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I looked at myself in the bathroom mirror once more after wiping my newly washed face as I brushed through my hair with my fingers. I scowled when I noticed a small red mark forming on my chin, proving that a nasty zit was about to make its way. I flicked at it with my finger and cursed it before I turned on my heel to exit.

After a short drive from the art gallery, Mitchell and I checked into the hotel. It was once again a hotel owned by Mitchell's dad and we were staying in the presidential suite. I was in awe when I looked at the suite, it was massive, elegant, and defined luxury. This suite had three bedrooms, an open plan living room with a dining room, a fully equipped bar, four bathrooms, a kitchenette, and the best part was the three large windows which spread out from the living room to the bar and had a view of the entire city; it was beautiful.

I walked out of my bedroom and down the long staircase, I walked pass the kitchenette and when I reached the living room I looked at Mitchell sitting on one of the couches, he had his one leg up on his opposite thigh, his one hand held a glass of whiskey on the armrest of the couch and the other hand had a lit cigarette in it.

I didn't take note of the cigarette but then I looked again and watched him take a puff as he mindlessly looked out the window. I had no idea Mitchell smoked, in my time with him I never saw even a pack of cigarettes on him, let alone smell that awful tobacco scent.

My eyes widened when I walked closer and he was too lost in his thoughts -looking out at the night sky and the view of the lit-up city below, to notice me.

"You smoke?!" I exclaimed.

Mitchell was startled, he pulled the cigarette out of his mouth immediately and after puffing out the smoke, he said to me with a scowl, "What is wrong with you woman?"

I went to sit on the seat next to his, tucking my one leg under the other I answered, "Many things but the point is, since when do you smoke?"

He gave me a look, "Why are you making a big deal about this?"

"Uh, because I had no idea a big mamma's boy like you smoked," I answered.

A thought then occurred to me, I looked at him with scrutiny. "Wait a minute, does your mother even know that you smoke?"

"Hell no," He answered, "And neither will she ever, she's a health freak so she'll kill me if she finds out."

I looked at him with a grin and when he looked at me, I raised my brows at him twice.

"What?" He asked.

I shifted closer and bumped his shoulder with mine, "Look at you being a rebel."

He sighed before taking a sip of his drink, "Mila, don't you have something better to do rather than annoy me?"

The smell of his lit cigarette welcomed me, and I could feel my chest tighten a little, it was a long time since I was around one.

Ignoring what he just said I, instead asked, "So since when have you been smoking?"

He shrugged as he took another puff. He exhaled and even though I was a medical student and knew how injurious to the health cigarettes were, I couldn't hide the college girl in me and think that he looked pretty damn hot when he exhaled smoke like that.

"I don't know, since I was nineteen, I think." He answered.

"What made you start and why is this the first time I'm seeing you smoking?" I asked.

He looked at me in dismay. "Why are you being so damn nosey?"

He was one to talk. "I guess you're rubbing off on me." I smugly answered.

He took another sip of his drink before he answered, "I just wanted to try it and I suppose I liked it, but I don't smoke too often – only once in a while, mostly when I'm stressed out and that is why you haven't seen me smoke until today."

"Which I'll add," He added as he dusted off some ash on an ashtray I didn't notice was beside him on the armrest, "You shouldn't have seen in the first place, but I didn't expect you to be so quick in the bathroom."

I looked at him and he did look a little tense, similar to the way he looked back in Chicago only this time he looked more sad than angry. I wondered what made him feel that way, I doubt it was me, sure I might've risen the guys' blood pressure a good few times but not to the extent for him to turn to the bottle and tobacco.

"What's stressing you out so much?" I asked him softly.

"Walk back up there, look in a mirror and you'll have your answer." He replied.

I rolled my eyes. "I highly doubt I can drive you or any man down the narcotic path."

"You'd be surprised." He murmured before he brought the glass to his lips again and sipped the golden liquid in it.

"For the record, cigarettes and alcohol aren't narcotics because they're legal." He added.

He took another puff and exhaled; I couldn't help but be drawn into that.

