Waking up in Vegas Chapter One

I can't believe there is only three days until Waking up in Vegas is live! I've been obsessed with Wren and Brody for so long and I'm excited to share them with the book world. I wanted to give you a little sneak peak of the book, so I hope you enjoy the first chapter.



Chapter One

Wren


“Las. Fucking. Vegas?”
My sister Emma rolls her pale blue eyes. “For the millionth time, Wren, yes.”
Ah! “You’re all going to Vegas for Brody’s twenty-first?” My mouth is open like I’ve just watched Tom Hardy strip. I hope they don’t think they’re going without me.
Emma shares a look with Brody’s sister Felicity.
“Well, a week after his birthday, actually,” Emma says.
“Em, you cannot go without me.”
Felicity raises her dark eyebrow. “It’s not me and Emma you have to convince; it’s your parents. And Brody.”
“I’m eighteen.”
Emma points at me. “Just! And in America you can’t drink or gamble until you’re twenty-one.”
“That’s a dumb rule.”
“Law,” Emma corrects.
“Whatever. I’m still going. I’m sure Vegas has more than bars and casinos. In fact, I know it does. Dad won’t have an issue with me going as long as you and Luke promise to look out for me.” I give her a pleading, toothy smile.
My big brother Luke is more overprotective than my dad.
Emma deadpans. “Yes, because Luke and I want to babysit our little sister while on holiday.”
I dramatically throw my hands up. Can she not see how important it is that I go too? “Come on, Em. You don’t actually have to do anything. I can look after myself… we’ll just tell Mum and Dad that you and Luke are.”
Felicity laughs. “Your parents will be fine. However, can I be there when you ask Brody?”
Okay, so Brody Harris—eldest friend of my brother, painfully beautiful, and a total arsehole—isn’t my biggest fan. We either ignore each other or we clash… because he is an arsehole, while I am not. I’m sure I can convince him though. Vegas is massive. We don’t have to hang out together.
“I can handle Brody,” I tell them, sitting taller and feigning confidence. “Will you two please have my back?”
“You know we will,” Felicity says. “Mason and Luke won’t mind, so that’s four of us wanting you to come.”
I might be four years younger than Emma and Felicity, but we’ve always been close, as have our families. I even get along with Felicity and Brody’s older brother Mason. The six of us have been chucked together since we were babies and raised kind of like cousins. It shows. Well, not so much with Brody and me.
Emma lies back against her sun lounger and shakes her head as she smiles. “You can come, Little Wren.”
“If you could lay off the Little Wren thing when we’re talking to them, that would be great. Dad and Luke still think I’m about five.”
“Your dad and brother will always think that. Dad, Mason, and Brody are constantly interfering in my life. Or helping, as they call it.” Felicity drops her sunglasses back over her leafy-green eyes.
We’re all at Felicity’s parents’ house because it’s summer, and they have a pool. With everyone busy and most of us—not me—now moved out of home, we don’t get to spend as much time together. Today, though, we’re all here for swimming and a barbecue.
All the parents are inside because they’re not swimming. Brody, Mason, and Luke are sitting around the patio table, drinking beer from the bottle.
Okay, game plan, Wren. “I need to get Brody on side first, don’t I?”
Emma rolls her head to face me. “We’re going for his birthday, so yes.”
“Definitely go talk to him now while you’re in a bikini,” Felicity says, picking up her mimosa.
I put mine down. She’s probably expecting me to refuse to use my body like that with Brody, and usually, I would. But Vegas.
I pat the small triangles of my red bikini top. “Wish me luck.”
They sit up, the sun loungers clicking into the new upright position as they go for a better look.
Great.
I get up and walk over to them, looking much more confident than I feel. My blood-red bikini is my favourite and the one to convince Brody. For now, I’ll pretend that he doesn’t mildly dislike me.
When I stop by the table, three pairs of eyes ping to me. Luke, being my brother, is the only one who looks at my face.
Top job, bikini.
I smile. “Brody—”
“No,” he replies, his midnight-blue eyes finally rising to mine.
See, he’s an arsehole. How can someone who looks so perfect—defined cheekbones, strong jaw, thick and masculine lips, deep eyes you could drown in, and inky-black hair—be such a massive bellend?
“You don’t even know what I was about to say.”
“Yes, I do.”
I shrug. “I guess you don’t like blow jobs then. That’s cool.”
“Fucking hell, Wren!” Luke spits, turning his nose up.
Mason chuckles.
Brody’s face is straight, unaffected. “What makes you think I would fall for that?”
“Ugh! Please? I really want to come.”
Mason laughs again, but we all ignore him.
“Wren, you’re eighteen,” Brody says.
I point. “Exactly. I’m an adult.”
“Come on, man,” Luke says.
I knew my big bro would be on my side.
Brody drags his eyes from me to Luke, and then back again. He lingers for a second and groans. “Wren …”
“I want to celebrate your birthday, too.”
He lifts a brow. “I’ll buy a cake, and you can sing to me.”
“You’re being impossible.”
He takes a long swig of his beer. “If you can’t get into bars and casinos, what are you going to do?”
“There’s plenty to do! They have arcades, bowling, swimming pools, cinemas, shows, and shopping.”
“He’s making you sweat, Wren. We all know he’s going to say yes,” Mason teases.
“Why are you getting involved?” Brody barks at his brother.
Mason smirks.
“Brody?” I purr.
“No.”
I throw my hands up. “Please!”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“It’s my birthday.”
“I’m aware.”
His blue eyes darken. “Go back and sunbathe, Wren.”
“Oh my God, budge.”
“No.”
“Please!”
“Fine!” he snaps. “All right. You can come.”
I clap. “Yay. I knew you would come around.”
Brody’s scowl transforms into a smirk. “You were always coming, but that was fun.”
The bastard. “You fucking what now?”
Mason and Luke laugh, and I want to wrap my hands around Brody’s neck and squeeze him like a stress ball.
He leans back in his seat. “You would have done the same to me.”
“No, I wouldn’t. You’re a dickhead, and you’re going to Hell.”
“She’s not wrong, man,” Luke says.
I pick up Brody’s beer as he puts it down and take a swig. He watches me like a hawk. I wait for his reaction. Although, now I don’t expect him to react because he knows that’s what I want. Every time I’m with Brody, it’s like we play one giant game of chess.
As I set it down, he says, “I backwashed it.”
“No, you didn’t. Thanks for the drink.”
His eyes narrow as I turn and walk back to Felicity and Emma.
Viva Las fucking Vegas, baby!