The Dating Games Series Volume One

by T. K. Leigh

“I did think of it.” I relax into my plush lounge chair, bringing my espresso to my lips as we sit in a quiet corner of the airline club. The hectic atmosphere of the airport is nowhere to be found. No screaming children being ignored by their parents who are exhausted after a long day of traveling. No annoying businessmen who feel the need to shout on their cellphones in the hopes that someone thinks they’re important. No assholes bitching out the poor airline employee who had nothing to do with the delay of the flight going to Denver, where there’s probably snow. In here, I’m able to have a moment of peace.

  “A name is usually the first thing I ask,” she interjects before I can say anything else. “You’d think with all the time you spent ‘bumping’ into each other this weekend, you would have gotten that much.”

  “It’s just… Every time I saw him…” I shake my head, struggling to come up with the words to describe how his mere presence consumed me. Normally, I’m the confident one. I’m the one calling the shots. I’m the one saying whatever’s on my mind without a care for what anyone thinks about me. But not around him. “It was quiet,” I finish thoughtfully.

  “Quiet?” Izzy gives me a sideways glance. “What do you mean?”

  I place my espresso on the table separating us and lean closer, lowering my voice. “All the noise of my life. It was…gone.”

  Understanding immediately washes over her, and her expression relaxes.

  Izzy’s one of the few people who truly knows me, all my secrets, all my scars. Yes, Nora’s been a great friend since we were college roommates, and once Evie was assigned the cubicle next to mine at the magazine, we formed a quick bond, considering she lacks any brain-to-mouth filter, much like myself. But Izzy knew me before. She knew me when my parents were still together. She knew me when it all fell apart, when I had to lie to my father about being sick so I could miss my weekend with him to take care of my mother during another one of her drinking binges. Something no teenage girl should have to do. But what choice did I have? She was the only family I had left after my father upgraded to a new one.

  “Sometimes you just need someone to quiet it for a minute,” she remarks.

  “Because of that, I didn’t think a name was necessary.” We share a look before I curl my lips into a wicked grin, lightening the mood. “You do have to admit the entire scenario is kind of hot. Not knowing his name, anything about him…”

  “Kind of hot?” She fans herself, giggling. “Try off the charts! I noticed the chemistry between you two right away, even if all he did was kiss your cheek. It was incredibly…sexy. I can’t imagine how it made you feel.”

  “Like I could let go,” I reply without hesitating. “For once, I didn’t worry about the fact that we’re polar opposites. That he’s presumably this guy who has his shit together, whereas I’m lucky if I don’t lock myself out of my apartment on a daily basis. But each time I saw him, I didn’t think about any of that, didn’t try to distance myself because of how it would play out. It’s almost like we were in our own little bubble.”

  “Bubbles can be good.” Then her eyes turn conniving. “Especially a bubble that sexy.”

  We both break into laughter. I lean back into my chair, at ease with the familiarity of joking with one of my oldest friends. If nothing else, at least I got to spend a little more time with Izzy this weekend than I usually do. While we both live in New York, her job as a nurse in the pediatric oncology unit at one of the local hospitals doesn’t give her much time off. Izzy’s one of those friends who you can go months without seeing, then pick back up as if you just saw them yesterday.

  “So, what do you think the girls are up to today?” I ask after a few minutes.

  “Knowing Bernadette, something cliché and inappropriate.”

  I roll my eyes. “Promise me if I ever get that lonely and desperate for attention, you’ll smack some sense into me and tell me I don’t need to stay in a loveless marriage. That there’s better out there for me.”

  “You know I will.”

  A chiming cuts through and I float my eyes to the coffee table to see a text from my mother wishing me safe travels. I grab my cell and fire off a quick response, not wanting her to worry.

  “She doing okay?” Izzy asks, obviously having seen who the text was from.

  “Yeah.” I take another drink of my espresso, finishing it. “She’s been dating this guy who works in the same building.” I stare into the distance, smiling. “It’s actually a sweet story. Somehow, they kept riding up to their floors in the same elevator. After about a week, he mentioned it to her. Said he couldn’t ignore it anymore, that it was a sign.”

