The Diary of Lexi Ashford (Lexi Ashford: Part One) (8 page)

There’s a chorus of “Oh, yeah,” and one snide, “Oh, you mean the girl who had really short arms. Didn’t we make up a nickname for her, like Lexi T-Rexi or something?” The wind’s blowing, and she’s clutching on to her tiara like her life depends on it. I make a mental note to steal her tiara when I get a chance and make her watch me break it in half before I throw it off a roof.

Emersyn gives me a sympathetic look before hopping into the passenger seat of the car.

As the four of them pile into the back and middle seat of the SUV, Carrie plops a tiara down on my head. When I start to protest, she holds up her hand. “Everyone at the party has to wear one, Lexi, so be a trooper.”

“But Emersyn isn’t wearing one.” I sulk with my arms folded.

“That’s because she’s allergic to cubic zirconium,” Carrie Lynn says, dead serious.

Sure she is. Dammit! Why couldn’t I come up with an excuse like that?

Emersyn catches my eye through the window and puts her finger to her lips, begging me not to say anything.

Carrie Lynn puts her foot on the sidestep, hoists herself into the middle seat, and then pats the spot beside her. “Now, come on. I promise you that, by the end of the car ride, you’ll be wearing that tiara proudly.”

Yeah, there’s a better chance of the sky raining tiny cupids onto my head then that ever happening. But I force a smile, knowing there’s no use going on this road trip being a Debbie downer, even if I’m being forced to wear a plastic princess crown that, for some reason, smells like cotton candy.

Chapter 10

Man, I never thought the drive to Vegas could be so long.

For the first couple of hours, Carrie Lynn and her friends are super energized and giggly. Then, about an hour away from the city, they hit this phase where their energy level goes way down. When they begin reminiscing about their weddings, I discover all four of them are married, and three of them have kids. Emersyn and Evan are the only ones not towing around a ball and chain, but Emersyn is four years younger than me, so she doesn’t count.

Then they start drilling me with questions, asking if I’m married, and when I say I’m not, they gape at me like I sprouted a unicorn horn out of my forehead. Can you say awkward?

I feel like a loser for being so far behind in life, and it makes me want to change even more. I silently vow to myself that, from tomorrow on, I’m going to be Miss Responsible, Pay Her Bills Before They’re Due, Check Her Bank Account Frequently, Figure Out Who the Hell I Want to Be. Start moving forward. Get a real job and work super hard. Save some money. Establish a career. Buy my own furniture. Get out of Fairville. Live in a better part of the city. Hell, maybe if I’m lucky, in a year or two, I’ll be throwing my own bachelorette party and making everyone do arts and crafts.

The second we pull into the city, their energy soars through the roof again.

“Look at that man wearing a diaper.” Carrie Lynn points out the window, her eyes wide as she gapes in sheer awe at the vibrant, lively, sinfully strange city.

I giggle at the sight of the man handing out flyers while rocking a silver painted diaper and diamond feather wings. Hey, look at that. The sky must have heard me when I said there was a better chance of it raining tiny cupids onto my head than me ever proudly wearing a tiara.

Okay, so technically the sky probably didn’t rain him down, but still, it’s cloudy, and he had to come from somewhere. Maybe that’s why I’m perfectly okay with the tiara on my head. Either that or the fact that Emersyn and I kept sneaking tequila shots during the drive. And by shots, I mean I’ve been chugging my sorrows away from a big, old cup.

Poor Evan had to endure the ride sober. He did it so quietly, just nodding his head along whenever someone yammered his ear off.

Watching him, I begin to wonder how I didn’t see it, how I didn’t recognize him as Silver, the sweet Emo kid who helped me pass chemistry.

About twenty minutes after pulling into the city, we park in the hotel parking garage. Carrie Lynn and her friends immediately head inside without bothering to help with the luggage, saying they’re going to get checked in/play the tables/find a sexy piece of man candy with a tight ass—it was really hard to sort through all the stuff they were shouting as they stumbled toward the doors.

Emersyn stays behind with us, seizing the opportunity to light up a cigarette and have “sexy, skanky phone time with her boy toy back home!” Thankfully, she wanders away from the car while making the call, because I’m pretty sure I caught, “tweak your nipples” and “tongue fuck your belly button” before she got out of ear range.

“I figured it out,” I announce to Evan as I help him collect everyone’s bags from the back of the SUV.

He arches a brow in disbelief as he starts to stack the suitcases onto the ground. “Is that so?”

I circle a finger in the air and almost topple over as the world spins with the movement. “You think I’m gonna try to lie to you again, but I’m not.” I brace my hand against the bumper to keep from tipping over.

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.”

Evan covers his mouth with his hand, choking back his laughter.

Carrie Lynn is quiet for a while. At first, I think she might be buying it, but then she crosses her arms and raises her brows. “I know you’re lying, Lexi, but I’m going to let you off the hook. And you want to know why?” Even though I really don’t, I nod. “Because I love glitter, and I think it’s meant to be shared. Plus, that excuse you just gave was really creative. I hope you’ll be able to put some of that creativity into arts and crafts time.”

My mood nosedives right into the bin of glitter. “Arts and crafts time?”

She bobs her head up and down, her eyes lighting up. “After we get settled into our rooms, we’re going to meet up in mine and make matching T-shirts!” And just like that, she goes from angry to elated in two seconds flat.

She may annoy me to no end, but I kind of envy her ability to get over stuff in the snap of a finger. It makes me feel the tiniest drop of guilt as I start racking my brain for how I’m going to fake food poisoning to blow off arts and crafts time. But I’m not about to back out on that plan.