I never thought I was capable of falling in love. This is the story of how I was proven completely wrong.

2012

I had waited for months and months for this day to come and it was finally here. I was leaving Dallas to meet my two best friends for the very first time face-to-face on an all-girls trip in Las Vegas. My sisters, Amanda and Blake, had dropped me off at the airport. I walked into a bathroom after I checked in and looked myself over.

'God, I look a hot mess.' I thought to myself, pulling my long dirty blonde hair up into a bun.

I turned side to side, examining myself. Though I had lost a considerable amount of weight, I was still super uncomfortable with my body. The only thing I liked about me was my hair and I didn't treat it like I liked it very much. There was just too much weight stacked on my 5'5'' frame for my liking, still. I was never going to get a boyfriend looking like this.

'Good thing you're incapable of falling in love again.' I thought.

I rubbed my eyes under my glasses and straightened my shirt out before making my way to the line for security. To my surprise, it wasn't nearly as long as I had expected it to be. I pulled out my phone to compose a quick message to my sisters before I went through.

'Going to security, love you guys.' I typed.

I hit send and put my phone back in my carry-on. It dinged four times. Someone was blowing me up. Both my sisters had replied and my two friends had sent me threatening messages.

'Your ass better be awake!' Brandi responded.

'And at the airport, or already on a plane.' Chelsea added.

'I'm in line to go through security now, so I'll see you in a couple hours.' I texted my long-distance best friends.

'I can't fucking wait until we get to Vegas. I need a break from life. Like, God damn. I just spent almost a year straight in school. I want to celebrate. Do something spontaneous or some shit. What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, unless you catch an STD…' Brandi replied.

I giggled and typed a quick reply.

"What's funny?" a voice said from behind me.

I jumped and turned around, ready to smart off at this stranger for sticking his nose in my business. I had to look up for what seemed like forever until I found his face. All I saw when I turned around was chest and my God, I wanted to touch it. That tight white tee and that leather jacket…

'Jesus, Mary, and Joseph…' When I finally found his face, he had this shit-eating grin on it and these beautiful blue eyes. His hair was curly, dirty blonde, and just barely sticking out under a beanie. He had his shoes in his hand, black boots.

I licked my lips and looked him over again. "Well sir, I don't really think that's any of your business, now is it?" I returned the shit-eating grin he had given me and turned around.

I wanted to text Brandi and Chelsea so bad and tell them what a beauty was standing behind me, but he fucking towered over me. He was nearly a foot taller than me. He'd surely see it. I looked over my shoulder at him and once again, there was that stupid grin.

'Fucker.' He smelled good too; like… Man. We made our way through the line and up the escalator to the terminals.

'GUYS. I JUST FELL IN LOVE.' I texted them furiously as I found a seat to wait for my flight.

I slipped my own boots back on and zipped them up.

Flop.

"Ahhh…so…Vegas, huh?" His voice was raspy.

I cut my eyes up at him. "Yep," I replied, shielding my phone from him.

The girls were blowing me up, now. God, I wanted to sneak a picture of him.

"Let me guess…girls' trip?" he asked.

I cut my eyes at him again.

"I knew it," he replied, stretching his long legs out in front of him, tucking his arms behind his head.

'Jesus H. Christ.' I thought to myself. I looked over at him. His eyes were closed, but he still had that god-damned shit eating grin on his face.

'I wish I could sneak a fucking picture but he's sitting RIGHT NEXT TO ME. He's fucking following me and asking me all these questions!' I typed to them.

"You telling your friends about the creep who's following you around the airport?" he asked, his eyes still closed.

"Are you always this creepy?" I asked him, not answering his question.

"Sometimes," he replied, cracking an eye and looking at me.

I glared at him, trying to appear annoyed. He smirked again and closed his eye.

"So. Vegas, huh?" I asked him, breaking the silence after a few moments. Chelsea and Brandi had boarded their own flights and couldn't talk anymore. I was all alone except for creep-boy. Man. Whatever.

"Yup," he replied. I nodded, like he could see me. His eyes were still closed.

"Girls trip…" I responded.

"I know. I can tell. You're not wearing a ring," he said.

"You're awful observant, creep-boy," I sighed.

"It's really simple. You just look for how people are traveling. In groups, with families... Like that group of guys in the corner? Bachelor party, obviously. The old lady two rows over on the end, she's going to blow all of her husband's life insurance money on slots, because, fuck it, why not?" He opened his eyes and sat up.

"And what about you?" I asked him.

"Going home," he stated.

"I didn't picture you as a Vegas kinda guy…" I told him, "but maybe I'm not as good at figuring people out as you are."

