She rolled her eyes. "Suit yourself, but I'm not the one who's going to be dreaming about the chocolate chip cookies tomorrow."
After standing in line behind what seemed like a never-ending stream of old ladies—Zoe was quick to give Ian an "I told you so" glare—they headed inside and loaded their plates. To his surprise, just about everything Zoe had told him was true. The sushi was incredible, and the turkey was dry. The prime rib was delicious, and so was the shrimp.
"You really know your stuff," he told her when she sauntered back to their table with a plate loaded with desserts. "What's all this?" he asked, pointing at the platter.
"Well, the desserts are really hit or miss. Quinn and I used to get one plate with the works to tell which were worth eating. It's the only wasteful thing we do here."
"Well, let's try it, then."
For a moment, she looked taken aback, but then she scooted the plate into the middle of the table.
Ian stabbed a vanilla cupcake and shoveled it into his mouth. "Perfect," he said.
She tried it then rolled her eyes. "You are a dessert charlatan."
"What do you mean?" he laughed.
"This is fine, but it's not worth your limited stomach space. Let's try this." She cut into something that looked like a perfect ball of ice cream coated in strawberry syrup.
Closing her eyes, she savored the bite. Then her tongue darted out to grab the last morsels. "This is good. Cheesecake."
He wrinkled his nose. "Not for me. Never been a cheesecake guy."
Her eyes widened. "I always knew there was something wrong with you."
He laughed and together they went through the rest of the plate, chiding each others’ tastes until there was nothing left to try.
Through it all, he found himself smiling, laughing at her little digs and her expert-level of awareness. Suddenly, he realized he'd never seen Zoe like this. He'd always seen her around her sister, defensive and irritated, but never really in her element. Never enjoying herself. It was charming and new and… intriguing. As she took another bite of cheesecake,
he found himself staring at her lips, watching her tongue dart out again to savor every last bit of her dessert.
A surge of awareness shot through him at the sight of her tongue, and he cleared his throat.
"All right," he said. "Looks like it's time to hit the casino floor."
Four
As they glided down the escalator, Zoe pulled her phone from her pocket and glanced at the time. It was barely seven o'clock, and they still had the entire evening to kill. Thinking hard, she tried to remember how close the nearest low-rate movie theater was, but she was sure it had probably closed down by now, just like everything else in this good-for-nothing town.
"So, what's your poison?" Ian asked. The clang and clatter of machines grew louder as they made their way toward the casino floor.
"What do you mean?" Zoe asked.
"I mean, are you a blackjack girl? You seem like the poker type. Serious." He nodded.
She gaped at him. "Oh no, I've never played."
"Never? In all the times you've come here?"
"Exactly. Who would?" She shook her head, remembering all the times when, even after her twenty-first birthday, she'd refused to follow her father onto the red-and-gold-patterned casino carpeting.
"Come on. You have to try it sometime," he said then stepped from the escalator and motioned to the floor. A thin cloud of smoke hovered over the machines, the newest ones dinging and glittery in the foreground of the room as always.
In her mind, she could hear her father's husky, cigarette-raspy voice. "You never play those. You want the ones in the back. The old suckers—the older the better. That's where the real money is."
Except the real money was never anywhere in this place. The real money was for the people who owned it, the people who had her college fund and the money she might have used on a prom dress if she'd ever gotten to go.
"I don't think so. Let's go to a mall or find a movie," she suggested, but he elbowed her gently.