Jonas pulls me by the hand along after him as we head into an area that I definitely recognize, the buffet. I’ve already seen one of these, given that my hotel has the exact same setup casino below, buffet room above, and rooms above that.
I love the buffets in Vegas. They’re incredible. Foods from every corner of the world, every type of cuisine, laid out on such long tables you can barely understand everything that you’re looking at. Some hot, some cold, starters and mains and desserts and drinks, everything you could possibly wish for.
It always makes me feel like a total glutton – and I love it.
A waiter greets us and takes us over to a private table, situated apart from the main rabble. “What’s this?” I ask Jonas in a hushed tone as the waiter takes our drink order and then disappears.
“The VIP section, of course,” he says, grinning at me. “Everything has a VIP section in Vegas. Even things that look like they shouldn’t.”
“What’s special about it?” I ask, glancing around.
“Well, we get our drinks delivered to the table, as you can see,” Jonas reports. He nods to a line near the door – not the one we came in by but situated right at the front of the buffet hall in the center. “We also get to skip the line and get right to our table. And we don’t actually have to pay for the food.”
“Wow,” I sigh. “I can’t believe how much extra service you get just for betting a bit more.”
Jonas shrugs. “The house knows it will make the money back on the bets you lose. Besides, it wasn’t just a bit more, to be fair. You did see how much Tom was putting down, right?”
I bury my head in my hands momentarily. “I could hardly miss it. How does someone get to the point where it’s possible to not care about losing enough money to buy a small car?”
“I guess you get there right around the point that you own enough big cars to cover all your needs,” Jonas smirks. “You want to get up and grab some food?”
“I do,” I grin, getting up. “I love this, by the way. The buffet. It’s so much fun.”
Jonas breaks out into a smile, which may or may not be in relief. “I thought you would,” he says. “The chance to choose whatever you want and pile up as much or as little as you like – somehow, I thought this would be more your speed than the fancy restaurant from the other night.”
“Right,” I laugh, but then my heart drops. “Um. That’s okay, isn’t it?”
Jonas picks up two plates from the pile of freshly-washed options and hands me one. “It’s more than okay. It’s just your style. It doesn’t mean I think less of you?”
“Really?” I breathe a sigh of relief. “Good. It’s not like I didn’t like the fancy place at all. The food was really good. It’s just… this is more comfortable. And I feel like a kid in a candy shop, getting the chance to choose whatever I want.”
“I like it, too,” Jonas says as we cross over to the first row of food trays and start deliberating on what to go for. “I haven’t done this kind of thing in a long time. You know, I think you might be good for me.”
“Tom seems to think so,” I say lightly, but really my heart thrills at the idea of it. Was he right? Am I making Jonas better, lighter, happier?
“I think he’s right,” Jonas says, confirming my hopes and making my heart soar in my chest.
Although, there is still one more thing that I wonder about I don’t know if I’m overreacting. Maybe he’s like this every time he has a fling with some girl who’s only in town on vacation.
“Has he met any of your past girlfriends?” I ask, mentally regretting the word choice immediately. It makes it sound like I’m assuming myself to be his girlfriend now, which isn’t at all the case.
“No,” Jonas says. “There haven’t been any past girlfriends for him to meet.”
“Oh,” I say, as casually as I can, picking up a slice of pizza. My hand lingers over a garlic dough ball, but I move on. I might have a chance to kiss him again later, after all. “So, you haven’t dated anyone since you came to Las Vegas?”
“That much is true,” Jonas says. When I look back at him to try to assess what exactly he means, given the strange phrasing, his eyes seem to twinkle back at me.
Huh.
It’s like he’s playing with me, making a joke. But I just don’t get the punchline.
I busy myself with picking up more things to eat, by the time we get to the end of the first row my plate is half full.