Viva Las Vegas

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I hated this – I hated feeling so much, it wasn't me and lately, I had been letting my guard down way too much. I was supposed to all be laid back and chilled, but as of late, an array of puny, pathetic emotions were running through me.

I was sulking when I left the chapel, I stood against Mitchell's car probably looking as sour as a lemon. I was angry, irritated, disappointed, and upset – I couldn't believe that Faith was serious about being tied down to someone, and that too at such a young age. I tried everything to show her the light, but she was blinded by the fool with blonde hair and blue eyes.

"Looks like they're about to be hitched in a few." Mitchell, who just exited the chapel said.

I didn't respond with words but sulked even more and crossed my arms across my chest, I had no words to describe how I felt. I knew it was Faith's life and she could live it as she saw fit, but marriage wasn't supposed to be on the cards for at least the next six years or so.

"Do you have to lean against the car like that?" Mitchell complained.

"Don't start with me." I mumbled and stood straight.

I looked at the chapel door and a sadness formed in the pit of my stomach. Maybe I was being selfish and only thinking of my relationship with Faith – I was so afraid of losing our friendship that I was adamant  she was ruining her life when in fact, maybe Owen was the one and she was making her life. Was I so blinded by my own selfish need to hold onto the few relationships I had, that I was willing to strip Faith of her happiness? Was I that shallow and self-centered?

No, I wasn't, I cared about Faith and I knew what her dreams and aspirations were, and it wasn't to settle down at twenty-three, before even graduating. I blamed myself, I dragged her to that party and now the love-sick fool was about to forget every dream she wanted to make a reality because of her so-called prince charming.

Pathetic.

"This is really bothering you, isn't it?" Mitchell, who appeared next to me asked as he rested against the car.

I couldn't believe he just told me to get away from the car when he goes and does the same thing.

"Don't give me that look," He caught onto my thoughts, "It's my car, I know how to handle her."

I was not in the mood to argue over Mitchell's car, I already argued over one couple, I didn't need another.

I sighed, "I don't get why they would rush into this?"

Mitchell shrugged, "Love."

I scoffed and rolled my eyes, "That word makes me sick to the stomach."

"That's you but for everyone else, love makes them happy, fulfilled, content – almost as if the missing piece of their lives is finally complete."

When Mitchell answered he didn't quite look at me, instead his gaze fell elsewhere. Not to anything particular but somewhere in his mind, he was in a daze and there was a ghostly smile playing on his lips. If I weren't mistaken, I'd think the fool had experienced the feeling before.

"Alright Romeo," I began, "If that was so, why the hell does so many people sing songs about finding someone like you... sometimes it lasts in love, sometimes it hurts instead?"

Mitchell took in a deep breath and after placing one hand in his pocket he said, "Love can completely make or utterly break you, and that's the beautiful tragedy about it."

'Deep and extremely poetic,' I mentally complimented him.

"The latter being more common than the former." I said.

"As it is famously said, it is better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all." Mitchell mused.

"Bullshit." I scoffed under my breath.

Mitchell remained quiet for a moment and I could feel his eyes burning a hole in my head, so I looked his way and gave him a questioning look.

"Stop staring at me!" I snapped irritably at him, "Or I'll start thinking you've fallen for me."

I shuddered at that thought.

Mitchell ignored my remark and antics and carried on speaking to me in the same, serious, almost forlorn tone.

"Why do you breathe, Mila?"

"Because you didn't strangle me in my sleep this week." I replied casually.

He gave me a displeased look and that told me he was being serious. So, after sighing, I decided to answer with the most obvious response to his stupid question.

"Because breathing is the chemical and mechanical process executed to bring oxygen to every cell in the body and to get rid of carbon dioxide. Living mammals need oxygen to obtain energy to fuel our living process." I answered.

"I was only looking for one word in that seminar," Mitchell said, "Living. We breathe to live, right?"

I nodded, "That's what I just said – we breathe to live."

"And we live to love." Mitchell simply said.

