I WAS READY—and dizzy—as early as four-fifteen on Wednesday. The moment my digital clock showed 4:20, I sent Takoda a GIF of a drunk, crying woman, then moved on to add some last-minute supplies to my small suitcase.

With Coco's help, I'd picked out a skin-tight, off-the-shoulder dress for the event later that night. It was a shimmering maroon wonder with a small cutout around my left collarbone, and it stopped a couple inches above my knees.

After I got more information about the event, and the color tones on Takoda's outfit, I realized that my sister had done this many more times than I had, and was on my way to Calabasas as soon as I could. I wasn't that mad at her.

It had taken impromptu calls to three stylists, and several racks of designer clothing, for us to reach a decision. Even though I was aware that there were dresses in my closet I'd never worn, this felt like a special occasion—deserving of something extra special. With that in mind, I also picked out a pair of nude, lace-up stilettos to match from the depths of my sister's shoe room. They were nice, but I was more of a heeled boots kind of girl, so I wasn't nearly as excited as she was when she saw them in my hands.

"I can't even remember when I got this," she'd gushed, turning the left shoe over in her hands like it would help her make better sense of it. "I think they were sent to me—they're Valentinos."

She told me a couple of things—you might feel blinded by the flashing lights of the cameras, but you have to keep your eyes open, especially when they're taking pictures of you; do not scowl at anyone; you don't have to answer the journalists' questions unless it's about who you're wearing or something light-hearted; anyone could be a reporter, so refrain from sharing anything remotely personal with people; paparazzi could be anywhere; most importantly, you have to try to enjoy yourself. Then there was a tutorial over FaceTime with May on Tuesday morning, before I even got the chance to shower. She told me the same things Coco did, but with more professional language.

I put the complimentary silver necklace Bee & Co. sent me in my purse to join my other jewelery, then stuffed it in the backpack I was taking along. I didn't realize it was already four-thirty-five until my phone lit up next to my suitcase with a text from Takoda.

On the 101

I picked it up to type a reply. It's four in the morning and you're texting and driving?

I'm not a caveman. May insisted she drove. She spent the night

I'm jealous, I sent before I could think about it.

The hotel bed's still yours, don't worry

You're joking right? I'm not letting you sleep on a small couch

Instead of responding, he sent me another link. Currently listening, he paired with it.

I frowned but chose not to dwell too much on it. I tied my damp hair up in a ponytail. I cleaned my face with some wipes in an effort to feel more awake. It was quite a drive from Hidden Hills to my neighborhood, so I did some calculations and only went to wake my mom up when I was sure Takoda was near, Bastille playing in my right ear on low volume. I didn't want to wake her, but she insisted on seeing me before I left. The halls were dark and quiet, and I couldn't remember the last time I walked around the house this early.

It was both parents that stepped out of the room after my gentle knock, and from the looks on their faces, they'd been awake for a while.

"Hey, sweetie," my mom whispered before pulling me into a hug, and I briefly pressed my face into her robe-covered shoulder. "Is he here yet?"

"No, but he's close. Just wanted to let you know that I might leave anytime soon."

"Take care of yourself." She gave me another hug, then let my dad have his chance to say goodbye. He'd protested a bit when he asked about accommodation plans and I told him we'd booked a single. Granted, it was pretty big for a single, with a small living room-like area and a great view of the Vegas Strip, but it still had one bed, and my father wasn't sure he was happy about that. When I asked him if he didn't trust us, he was quick to remind me that he'd been young once, while he spared a glance at my blushing mom. I didn't want to know why any of that was happening, so I told him I'd see if we could get a double, then kindly excused myself.

I ended up not knowing how to ask Takoda, not sure if it was going to jeopardize the authenticity of our relationship, so I just walked into my bathroom and stayed there long enough to have a mini breakdown over the fact that I'd be sleeping on the same bed as him with the memory of everything we'd done and almost done. I didn't trust that I had that amount of self-control even though I really wanted to believe I did.

Takoda arrived not too long after I grabbed the Tupperware of salad Mom made for me, and a bottle of water from the refrigerator. I was a little surprised to see that it was May's car on my driveway after I stepped outside, despite the fact that it made perfect sense. She popped the trunk open so I could put my suitcase in, and I made sure it was closed before I went around to the back door.

