Chapter 2
Madison's POV
He went completely still. For a horrible second I thought I'd totally misread this and was about to get rejected in the most humiliating way possible. But then he looked at me, really looked at me, like he was checking if I meant it.
"Yeah," he said quietly. "Okay."
Getting the room was a blur. Fumbling with the key card, my heart pounding so hard I could hear it. The second the door closed I kissed him, pushed him against the wall with a desperation that surprised even me. He kissed back immediately, hands on my waist, in my hair, pulling me closer like he needed this just as bad.
"I just want to forget everything tonight," I said against his mouth.
"Fine." He kissed me harder.
I woke up to pale light coming through white curtains. My head hurt a little, not a full hangover but close. The bed next to me was empty but still warm. Water running in the bathroom.
Oh my God.
Everything came back. The bar. The talking. What did I just do?
Through the bathroom door I could see his shape behind the frosted glass. Broad shoulders. Lean body. My face got hot.
I need to get out of here. Now.
I grabbed my clothes off the floor as quietly as I could and got dressed in like thirty seconds. Purse, shoes, phone. The shower was still running. I didn't leave a note or anything. Just got the hell out.
At the my room, I kept replaying it. His face. His voice. The way his body felt against mine. How good it was.
Stop. It was a one-night stand. You're literally never going to see him again. Get over it.
But I couldn't stop thinking about it. About him.
I spent the rest of that day wandering the strip, trying to distract myself. Went to a few shops, got coffee, sat by the pool pretending to read. But my mind kept drifting back to that hotel room.
What is wrong with me?
I came here to escape Dylan, to clear my head, and what did I do? Hooked up with a random guy in a hotel bar. Real mature, Madison. Really taking control of your life.
By the second day, the guilt was eating at me. Not guilt about Chase, that part I didn't regret. But guilt about myself. About being the kind of person who ran away from her problems and then made impulsive decisions. I'd always prided myself on being responsible, put-together. And here I was, hiding out in Vegas after a one-night stand like some character in a rom-com.
This is stupid. I should just go home.
The funny thing was, I hadn't heard from Dylan since I'd left LA. Not a single text. Maybe Lily was right, maybe he'd finally gotten bored and moved on. Or maybe he was just regrouping, planning his next move. Either way, sitting in Vegas alone wasn't helping anything.
I checked my phone for the hundredth time that morning. Still nothing from Dylan. And obviously nothing from Chase, because we hadn't exchanged numbers. Because it was just a one-night stand. Because that's all it was supposed to be.
Time to go home and face real life.
I cancelled the rest of my hotel reservation that afternoon, changed my flight to the next morning, and started packing. It felt like admitting defeat, somehow. Like I'd run away and achieved nothing except a hangover and some regret.
But also... not regret? I couldn't figure out how I felt about any of it.
The flight back to LA felt longer than the flight there. I kept replaying the whole trip in my head, the bar, Chase's smile, waking up alone, running away like a coward. By the time I landed, I'd convinced myself I was an idiot and needed to tell someone about it.
I called Lily the second I got home.
"You're back already?" she answered. "I thought you were gone for a week."
"Change of plans." I dropped my suitcase by the door and collapsed on my couch. "I need to tell you something."
"Oh God, what happened? Did Dylan show up?"
"No, nothing like that. I..." I took a breath. "I kind of had a one-night stand."
Silence. Then: "I'm sorry, what?"
"I met this guy at the hotel bar. We talked, we drank, and then we... you know. And then I freaked out in the morning and left before he woke up."
"Madison Carter, responsible architect who color-codes her calendar, had a one-night stand in Vegas?" Lily sounded delighted. "I'm honestly proud of you."
"Don't be. I feel like an idiot."
"Why? Was it bad?"
"No." I felt my face heat up. "It was really good, actually. That's the problem."
"How is that a problem?"
"Because I don't do this, Lily. I don't hook up with random guys in hotel bars. I don't run away from my life. And now I can't stop thinking about him, which is insane because I'm literally never going to see him again, and I'm probably just projecting because I'm still messed up about Dylan—"
"Okay, breathe," Lily interrupted. "First of all, you didn't 'run away from your life.' You took a much-needed vacation. Second, there's nothing wrong with a one-night stand if you both wanted it. And third, you're allowed to feel however you feel about it."
I groaned. "I just feel stupid. Like I went to Vegas to figure my shit out and instead I just created more confusion."
"Well, did it at least help you forget about Dylan?"
I thought about it. "Yeah, actually. I haven't thought about him much at all."
"Then mission accomplished. And hey, at least you didn't—"
My phone buzzed. Another call coming through.
Dad.
"Lily, I gotta go. My dad's calling."
"Okay, but we're not done talking about this! I want details!"
I switched over. "Hey, Dad—"
"Madison, we need to discuss your future."
I closed my eyes.
"I'm twenty-five. I have a good job—"
"And no stability. Your mother and I have been patient, but it's time you settled down." He had that voice on, the one that meant the discussion was over before it started. "I've set up a dinner in tomorrow. Seven PM at The Ivy. Richard Harrison's son. Smart, successful, from a good family. You'll like him."
"Dad, I can't just—"
"Tomorrow. Seven PM. Don't be late."
He hung up.
I stared at my phone. Of course he'd pull this now. Perfect timing.
Next day. I stood outside The Ivy in a simple black dress, trying to psych myself up for small talk with some random guy my father picked out.
Just get through this. Be polite. Then tell Dad it didn't work out.
I found the private room Dad had texted me about and opened the door.
And stopped breathing.
The guy from Vegas. Same face. Same jaw. Same dark eyes. Sitting at the table looking just as shocked as I felt. His eyes went wide, his mouth opened slightly like he was about to say something, but nothing came out. We just stared at each other across the table, and I could feel my face getting hot.
Oh my God. Oh my God.
This was the guy I'd fucked in Vegas less than a week ago.
I'm going to throw up.
No. This isn't real. This can't be happening.
But it was.
My Vegas one-night stand was my blind date.