I looked at him incredulously, I had no idea where all of this was coming from, but it made me wonder what made him think that way.

"Life has no meaning without love, what is the point of living if you don't have someone you love - be it a friend, your family or a lover, they make life more beautiful. Why would someone get up every day, get a career, and do something if they didn't have anyone to share it with?"

"For themselves." I answered, "You can love yourself and live each day to simply please yourself."

Mitchell pursed his lips and remained quiet for a long moment before he asked, "You love your mom and your grandparents, right?"

"That's not even a question." I answered without hesitance, those people were my life and I never shied away from admitting it.

"So, what would be the point of everything if you didn't have them? Would every achievement of yours to date matter as much without them?" Mitchell asked.

I opened my mouth to retort with some smartass answer but closed it immediately when I recalled why I chose medicine as my career and why I was an overachiever at school. I remembered the very reason I set goals and worked my butt off to get into Harvard. All those reasons led to one purpose and that was my small family – whatever I was and wanted to become was for them and nothing else.

I gazed at Mitchell and he didn't look smug, but he had a knowing look on his face. Love wasn't always in the romantic sense; love was a synonym for humanity. He was right, and I was wrong – I hated to admit but Mitchell held a valid point.

"No." I softly answered his question.

He blinked and softly said, "I rest my case."

I deeply sighed and went to stand beside Mitchell, once again leaning against his beloved car. This time, he surprisingly didn't object.

"There's no stopping them, is there?" I asked under my breath.

Mitchell looked down at me and shook his head in response.

"They have their whole lives for this, there was no need to rush." I murmured.

"True." Mitchell agreed, "But maybe this was written out in their destiny or kismet."

I raised a brow at him, "You believe in all that."

He shrugged, "I'm indifferent about it but it's comforting to believe that somewhere there is someone destined to be yours."

I looked up into his eyes and they looked sincere and hopeful, even. I searched his features to look for any clue of a double meaning but all I got were his bright eyes.

"I've never seen Owen this way you know." He mused, "He has never used the word love before. I believe Faith is the one."

A small frown covered my forehead, "Does that even exist? The one."

"I think so." He said with conviction, "You can love many people in this world, you can go through many relationships and have the best of times with people but there will only be one person who will just... fit."

I didn't know what to say so I just kept my mouth shut and looked at him while he spoke.

"Someone who can make you equally happy and miserable, someone who will understand you better than anyone, someone who you will always find you – no matter the time or distance. A person whom you love for no apparent reason but because they just feel as if they're a missing part of you."

He looked at me, "You only get one true love in this lifetime and if you can hold onto it, you're one lucky hijo de puta."

Hearing him curse out in Spanish instead of English made me smile and then laugh, it wasn't even that funny, but I found myself giggling.

Mitchell grinned while I slowed down my laughter. We stood, side by side for a moment, the sun was turning orange and the sky was transforming from a bright blue to deep gold. The air was warm but refreshing and for the first time since I left the chapel, I was at a peace with Faith's decision.

I exhaled, "I guess I might've been selfish, but I understand why they're doing it."

"Me too," Mitchell agreed, "But I still don't support them. They should've waited before running to the alter."

"Agreed." I stated.

"I hate failing." I mumbled more to myself.

Mitchell chucked under his breath, "That's because you're too damn competitive."

I playfully bumped my shoulders against him, "Shut up."

"I guess this trip was a waste of time and of ruining your mental state." I told him.

Mitchell looked offended, "I mean, I agree with the mental state part, but do you really think it was a waste of time?"

I gestured to the chapel door with my eyes before looking back at him, "Faith and Owen are in there right now, saying I do."

"I mean yeah we failed in stopping their marriage but on the way to our destination, we might've picked something up." He muttered.

I was confused, he was talking in riddles and I never liked those ruddy things.

"You need to speak English to me or even Spanish because I don't do reading between the lines." I said.

