines.”

“But you said you could play.”

“I could,” he agreed. “But I wouldn’t do that to my parents. They were freaked out when I hurt my knee. At first, the doctors didn’t know if I would walk. It was not a good time in my life. I recovered remarkably well, but I don’t want to go back into something I’m good at if it could kill me. I’m still young and smart. I can do something else.”

“Coach? Is that the dream job?”

“Of course. That’s the goal even though so few people make it to the top. Coach thinks I have the right eye for it. That’s why he agreed to train me after I busted my knee,” he told her. “What about you? What’s the dream job?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess I always assumed I’d marry into money.”

“You’re not serious,” he said in disbelief. “You’re smart and in college. You have to have some dreams, right?”

She stuffed another bite of the banana split into her mouth to keep from answering right away. Her dreams had always been so muddled by everyone else’s expectations of her. She didn’t know how much of what she wanted was from herself or her parents.

“Sometimes, I think film,” she said. She had never said that out loud. “When I was younger, I used to watch clips and piece them together for my dad…when he was around.”

“Cool. So, are you a film major?”

“Um…no. I’m undecided. I don’t think my father would take me seriously if I told him I was in film even though he was in film here.”

“Why not?” Eric asked.

“I’ve never really shown interest in it. Plus, I don’t want to seem like I’m riding his coattails.”

“If you like it, you like it. You have to decide to do it and not give a fuck about what anyone else thinks. I thought you were already pretty good at that.”

Bryna crinkled her nose and shoved another bite of the banana split into her mouth. She was almost finished, but the more she sat around and talked with Eric, the more she thought it might be nice to hang out with him over break. She had been bored out of her mind, and he was actually pretty good company—when he wasn’t acting like a douchey hostile football player.

She got down to her last bite and just stared at it. “Maybe I will change my major then and see how film suits me.”

“Killer. That sounds like a great idea. At least, once you’ve tried it, you’ll know if it’s for you.” Eric then looked at her bowl. “I can’t believe you only have one bite left. I never would have guessed you could finish that whole thing.”

She smiled and then pushed the bowl over to him with the one remaining bite in it. “I didn’t finish.”

“It’s only one bite.”

“I lost. This was fun. Let’s hang out again.”

Be there in five.

Bryna checked the text from Eric and fiddled with her Harry Winston B in anticipation. They had gone to get lunch earlier this week, and it had been pretty chill. Since everyone was getting back into town on Saturday so that they could fly out to Miami the next morning, Eric had made plans for Friday night. She didn’t know where they were going exactly.

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 fuck 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.