I growled at him under my breath, "It's so damn sexy when you talk lawyer and puff out that smoke. The bad boy who abides by the law – what an oxymoron."

I shifted closer to him, rested my hand on his shoulder, in response he looked at me with a questioning look.

"Can I have a puff?" I asked him.

"No." He answered flatly.

"Why not?" I drawled.

"Because I said so, that's why." He replied.

"It wouldn't be the first time I smoked." I stated matter of factly.

He raised a brow. "Oh yeah? I doubt Adonis Jadyn smokes, he looks too polished to do that."

I shook my head. "It wasn't Jadyn."

He looked amused. "Limo Leo?"

I nodded. "Yep, Leo gave me my first puff when I was sixteen."

"And don't call him Limo Leo, it's just Leo." I added.

"So, Limo Leo was a couple of firsts of yours," Mitchell mused, "What happened to him?"

I pursed my lips and calculated my answer for a moment. I grew up around Leo, I spent almost every summer with him right up until senior year. We were close, he was the person I could just be a kid around, I mean I didn't have to be the responsible adult around him as I did when I was home; with him I could be just Mila.

After hooking up with him on Prom, things weren't as weird, because we still spent that summer together as usual, only we hooked up a few times and it was great. But after that we just sort of drifted away, he pulled away more than I did, and I never really knew why. He was about two years older than me and always a little rough around the edges, he wasn't a bad influence but he lived life freely and was never afraid of trying anything, I think that's why I hung out with him so much; with him, I could be carefree even if it was just for a little while.

Life got in the way thereafter and I moved away to college, I barely visited my grandparents during the summer, they instead came up to stay with my mom and I. Leo never made an effort to call and neither did it. I guess sometimes people just drifted apart with no logical explanation or hard feelings.

I looked up at Mitchell's expecting eyes, I didn't want to tell him everything, so I kept it simple when I answered, "Life happened, we just sort of drifted apart. I went away to college and I guess he just got busier."

Mitchell remained quiet for a long moment, he seemed to be searching my eyes before he spoke, "Were you in love with him?"

'Why would he ask such a preposterous question?'

"Ew," I wrinkled my nose, "You know I don't believe in all that."

"Or so you think, maybe you loved him, and you were afraid of your feelings, so you ran away." Mitchell said.

"Oh boy, someone watches way too many rom-coms." I retorted.

He took another puff of his cigarette and after exhaling he said, "See what I mean, you brush everything off with a joke."

I took in a breath. "No, it's just my way of saying I don't want to talk about it anymore."

He didn't say anything but brought the cigarette to his lips again. I watched him and by looking at his expression, I could tell that he was feeling a little down.

"What's gotten you so sullen?" I asked him.

"I told you, go look in the mirror." He replied flatly.

"Yeah, I'm not buying that." I told him, "Does it have to do with the painting?"

I studied his body language and I could swear he tensed up a little. I knew that he didn't just casually come across it, it must've held some sort of significance.

He didn't answer my question but instead took a sip of his drink.

"How did you find it? I mean were you tracking it? Do you know the artist?" I pressed on the matter.

He turned and gave me a look, telling me he did not want to talk about it at all. But he was silly to do that, now it was confirmed that the painting meant something to him. I wondered what.

"So, you get to ask questions, but I don't?" I raised a brow at him.

He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose before he rather reluctantly answered, "I'm an art enthusiast, I found out about this painting, tracked it down and purchased it. Happy?"

I narrowed my eyes a fraction, I was no mind reader, but I could tell he wasn't telling the full truth. But I let it slide, I hated people prying into matters I didn't want to talk about, so I understood how he felt. Besides, we were going our separate ways in a matter of days so I didn't care.

I watched as he took another puff of his cigarette, so to lighten the mood I asked again, "So, now can I have a puff?"

He removed the cigarette from his lips and gave me a look, "are you so desperate to have my saliva in your mouth that you're insisting to take a puff?"

"Ugh, you wish." I scowled at him and shoved him by pushing his shoulders. I completely forgot that I was sitting quite close to him so while pushing him, the ash from the cigarette dropped and fell on the top of my palm.