"Well," He started, "We learned that we can be in the same room without murdering each other, we learned that other than fighting we can also laugh and have fun together. We also discovered that we might be a lot alike then we choose to believe."

I scrunched my face and groaned, "No Mitchell, I can't take any more bad news today."

"Oh, come on," Mitchell said, and the humor was evident in his voice, "You have to admit that if we want, we can get along."

I covered my ears and shook my head which resulted in Mitchell's laughter.

"In fact," He began, and I could see the mischief and laughter spark in his eyes, "We might even have become frie-

"No!" I exclaimed and after removing my hands from my ears I pointed at him, "Don't you dare complete that."

He was grinning like an annoying Cheshire cat when to taunt me he spelled out the word slowly, "F, R, I, E..."

I covered his mouth with my hand and made gag notions with my face. "You disgust me!"

I could feel his breath against my palm when he laughed – he was enjoying this way too much.

Then much to my horror, I felt his wet, warm tongue on the inside of my palm. I scrunched my face and immediately pulled my hand away.

"Ew!" I exclaimed.

He still had humor in his gaze, but my disgusted expression might've stopped him from pursuing the topic.

"Come on," He gestured with his head, "Let's get out of here."

I nodded, "Yeah, I need amputate my hand and then get to the airport and catch the next flight out to New York."

Mitchell walked around to the drive's side and I opened the passenger side before I got in. He got in a few seconds after me, he adjusted his rear-view mirror and put on his seatbelt before he started the engine.

Once we were back on the road, Mitchell broke the silence between us.

"How urgent is it for you to get home?" He asked. I recalled him asking the exact thing before we left Boston with destination Vegas on the cards.

"The last time you asked me that, I got stuck with you for six whole days." I answered.

"I'm serious Mila," Mitchell said, "Is it urgent you return home tonight?"

I didn't answer straight away, I knew I needed to be home, but it also wasn't urgent. I missed my mom and I wanted to see her desperately, but I also knew she could manage without me for a day.

"No, it isn't." I answered.

Mitchell averted his gaze from the road and glanced at me with a grin, "Great because we're spending the night in Vegas."

**

At first, I thought Mitchell was kidding but I knew how serious he was when we drove down Las Vegas Boulevard. My eyes were in wonder as for the first time I was up close with the many tall, lit up buildings. There were numerous hotels and casinos present on one long road, all lit up in bright colors giving off the true Las Vegas vibe.

We drove past the famous Bellagio falls, since night was approaching the building was dancing in beautiful hues of golden lights and the orange twilight sun. The silver falls sprung high into the air like shooting stars.

I wanted to stop by and take pictures and just as I was about to voice it, Mitchell answered my unasked question.

"Later, let night properly befall." He said.

"Befall." I repeated in a posh accent.

Mitchell didn't respond but carried on driving until we reached a tall, mirror cladding building. It looked to have about thirty floors or even more, I wasn't too sure. We stopped outside the entrance of the elite looking hotel.

Once the car stopped in front of the grand doors, a man dressed in navy blue uniform came running to the car. Mitchell grabbed his phone from the surface of the center console, ran a hand through his hair, and glanced at me.

"Let's go." He said.

I got out and was in awe of the hotel already, it was by far the grandest hotel I had stayed at throughout the trip. We stood in the porte-cochere part of the hotel and it was indeed splendid, it was circular, a large chandelier with golden light tones hung above on what seemed to be a hand-painted ceiling.

"You own this place?" I asked Mitchell when I walked around the car to where he just briefly shared a few words with the valet.

"No," He answered, "My father does."

Together we walked through one of the four, large glass doors. We were greeted by a doorman before entering an even more stunning looking lobby.

It was like walking through a palace, there were high white ceilings supported by strong white poles that appeared to be made of marble – all enhanced with beautiful golden lights. In the middle was a golden, cylinder sculpture that appeared to be well over ten feet tall. Looking up at the sculpture I noticed the hand painting ceilings decorated with a bright, crystal chandelier. The entire feel of the hotel was classic meeting modern contemporary and it was exquisite.

