| Wattpad Editor's Choice | Jason Lovett, a no-nonsense guitar-player, is leaving New York to get to a career-making gig in LA. But before he gets far, his car breaks down. Being stranded without a car or money and running short on time to get to th...
"It is only in adventure that some people succeed in knowing themselves – in finding themselves." – Andre Gide
•••
"It's Nav-AH-duh!"
"No, it's Ne-VA-da!"
"Nav-AH-duh!"
"It's Ne-VA-da, Lovett!" Della screamed, exasperated. "Believe me, if you talk to someone from Nevada and you waltz in there and say 'Navahduh,' you're going to get kicked out of the nearest casino, fall on a cactus, and I'll just be standing there, laughing at you."
"Tomato, tomahto..." I rolled my eyes. "We mean the same thing—the state with Vegas. Give me a break."
"It's not the same, Lovett!" Della groaned, goofily beating her head on the passenger window as if she was fed up with my nonsense. "Just don't embarrass me when we get to Vegas, okay? We're slowly but surely nearing my people and I won't let you make a fool of yourself in front of me. Los Angeles is literally right next door."
I made a sour face. "As if I could embarrass you."
Della smirked and pulled her long hair up into a messy bun on top of her head. "Ever been to Vegas before?"
"Nope," I shrugged. "Barely been out of New York and Jersey."
"You're in for a treat," she grinned widely. "We'll be driving through at dusk."
"Why does that matter?" I questioned, passing a car that was driving way too slow.
"You'll see," she said as she turned up the radio, "you'll love it."
As the radio played, Della bobbed her head along with another singer I'd never heard before. Seriously, I had no clue where she dug up some of this music...
I drifted into thought about what happened at the Canyon. Della had behaved strangely, but seemed very apologetic afterwards and kept trying to do and say little things as if she meant to make it up to me.
For instance, when she went into a gas station at 3 am this morning to grab food, she came back with an extra-large black coffee for me instead of my typical, normal-sized cup. And she brought me a breakfast sandwich because she knew I liked them. After I ate, she offered to drive again and let me get a little sleep.
It felt as though Della was trying to apologize without actually saying the words; without actually bringing up the situation. Part of me was glad that she did it this way because it spared me more embarrassment. But the other side of me was completely pissed that she was continuing to ignore everything and act like it wasn't happening.
Why all of the mixed signals? Why the secrecy? Why the denial? Was this something she could talk about in LA? Did I have a chance?
•••
The lights were absolutely dazzling. Everywhere you looked, neon lights, twinkle lights, Christmas lights, flashing lights... The city of Las Vegas literally glowed from top to bottom. Music blared in the streets, people clambered together in rowdy groups, and traffic was insanely backed up. But for once in my life, I didn't mind.
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