I couldn't say it didn't sting because it was hot, out of instinct I hissed in pain, "Ah, shit."

Mitchell's focus immediately shifted to me; he turned the cigarette off by squishing it in the ashtray. He then grabbed my hand and looked at the skin that was now red, he rubbed his thumb over the spot before he looked up at me, "Are you okay?"

I looked up from my hand to his blue-grey gaze which was searching my face again for any sort of discomfort. Was Mitchell genuinely concerned?

I blinked twice and nodded, "Yeah, it's just a silly burn. I'll be fine."

"Are you sure?" He asked.

I wasn't used to someone reassuring me, hell it has been a long time since someone genuinely asked me if I was alright. It felt a little foreign for someone else to show concern for me and to be honest it was making me a little uncomfortable. I pulled my hand away and put a small distance between us.

"Yeah, relax. It's nothing." I mumbled.

He took a long moment of staring at my face before he nodded, "Alright, but run it under cold water so it doesn't blister up."

"Blister." I said the word as if it was poison.

He sighed. "Is that too formal for you?"

I shook my head, "No, just some words make me cringe like blister and... moist." I shuddered.

"You're weird." He commented.

I flashed him a grin. "I appreciate the compliment."

There was silence between us for a long while, Mitchell was sipping on his drink while I took mental notes of how I was going to convince him to do what I wanted to for fun tonight.

"Stop staring Mila, it's creepy." He said, slowly turning his gaze at me.

I looked at the now empty glass in his hand then back up to him with a sweet smile. "Do you want to have some fun, tonight?"

A small frown covered his forehead before he let out an exasperated sigh. "Mila, I think you made more than enough sexual innuendos for the day."

"Innuendos." I repeated the word.

He gave me a look, "Don't start with the crap."

I ignored his use of a formal tone and instead pressed on my idea of fun, "Look, I know you're horny for me but you and I both know it's never gonna happen, so I have an even better idea."

"I don't want to hear it." He mumbled as he stood up and walked to the bar.

If he thought I was going to listen, he had another thing coming. I stood up and followed him.

"We've been on this trip for five days now and I think it's time you loosened up a little." I told him as he poured himself another drink.

He poured the drink and before he could walk past me, he stopped and looked down at me and said, "Not happening."

When he walked back to the couch, I followed him and sat down again next to him.

"Oh come on Mitch, you didn't even hear my idea."

"Because knowing you, it's bound to be crazy." He retorted.

"Normal is boring and tedious, we all need a little crazy sometimes to keep sane." I told him.

"I've been with you for five days now," He looked at me, "I've had more than enough of my share of crazy and from experience I can conclude, it's done the total opposite of keeping me sane."

"Oh come on, stop kidding." I whined.

"You think that was a joke?" He asked.

I ignored that and sighed, "In my entire teenage/adult life, I have never gone bar hopping and now that I'm about to exit being twenty-one, I want to experience it once. I looked online and apparently, Denver has some amazing bars."

"Whoa, hold up," He put up a finger, "Did you just say bar hopping?"

I nodded eagerly, "Say yes please."

"No, hell no!" He exclaimed.

"Why?" I drawled.

He raised a brow at me, "Are you seriously asking me why?"

I looked at him and I knew what he meant, he saw me drunk once and I most likely traumatized him, but this was different, this time I wouldn't drink beer.

"Yes, I am asking you why." I answered.

He remained quiet for a moment before he shook his head, "No, Mila, I refuse to deal with a drunk you – I can barely even deal with sober you."

"I actually go really quiet when I'm drunk." I lied.

He pointed a finger at me, "Do not lie to me, I cannot stand lies." He said in a more serious tone than I anticipated.

I wondered where that came from, he was taking it way too seriously than he needed to.

I think he realized he might've overreacted because he changed the subject, "Look Mila, we need to reach Vegas tomorrow and it's a long drive from here, so I need my rest."

"Tomorrow?" I frowned, "I thought we were supposed to reach the day after tomorrow."