My feet followed Mitchell, but my eyes were on my surroundings, the rounded, white couches sat on the brown, gold, and white contrasted marble floors. Right beside those couches was a table with a large tray of crackers and a variety of cheeses, next to it was a fruit bowl and the best part was a crystal flask of red wine.

The hotel had many people of different races and nationalities, tourists dressed in shorts and t-shirts with camera's in their hands, some people dressed in formals, and other casual like I was dressed.

My staring was put to a stop when I bumped into something or rather someone.

"Oomph." I said under my breath.

I was immediately welcomed with Mitchell's unique cologne scent and my eyes were face to face with the back of his white t-shirt. I took a step backward and he turned around to look at me with exasperation.

He sent me a warning stare and went back talking to the young, brunette woman standing at the front desk.

I went to stand next to him to see the attractive woman smile sweetly at Mitchell while she typed something on her computer.

In no time she presented Mitchell with a cardholder and said, "I hope you will enjoy your stay with us, Mr. Clarke," She glanced at me and with her smile not waning, "I trust you and the lady will not hesitate to call should you need anything."

Mitchell took the key and replied to her, devoid of any emotion in his voice, "Thank you. Have my luggage sent up to the suite."

"Certainly." She pleasantly smiled before Mitchell gestured for me to follow him.

"Oh, so you don't want to hold my hand in front of a pretty lady." I feigned offense as we made our way to the elevator.

"Do you have any idea the kind of accusations can be thrown at me if that one sentence of yours is misinterpreted?" Mitchell retorted.

He had a point, if he had to flirt or behave in any inappropriate way with the staff, it would land him in one big legal mess which could jeopardize his future in law school. But then again, I was just kidding and in classic Mitchell fashion, he took it too seriously.

Mitchell offered his hand and I gave him a quizzical look in response.

"You thought I was serious?" I asked.

"I think we both know by now how much you enjoy touching me, so go ahead, hold my hand." He casually replied.

"Are you sure you're talking about me and not yourself?" I retorted.

Mitchell dropped his hand and rolled his eyes. We walked in silence until we reached the elevator, Mitchell pressed for the top floor and in no time, we were going up.

Just when I thought the hotel couldn't get any fancier, I was corrected when the elevator door opened to the hallways of the thirtieth floor, the passage was wide and bright. Again, the floors were white marble, with a crème colored rug running down the middle but the best part was the walls. They were sea blue colored, coated in thick glass, and had water running down like rain. It was so beautiful; it almost gave one an under the ocean kind of feel.

"Is this the best hotel your father owns?" I asked Mitchell as we walked to our suite.

"One of them," He answered, "But I personally think the best is in Paris."

I was impressed, it seemed their group of hotels went international as well. No wonder Mitchell was so arrogant, he was loaded – even more so than I initially thought.

We stopped in front of a mirror finished, double door at the end of the long passageway. Mitchell pulled out the key-card and opened the door. He moved aside giving me way to enter and he followed.

The suite was nothing compared to any of the others we stayed at, it was the definition of luxury. It resembled a penthouse more than a suite. The décor was very modern contemporary sparkling white marble floors, white walls, and high double volume ceilings.

As soon I entered there was a small entrance hall and then to the right was an open plan kitchen with the living room area. The living room was exquisite with the perfect view of the city below.

On one end of the area was a dining room and the other was an L shaped bar that seated about six people. Then there was a grand staircase, with golden railings and a large waterfall beside it, much like the ones in the hallways, only this was a lot more intricate.

As I walked further into the living room, I noticed a white piano present and a billiard table. I walked up to the table and a small smile played on my lips as a memory of me playing pool with Leo when I used to visit my grandparents in my teen years flashed in my mind. I recalled how I always beat him and then we would fight because both of us had unhealthy competitive natures.

"You play?" My reverie was broken by Mitchell's voice.

I nodded, "Yeah and I always win."

Mitchell looked at me with amusement

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