"Hey, good morning," I said in response to her as I slipped in next to Takoda with my backpack and Tupperware. His eyes were closed, and his head rested against the seat. His AirPods were put it, but I could tell he wasn't sleeping. "Is he okay?" I slammed the door shut. I couldn't really see much of May's face, but she was obviously tired.

"I think he's just sleep-deprived," she whispered conspiratorially.

"I can still hear you, May," he interjected, eyes still closed. His voice was lower than it was during the day.

May's response was to give me another smile, then she shifted the car into drive, and I tried not to feel weird that Takoda didn't say anything to me. I curled my legs up on the seat and leaned my head against the window as I watched the lights we drove past on the quiet trip to the airport. At one point, I made a video to capture the view but quickly lost interest and just wanted to sleep.

In the light of the airport, I noticed that Takoda looked a little pale. He squinted at the bright lights, his waves in his face, but I didn't ask what was wrong, choosing to wait until we were alone. While we waited for our flight announcement, he insisted on taking a photo of me, and I protested a bit before May nudged me with her elbow. Unable to say no to her, I brought my legs up to the seat just like I did in the car, gathering my hoodie in my lap. Then I crossed my eyes.

"Perfect," he said as they both shared a laugh, and I felt strangely victorious for making him laugh so early in the morning.

"Send it to Coco and I," I told him after he'd lowered his phone, and he met my eyes, but only held them for a moment before he pulled his hood over his head and looked away. He looked really good with that on. Unfairly good, if I had a say.

At some point I slid myself to the floor, tired of waiting, and May joined me.

"You good?" she asked, tugging the sleeves of her sweatshirt further down.

"I haven't been up this early in a while," I told her. "It's a little disorienting."

"Thanks for being here."

I took in the warmth in her eyes. "Well, I get to fly first-class," I joked. We weren't flying first-class. "It's a dream."

She playfully shoved me with a laugh, and I couldn't help but laugh, too. After a moment, she leaned closer to me and whispered in my ear, "Take care of him, okay? Don't let him do anything stupid." It was as if a large hand wrapped around my heart at her words, but I gave her a gentle nod.

She hugged us both when it was time to go, and Takoda had to lean down to reach her height. His arms swallowed up her frame, and for a split second I wondered if that was what they looked like around me. I was not rested enough for this.

"Don't do anything stupid," May  whispered in his ear.

As soon as Takoda and I were settled side by side in the plane, him by the window seat—which I graciously let him have—he said, "May arranged for you to get your hair and makeup done this evening before we leave."

I paused. "She did?"

"Yeah. She insisted, actually."

"Wow, that's nice. I actually brought my own supplies, but that's really nice."

He leaned back in the seat and studied me for a minute. "How tired do I look on a scale of one to ten?"

I took in his burdened, slightly narrowed eyes, noticed that his jaw ticked once, and didn't realize when I reached out to touch it until my skin was against his. I dramatically turned his head from side to side. "Maybe like a nine point five. You keep squinting."

I gently let go of his jaw, and he sighed. "The lights are hurting my eyes, and my brain hurts. I haven't really been able to sleep for days."

"The lights hurting . . ." I said. "Is it just today or . . .?"

"For a few days now. When I talked to Dr. Thierry about it on Monday, she said the headaches might be side effects of my meds. I got a new prescription a while back."

I took his hand in mine and gave it a small rub. "I could give you a head massage when we get to the hotel."

He gave me a closed-lipped smile. "I'd like that. May's hands aren't soft enough, and Coco is desperate to squeeze what's left of my brain out."

I laughed and held onto his hand for a moment longer before I let it go. "You'll be okay."

He released a humorless smile, his eyes falling to the floor. "People have been telling me that since I was sixteen," he said, as though he was tired of saying it, and his eyelids grew heavy. "Sometimes I just feel like I'm wasting resources, and Dr. Thierry's time."

"Don't say that," I whispered, taking his hand again. "When we get to the hotel, I'll give you a massage and you can rest before we have to leave for the thing, yeah?"

He took a while, but eventually nodded, and this time, he was the one that parted our hands. Then he leaned further back in his seat and turned to face the window.

For the rest of the flight, he didn't say anything to me.

