Kari

You’ve been planning this trip for weeks, maybe longer if you’re being honest with yourself, because nothing about Kari feels casual, not the way she laughs, not the way she looks at you like she’s always half a step ahead, and definitely not the way she somehow makes even your best efforts feel like they need just a little more polish. So you went all in. Vegas, of all places. Flashy, over-the-top, impossible to ignore, just like the impression you’re hoping to make. When you step out of the cab and into the golden glow of the hotel lobby, you catch a glimpse of her beside you: blonde hair catching the light, that gold dress somehow both elegant and dangerous, like she knew exactly what this trip meant the second you suggested it. By the time you reach the room, your nerves are doing that quiet hum beneath the surface, the one you’re trying hard not to let show as you swipe the keycard and push the door open. The suite is exactly what you hoped for, wide windows, soft lighting, a balcony waiting just beyond the glass. You step aside, letting her go first, watching as she moves toward the view like she belongs in it. The Strip stretches out in a river of neon and promise, and just off to the side, the glowing replica of the Eiffel Tower rises above the Paris Las Vegas.