𝐰𝐞 𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐨 𝐝𝐮𝐦𝐛 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐭
🥂🥂🥂
When she gets the call from her "brother", Kirsten practically jumps for joy at the opportunity to go to Vegas with her best friends for his bachelor party. She lives for a party, especially when it's...
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TW: Offensive language, somewhat self-harm and offensive humour.
[The Other Side - Jason Derulo] 1:40 ─〇───── 2:13 ⇄ ◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹ ↻
"It says here we should work in teams." Alan reads from a gambling handbook in the front of the car. "Who wants to be my spotter? Kirsten? You could help me, dress nice."
"I'll pass." I decline, leaning into Phil's arms.
"I don't think you should be doing too much gambling tonight, Alan." Doug shakes his head as he drives.
"Gambling?" Alan questions. "Who said anything about gambling? It's not gambling when you know you're gonna win. Counting cards is a foolproof system."
"It's also illegal," Stu speaks from the back of the car, where he sits next to me.
"It's not illegal, it's frowned upon, like masturbating on an aeroplane."
"Jesus fuck," I mutter.
"I'm pretty sure that's illegal too." Phil talks from the other side of me.
"Yeah, maybe after 9/11, where everybody got so sensitive." Alan scoffs. "Thanks a lot, Bin Laden."
"Is this guy serious?" I whisper, where Phil and Stu shrug their shoulders. "Uh, Alan?" He turns to face me. "Do you know what 9/11 is?"
"Yeah, the thing with the planes." He smiles. "They flew right through that building."
"Yeah," I'm creeped out by his smirk. "The planes, yeah." I lean back in my chair.
"Either way," Doug takes some of the heat off of me. "You gotta' be super smart to count cards, buddy, okay?"
"Oh, really?" Alan scoffs. "Well, maybe we should tell that to Rain Man because he practically bankrupted a casino, and he was a retard."
"What?" We all ask simultaneously.
"He was a retard." He repeats. "Retard."
We try to block Alan out for the rest of the journey, where the night very quickly approaches. The entire time, I share my bag of pretzels with Phil, who keeps his arm around my shoulder. We occasionally join in on the conversations with the others, but most of our time is spent in our own conversations. It's nice to know that we can talk this relaxed even after all these years of friendship.
We eventually make it to Vegas, the bright lights of the hotel seen from afar. Doug parks the car outside, letting the valet people take care of it. We grab our bags, walking into the huge front room of reception, all of us looking around in awe as we walk.
"Hi, welcome to Caesars." The lady at the front desk speaks. "Checking in?"
"Yeah. We have a reservation under Dr. Price." Stu leans against the counter.