  “Hmm… A sign?” She smirks knowingly.

  “That’s not the same thing,” I argue, fully aware what she’s referring to. “Mom works in the same building as Aaron. There’s a decent likelihood of running into him again. This thing with me and…whoever he is, well…it’s different. I have a better chance of winning the lottery than seeing him again.”

  Izzy shrugs. “You’re probably right, but what if you do?”

  “It’ll never happen,” I say incredulously. “I’m about to get on a flight back to New York. He was headed…” I wave my hand around, “wherever. So yeah. Not going to happen.”

  “But if it does?”

  “It won’t,” I insist.

  “But if it does?” she presses again.

  “It won’t.”

  “Yeah, but if it does?”

  I groan, remembering how persistent and annoying Izzy can be. This could go on for hours, even days. “Fine. If by some miracle I do see him again, maybe I’ll admit there might be a reason for it all.”

  She nods, leaning back in her chair, happy with herself.

  “But it won’t happen.”

  She glares at me, feigning annoyance. “Always have to have the last word, don’t you?”

  I grin. “Always.”

  My phone dings again and I reach for it, assuming it’s a reply from my mother. Unlocking the screen, I see an alert from the airline.

  “Shit,” I mutter as Izzy’s phone begins to beep.

  “What is it?” She scrambles for her cell, presumably reading the same message I received. “Dammit.”

  “Yup. Flight to JFK is canceled.”

  She groans, closing her eyes in frustration. “Just how I want to spend my day. Stuck in the airport.”

  “And not any airport,” I remind her, pointing at the busy terminal that resides just outside the lounge, the subtle sound of slot machines inching their way into our peaceful recluse. “McCarran Airport in fabulous Las Vegas.” My voice is laden with sarcasm. “If the Strip is the tenth circle of hell, this place is purgatory.”

  “Glad to see all those literature classes paid off.”

  “What flight did they rebook you on?” I ask, opening the airline’s app on my phone to get my new flight information.

  “Red-eye. Eleven PM. And here’s the kicker. No seat assignment available.” She holds out her phone so I can see her new itinerary.

  “Me, too.” I mirror her movement.

  “It looks like they’re cramming everyone onto that flight. What are the chances of us actually getting on?”

  “I’d like to say they wouldn’t rebook us just to tell us no in ten hours.”

  “My mother used to work for an airline. They absolutely would do such a thing.” She pinches her lips together, deep in thought, then jumps up. “I’ll be right back.” A woman on a mission, she starts toward the front desk of the lounge.

  While Izzy speaks to an agent for what I presume to be a solution, I return my attention to my phone, opening the web browser to see if there are any other options. Despite it being a Tuesday and a light travel day, most of the flights to JFK are sold out or, if there are seats available, are way out of my price range. Not to mention, it’s after one in the afternoon. The next flight into New York doesn’t leave until later tonight, even on a different airline.

  “Hey,” Izzy says breathlessly. I look up f
rom my phone, eyes brimming with hope. “I can get us guaranteed seats on the noon flight tomorrow. The red-eye is oversold and they’ll most likely be forced to rebook again if they can’t get enough people with confirmed seats to give them up. You in? Guaranteed seats or take a risk on the red-eye.”

  I push out an aggravated breath, pinching the bridge of my nose. As much as I hate the idea of staying in Vegas another night and having to waste even more vacation time, it doesn’t seem like there’s an option.

  “Guaranteed seats.”

  “Give me your boarding pass and I’ll get you rebooked.”

  I grab my phone and find my boarding pass, then hand it to her.

  “Thanks. Be right back.”

  I watch as she scurries back to the front desk. She’s come a long way from the little girl who was too scared to approach Hannah and me when her family first moved into the neighborhood. Now, Izzy’s a typical New Yorker. Confident. Assured. And always gets her way.

  After a few minutes, she returns and hands me my phone along with a new airline printout. “Here you go. You’re all set.”