"I know you want to spend as much time as possible with me but," He paused and grabbed his phone off the coffee table in front of us, he unlocked it and scrolled before he showed me a picture on the screen, "We need to reach tomorrow because Owen and Faith are already there."

I looked at the picture posted on Owen's social media page. it was of him and Faith in Vegas. Faith looked to be laughing in the picture and Owen was pressing a kiss on the side of her head with a grin on his face.

"When was this posted?" I asked.

"An hour or so ago." He answered, "I thought we'd catch up with them on this trip at some point, but Owen was smart, he used a completely different route and drove faster than me."

I looked at the picture and a small smile tugged on my lips, "They look happy."

He pulled the phone away and locked it. "Yeah they do but it doesn't mean they need to rush into marriage, so we need to stop them ASAP."

He was right, the whole purpose of this trip was for Owen and Faith and if they were already in Vegas, it meant they could get married at any moment. But Faith said in the letter, that they were to get married on the weekend so as it was only Thursday, I was sure they would spend a little time in Vegas and get married on Saturday.

"Okay," I sighed sadly, "I guess I won't be able to spend my last night being twenty-one the way I wanted to. It's alright, I guess."

"Do not be dramatic..." He trailed off and looked at me more sincerely, "Last night being twenty-one...is tomorrow your birthday?"

I realized I let it slip that in just under twenty-four hours, I was turning twenty-two. I never made a big deal of my birthday, it was just another day to me – only I turned a year older on that day but by the way Mitchell was looking at me, it seemed as if birthdays were a big deal to him.

"Yeah, but it's no biggie." I brushed off the birthday topic.

He took in a breath, closed his eyes for a long moment, and exhaled.

"Five bars, nothing more and you need to promise me the moment you've reached your limit, you will leave." He said.

I smiled widely at him and if I wasn't Mila, I would've hugged him. "I promise."

He downed his drink in his hand and looked at me, "Let's go get wasted."

**

Before we left Mitchell ordered a variety of foods for us to eat, he insisted that we line our stomachs so that neither of us would get sick after consuming a lot of alcohol. I wondered if he was concerned about both of us or just me, I figured it was the latter.

He then organized for a hotel cab to take us everywhere because there was no way he would be able to drive around if we planned to get drunk. While in the back of the cab, Mitchell was selecting bars which were in close range.

I looked over this shoulder as he scrolled through his phone, looking at different bars and pubs. One caught my sight; it was a rooftop one and it wasn't even far from where we were staying.

"You have to choose that one." I insisted.

"No." He flat out refused.

"Why?" I asked, "It's a rooftop bar, there isn't a reason to not go to it."

He gave me a look before he said, "I have one very important reason, a drunk Mila falling off the roof and dying."

"So," I began with a drawl, "Wouldn't that make you happy?"

He thought it over before he answered, "Yeah but you're on my watch, I wouldn't want your parents to accuse me of murder. Besides I'm too pretty to wear an orange jumpsuit."

I rolled my eyes at how cocky he was, but I guess I felt the same way. I mean orange wasn't even my colour.

"Yeah, that's also the only reason I haven't killed you as yet." I remarked.

"But I am sure the bar has the proper security measures so drunk people don't fall off the roof and kill themselves." I added, "And we can go there first."

Mitchell sighed and the look he gave me made me smile because I knew I won this argument, we were going to the rooftop bar.

It wasn't long before we reached the rooftop bar and I was glad Mitchell agreed because the bar was stunning. It was on a rooftop, the colour scheme was a mixture of blue and grey hues, there was a glass balustrade around the area and couches scattered around with mini fireplaces in the middle here and there, the bar was in the middle of the area with a good few servers, and there was also a little stage right up front with a live band. The highlight was the open sky and tall buildings beneath and since it was dark, we were drinking under the stars.

The server got us a table with the perfect view, we were sitting right at the end. The night was cool, and the ambiance of the place already got my spirits high.

"Would you like to order?" The young waiter asked.

"I'll have a beer." Mitchell ordered.

I raised a questioning brow at him, I have never seen Mitchell drink beer before.

"I'm starting light." He answered my unasked question.

"Can I order a beer?" I