Second Chance: A Military Football Romance

"Not for you?" she asked.

I put my controller down and took her hand. "No. I spent a lot of my life setting aside what I really wanted to do. That's over now."

Her lips were only inches from mine. I wanted to move, to kiss her, but I could not. Our eyes held as if some greater force had paused us there.

#

I took a deep breath. "We should go to Vegas."

Quinn's eyes opened wider, and I wondered what she thought I meant.

"There's a great arcade, lots of people. A lot of people there like Dark Flag. You'll get good experience," I said.

She laughed and sat back. "Sure. Sounds great. I was thinking about heading back to school, anyway. I don't want to spend another night with my parents."

"Do you need to call them?" I asked.

Quinn shrugged. "They didn't notice I was gone in the first place. I'll wait for them to call me."

We headed towards the Vegas Strip, the lights growing brighter. Neon suddenly towered up above us. Quinn smiled, her face raised to the multicolored lights.

"Do you like Vegas?" I asked. It was always a topic of discussion amongst people who had grown up in the area. Those that hated it moved away to places like Los Angeles.

"I do. When I was little, Vegas felt like something out of a fairy tale. Like you could drink a magic potion and everything would be like in Wonderland," Quinn said.

"And now?"

"It’s a good place to disappear for a while. There are so many tourists here that it is easy to pretend to be someone else."

I drove towards the Excalibur Casino. In the basement was a huge and silly arcade. Somehow, looking at Quinn's face under the neon lights, going to an arcade did not feel right.

"I know a good bar near here. More locals than tourists, but still a fun place to be someone else for a while," I said.

Quinn smiled and I parked in a ramp. We walked the long block to the bar. It was a small dive bar wedged between a large casino and a cowboy-themed restaurant. We paused for a moment to marvel at the amount of tourists that had either packed or worn their cowboy boots on the airplane.

"He even has spurs. Do they allow those in the casinos?" Quinn asked.

"Luckily, they look about as dull as he is," I said.

We headed inside the bar and found a high-backed booth near the back. It sat across the back wall so we both had an excellent view of the door.

"I'm going to bet she is from North Dakota," Quinn nodded towards a particularly pale tourist who was shivering in a tank top.

"Too bad no one told her it gets cold in the desert at night," I said.

"This place is bigger than I thought," Quinn observed.

I enjoyed watching her look around the familiar bar. It had one long, scarred wooden bar, the line of booths we sat in, two pool tables, a darts corner, and a small sunken dance floor that remained packed at all times. The windows had steamed up from the dancers already in motion.

"I found this place a few years back," I said. "And you didn't think I went out."

Quinn smiled. "Let me guess, you came here to dance."

"Not exactly my thing. Do you like to dance?" I asked. I could imagine her moving easily among the gyrating people. The image was very tempting.

"Yeah. Trent and I love, I mean, we loved to dance," Quinn said. Her eyes drifted back to the small dance floor and I saw them go wide again. "Oh my God. Speak of the devil."

I signaled the waiter to bring us two shots and two beers. Quinn looked like she definitely needed another drink. Then, I turned to look in the direction she was staring. I caught sight of a tall, lanky man with dyed white hair. He stuck out in the crowd, not only for his hair, but for his wild moves. Trent was drawing as much attention to himself as possible.