I wasn't sure what I visualized the hotel to look like, but it was nothing like I expected. For starters, it was busier than I predicted—which, in hindsight, was a flaw on my part because this was Las Vegas. A glamorous crystal fountain and cute palm trees sat out front. The ground floor was wide, intimidating and well-lit, sectioned off into three parts—reception was the first thing you'd notice, then there was a lounge to the far right, and a bar in the distance to the left. The stairs literally glittered, it smelled like money, and I was incredibly dizzy as I took it all in.

Takoda stopped by reception to sign us in and get the keycard for our room, opting for us to take our things up ourselves. Our chauffeur offered to help us, but they weren't more than we could carry, and I wasn't really into all that undeserved service thing. It wasn't until we were alone in the elevator, Jon Bellion's Good Things Fall Apart playing through the AirPods we were sharing, that Takoda finally let out a breath. He leaned his head back against the reflective wall as gentle but contrasting music played above our heads.

I had a feeling I was supposed to say something as I registered how tired he was, but my lips barely parted when he angled his head towards me without moving it from the wall. His gaze met mine, and he smiled, small and soft. I tried to return it, too aware once again of how much taller he was than me.

Our floor was quiet, all the doors shut, with only the hum of working air conditioners filling the silence. He led me to room 235, then swiped the keycard through the reader, and there was an undeniable shift in the air.

The moment he could, Takoda disposed his bag and guitar case right in the middle of the faux living space of the massive hotel room. Our plastic takeout bag landed on the wooden coffee table, and he was on one of the beige couches before I could tell him to at least take off his shoes. I put down my Venti and took his bag from the criminally soft carpet, and Jon Bellion followed me as I  relocated it to the bedroom. The sleeping area was darker, posh but minimalistic, with muted colors and a few splashes of red here and there. There was another TV in here, but it was wider than the first one. The bed was perfectly made, and everything smelled clean and fresh, but I had no doubt Takoda's smell was going to take over the place in no time.

I could seriously get used to this.

I neatly arranged our things in the closet, turned the AC on, took the wireless earphone out, washed my hands, changed into leggings, a tank top, and SpongeBob socks. Then I picked out a T-shirt for Takoda. His shoes were gone by the time I returned to him, and he stared mindlessly at the ceiling with those sexy eyes of his, his share of the AirPods now lying next to our takeout and my coffee on the table.

"You should change into this," I said as I stretched the tee in his direction. His gaze slid over to me, and it was as if I'd thrown ice cubes down my back, but in a good way. Maybe it was just the enclosed space.

He took a moment to stare at the piece of clothing I was giving to him. "I think your shirt would be three sizes too small for me," he said, a small smile playing on his lips, and I lightly wacked him with it before holding it up.

"I think it's the perfect size."

Smile still intact, he sat up and took the shirt from me, then rose to his feet and took his hoodie off in one swift motion. I averted my eyes to a spot next to him at the sight of bare skin, and didn't look back until he had the tee on. I didn't know if it was because he thought I'd seen him naked enough times to not feel the need for privacy, but my stomach was in knots over it.

To distract myself, I went over to the curtains and pulled them closed to help with his headache.

"Thanks," he said behind me as he lowered himself back to the couch.

"Thank me by eating something."

He groaned, like I expected, then assumed his earlier position on the couch, placing an arm over his eyes.

"Takoda."

"I'm not hungry."

"You don't have to be hungry. It's after nine, and May told me you skipped dinner last night."

"May needs to get off my back."

"Come on, get up." I walked back to the couch and nudged him with a socked foot. I did it again and again until he got annoyed enough to grab my big toe so I didn't repeat it, then he mumbled something about the women in his life.

He didn't have any close male friends that I knew of, and every time he was caught spending time with someone, it was usually a woman. One time, I asked him why he was constantly surrounded by the female gender, and he'd only laughed and said, "Beats me. I love them, though." Then he'd grabbed me and playfully tackled me to his bed despite my protests. He waited until he was propped over me and my laughter had faded from the corners of his bedroom before he smoothed my hair back from my cheeks. His eyes had been delicate, staring down at me like I was a mesmerizing, otherworldly being. "You, especially," he'd whispered, right against my lips, stealing my response with a kiss.

I love you, too, I'd thought then, hoping my heart echoed it to him.

"Cute socks," he said, his hand lingering around my foot, and in a desperate effort to forget the memory that just flashed in my head, I scooted back on the couch. As a result, his hand fell away.

"I never truly left my Nickelodeon era."