  “Thanks,” I say, surprised at her efficiency. If she weren’t here, I would have sucked it up and hung around the airport in the hopes of getting on the red-eye. But now that we’re flying out tomorrow, there’s another problem.

  “Umm… Izzy, we can’t go back to the same hotel, not unless we want to get roped into day 317 of the never-ending bachelorette party.”

  A sly smile builds on her lips. “Don’t worry. I’ve got that covered, too.”

  Chapter Five

  “Where the hell are we?” I ask as our Uber driver slows to a stop in front of a gated driveway on the outskirts of Vegas. “David Copperfield’s house?”

  “No.” Izzy rolls her eyes. “But my sources say he lives around here somewhere.”

  “Sources? What sources? I’m your source for all things celebrity.”

  “Maybe there are some things about me you don’t know.” She passes me a devious grin before opening the door, stepping onto the street. A little bewildered, I take a minute to collect my things. When she said she had a friend who was more than happy to let us stay the night, I didn’t expect to pull up in front of a piece of property that looks like it belongs in Bel Air.

  A knock on the window rips my attention away from the impressive entrance and I snap my eyes to Izzy as she opens my door.

  “Are you coming? Or do you want to call Bernadette and see if you can crash with her tonight? Maybe stay up and do a makeover, then go to some Pure Romance party.”

  “I wouldn’t mind going to a Pure Romance party.” I scoot out of the car. “I’m all for women exploring their sexuality. But I’d pass on the Bernadette makeover,” I say as I head toward where our driver stands, holding the handle of my suitcase for me. “With the amount of makeup she’d cake on my face and the revealing outfit she’d stuff me in, I’d come out of there looking like a blowup doll.” Smiling, I take my bag from the driver as he eyes me up and down, discreetly adjusting the waist of his pants.

  The Vegas sun beating down on us, I follow Izzy toward the front gate, watching as she enters a code into a box. I can’t help but feel like she hasn’t been forthcoming about who we’re staying with. Granted, I’m not as close to her as I once was, but she would have mentioned knowing someone who owned a palace in Vegas, wouldn’t she?

  “Are you coming?” she asks when the gate opens and she continues up the elaborate drive.

  “I suppose…,” I respond in a drawn-out voice, taking slow steps toward her as I absorb my surroundings. The driveway is made of pavers, the brick matching that of the flowerbeds lining it, which are filled with succulents. Palm trees shade the path, as well as offer privacy to the occupants.

  As we round the corner, the house finally coming into view, my jaw drops. I knew we were in a wealthy neighborhood, but I didn’t expect this. The sprawling two-story house looks like a snapshot from a home design magazine, a rare peek into how the rich and famous of Las Vegas live and play.

  I glance at Izzy, my curiosity increasing with every step. She knew the exact house we were going to, told the driver to stop when he was about to pass it. That means she’s been here before.

  “Iz?” I say as we approach the short flight of steps leading to the front door.

  She stops, flashing her eyes to mine, a single brow raised.

  “Who lives here?”

  “Just an old friend from my undergrad days.” She avoids my inquisitive stare, smoothing a lock of nearly jet-black hair behind her ear, her olive-toned skin becoming flushed.

  “A…friend? Does this ‘friend’ happen to be of the male persuasion?”

  “Yes.” She holds her head high, but still doesn’t look directly at me.

  “Call me crazy—”

  “You certainly are.”

  “But I get the feeling there’s more to the story than this guy…” I wave my hand around at our surroundings, everything pristine and glamorous, “being just a ‘friend’.”

  Her eyes finally meet mine, a flash of indecision filling them. I can physically feel her turmoil, like she wants to tell someone whatever this is, but is scared of the potential backlash. Izzy has a habit of taking everyone’s feelings into account with every decision.

  I rest my hand on her arm. “What is it? You can tell me anything.”

  “I know that. But this…” She shakes her head, conflicted, pulling her lip between her teeth. When she looks at me again, a hint of shame covers her expression. Her shoulders fall. “It’s Asher York.”