He made a humming sound at the back of his throat, then reached out for our breakfast. We ate in silence, but the incessant chime of my phone from the bedroom cut through it every now and then. There was this unyielding force that pressed against my chest at the realization that Takoda and I didn't have anything to say to each other anymore. Or maybe we did but just didn't want to admit it. I agreed to come on this trip thinking I could treat him like a friend, clear up this fog between us, but now, blanketed by the silence of a hotel room next to him, I noted that we didn't have much on the cards for us. And my heart ached a bit when I deliberated what would become of us after all this was over.

After a moment too long spent ignoring my phone, I went to wash my hands again so I could grab it, and as I walked back to the bedroom, his gaze was a desperate weight on me.

Robin was blowing up my phone with frantic texts after pretending to be a properly functioning human in response to the photo of my coffee I'd sent her while in the car on the way to the hotel.

BABE!!!

You will not believe how good Stan looks in sweatpants

Did you ever hear him laugh?? It's beautiful

I think I'm too horny to be going on coffee dates

OMG I got the internship im dead

I'M A MODELING INTERN

They liked your maroon blazer!

Stan gave me his number. I didn't give him mine, just promised to text

By the time I was done responding to her, none of my texts had been read, so I let out a sigh and begged my brain to get tired enough so I could fall asleep and evade this awkwardness. I scrolled through Instagram for a while, letting the cold from the air conditioner seep into me, hoping it'd help my cause. I listened to a Blinding Lights cover. I watched some videos on TikTok, watched a dramatic episode from a past season of Coco Says, but my eyes remained wide awake, as though I'd dreamed all this up. Takoda remained quiet in the next room, and for a brief moment I wondered what he was doing, if he'd fallen asleep.

According to my phone, it was already fifteen past ten, and out of the blue, I remembered I'd promised him a head massage in the plane.

I tucked my phone beneath one of the pillows and sat up. I twisted the ring on my finger for a moment, then took out the elastic band holding my hair up. "Hey, Takoda?"

"Yeah?" He sounded tired, and I almost changed my mind.

Take care of him.

"Can you come over here?"

There was silence for a while, then I heard shuffling and the faint sound of footsteps. He stopped in the doorway, as though there was an invisible boundary in place, and I tried not to stare at the way the T-shirt I picked out for him hugged his biceps. "Yeah?"

I moved so I could sit cross-legged, then looked at him expectantly, aware that he understood what it meant. He hesitated the same way he had at his place, and I got it. The memory of what happened then was still fresh in my mind, but I chose to believe we were informed enough to not let it repeat itself.

"It doesn't really ache anymore," he offered quietly after a second of standing there.

"It doesn't matter. I made a promise."

His jaw ticked again, but he came over to me, and I noticed that this time he didn't make eye contact. He just lay down and placed his head in my lap, then closed his eyes, drawing one leg up. I started where I always did, in the middle of his forehead, placing my thumbs side by side and gently drawing them in opposing circles, before gradually spreading out, applying more pressure in some places than the others. We didn't talk this time, probably for the better, and I think I spent about five minutes massaging and studying his features like I always did, before his left hand came up around my wrist to stop me. His touch settled in the depths of my stomach, and I pushed down the shiver that pressed up against my spine as he retracted his fingers.

In a blink, he was on his feet. "Thanks. Think I'm good for now."

I dumbly stared after him as he walked back to the door, and just when he was about to disappear from sight, I asked, "You don't actually plan on giving me the bed, do you?"

He paused with a hand on the doorframe and looked at me with an expression I couldn't read. Then he gave me another small smile. "I made a promise."

"That couch is way too small for you, Takoda."

"Don't worry about me," he told me over his shoulder as he walked back into the short hallway that lead to the other half of our room.

"Then let me take the couch. You paid for all of this."

"I didn't, and I'm not letting you sleep on the couch."

"Takoda."

"Cleo, drop it. You should get some sleep—we're leaving by six."

I sat there long after our conversation ended, digesting everything, recalling how he grabbed my hand. Then I lay back down and pushed my fingers through my hair, holding back the groan that clawed at my throat.

Was I frustrated? Understatement of the decade. 

like my love said in the comments of last chapter: "that's the beautiful thing about vegas. responsibility doesn't have to exist there." i'm not sure i quoted that to detail, and am too lazy to check, but that's our official anthem for all the Sin City Chaps™. see you in the next one!

p.s. if you caught the taylor swift reference in this chapter, you're my bestie.