  I remain motionless as the name rings out between us. “Asher York as in Jessie York’s older brother?”

  She blows out a nervous laugh. “It’s not exactly a common name, is it?”

  “Asher York, the handsome, struggling musician?”

  “Yup.”

  “The Asher York with a singing voice that makes you forget your name?”

  “That’s the one.”

  “The Asher York who looks like a fucking Adonis with a guitar strapped to him?”

  “Yes, Chloe. That Asher York,” she admits, her voice growing louder, her face blushing even more as the tension momentarily lightens.

  “The Asher York who would have been your brother-in-law if you hadn’t smartened up and called off your engagement to Jessie?”

  Her expression falls and she slowly nods. “Exactly.”

  I stare at her, unsure how to react to this. She still didn’t admit anything’s going on between them, but she doesn’t have to. I can see it in her eyes as she silently pleads with me not to make a big deal out of this. And I won’t.

  I never liked Jessie to begin with. He was arrogant, pompous, and conceited. They dated in college. Got engaged young. I pretended to be happy for her. She’s my friend, after all. Deep down, I questioned whether it would last, considering they were both so young…too young to decide to get married. Thankfully, she realized that before it was too late, thanks to Jessie not being able to keep his dick in his pants.

  “Well…” I take in my surroundings, my voice brightening. “It looks like Asher’s not a struggling musician anymore, is he?”

  “Oh, this isn’t his place. He’s just kind of…staying here.”

  “Like, house sitting?”

  “Not exactly. He, uh…”

  Before she can finish her sentence, the door swings open and we both snap our heads to the entryway. I almost can’t believe my eyes when they fall on Asher York leaning against the doorjamb, arms crossed in front of his chest, his biceps stretching the fabric of his shirt, a wicked smile on his full lips as he admires Izzy.

  This is not the same Asher York I remember from all those years ago. He’s more mature, more muscular, more…experienced. There are hints of the man I saw a handful of times during some of Izzy’s pre-wedding festivities, but his short, dark hair is now longer, the strong jawline sporting a sexy five o’clock shadow. It’s only been six or seven years, but he seems like
a different person. Then again, he could probably say the same about me.

  “When I told you it was okay for you both to crash here, I meant inside the house. Not on the front stoop,” he jokes, his eyes never leaving Izzy.

  “Hey, Ash.” A blush blooms on her cheeks, her lips kicking up into a brilliant smile. Then she looks away, nervously pushing her hair behind her ear. “Thanks for this.”

  “It’s nothing, Iz. You know that.” His words are laden with a sincerity I feel deep in my core. “I was thrilled to hear your voice, considering I thought you’d be 35,000 feet in the air by now.”

  “I guess the universe had different plans.”

  “I guess so.”

  Izzy peers up at him through thick lashes, her chest rising and falling in a quicker pattern. Something about the way Asher holds her gaze makes me think he doesn’t want to look away. Then he glances in my direction, clearing his throat.

  “Chloe. Good to see you again. I like the hair. It suits you.”

  I pass him a wry smile. “Thanks for letting us stay here.”

  “Anytime. I’d never turn away a friend in need.” He steps back, gesturing for us to enter the house.

  I lean into Izzy. “Hear that? He’ll never turn away a friend in need, Iz.” I waggle my eyebrows at her as we walk into the magnificent foyer complete with high ceilings and modern chandelier hanging overhead.

  “Oh, hush. It’s not like that.”

  I grin. “You want it to be like that, though, right?”

  Chewing on her lower lip, she shrugs. “Maybe.”

  “All right, Asher,” I say when Izzy and I step into the kitchen after getting a brief tour of the luxurious house and changing into our bathing suits. “Whose house is this?” I turn around slowly, craning my head back, my voice seeming to echo against the tile in the cavernous space. “Izzy said you’re not house sitting, so what are you doing in a place like this?”

  “Don’t think I can afford it myself?” He looks up from forming a mixture of ground beef and onions into patties.

  “Last I heard, you were playing bars in LA, trying to make it big.”