He laughed a little and looked at me. God, he was pretty.

"Where did you think I was from?" he asked.

"I don't know. Austin. Maybe Dallas," I said.

He shook his head. "Nah, not a Texas boy…I like it here, though. Work brings me here a couple times a year," he said.

I nodded.

Southwest Airlines flight 985 to Las Vegas, boarding now. Please have your boarding passes ready, the announcement came over the loudspeaker.

"Well, that's us," he said, standing.

"It is," I agreed, following him to the gate.

"How long are you staying?" he asked me. He was becoming more pleasant and comforting and less creepy the more we spoke.

"Just a few days. Three, I think," I replied.

He nodded, showing the ticket handler his boarding pass. I followed behind, doing the same. We made our way down the terminal together. I hated how these things shook when you walked down them. He almost had to duck his head so it wouldn't graze the top. He was every bit of 6 foot whatever he was. I could only imagine what was under that leather jacket and white tee. He had to be chiseled.

'He isn't even your type, Mich. Stop staring at him.' I told myself, 'Besides, there's no way he's single.'

A large hand waved in front of my face.

"Hey, you okay?"

I blinked furiously and shook my head. "Yeah, sorry. Flying makes me kind of nervous sometimes…I just…I spaced out," I replied.

"I do this all the time. If you need a distraction, just sit with me. You'll be in Vegas before you know it," Creep-Boy said in that raspy voice of his.

I nodded and followed quietly, stashing my bag in the overhead compartment, or at least trying to. I wasn't quite tall enough, so Creep-Boy took it and pushed it the rest of the way in for me.

"Window or aisle?" he asked me.

"Window," I replied, scooting into the row. I sat down and fastened my seatbelt, looking out the window at the other planes on the tarmac. He sat down next to me and fastened his own belt.

"Have you ever flown at all?" he asked me.

I nodded. "Texas to Florida, then back. Not my favorite thing to do, but it was cheaper and faster than driving," I replied.

He popped a piece of gum in his mouth and offered me some. I took it, knowing that if I didn't I wouldn't be able to hear anything once I landed.

"Thanks," I said.

He nodded. God, this was getting awkward. I was terrible at this.

"So what's your name?" he asked me.

"Michelle. But, my friends all call me Mich. Like, Mitch, but without the t," I told him.

He nodded again. "Yours?" I asked him.

"Jonathan…but my friends call me Jon," he replied.

"Jon," I repeated.

"Yup. Think it fits me?" he asked.

I laughed slightly. "Jon, yes. Jonathan? No, not really," I replied.

"See, that's what I always said, which is why I just go by Jon," he told me.

I smiled softly. He seemed like a really great guy. There was something mysterious about him, though. I wasn't certain if it was good or bad. He didn't make me uncomfortable; he made me nervous. I never got nervous around guys. I almost wanted our flight to be longer. I could listen to that raspy voice all night long.

"So where are you from? Originally?" he asked me.

"Alabama, but I live in Texas now. Texas is home," I told him.

He nodded. "I'm from Ohio, but Vegas is…well…home, I guess. I travel so much, I really don't know if I can call anywhere home," he said, shrugging.

"I understand," I said.

He smiled softly at me. It felt genuine. Real.

"You left home to make a better life, huh?" he asked.

I nodded. "Life in Alabama was hard…really hard. My mom and I…eh…not the best relationship. Dad either. He was never around. So when I was 19, I finally got enough and stood up for myself. I packed my shit and I left. I moved in with my grandma and took care of her and my grandfather until he passed away. Then my aunt and her kids moved in. My depression and anxiety were so out of control because I never had a moment of peace. I was forced to go to school for what they wanted. My hopes and dreams didn't matter. I was so unhappy. So when my best friend… Well, my sister really, moved to Texas, I moved in with her a few months after. And that's where I am, now," I explained.

"You're happy?" he asked.

"I am, I'm very happy. Even more so now that I get to meet my two long-distance best friends for the first time," I answered.

"Good," he said, "you deserve to be happy."

"Thanks, Jon," I said, " that's really sweet of you."

He shrugged and gave me that stupid shit-eating grin again.

"What can I say? I may be a Creep-Boy, but I'm a nice guy. At least, I try to be," he laughed.

"You do a good job."

We talked about his upbringing in Ohio. He'd lived a hard life, much like me. We had a lot in common. Dad was never around and our relationships with our mothers weren't the best in the world. He'd grown up most of his life in public housing, or without a home at all sometimes. He'd come out of it, though. He started working at sixteen and hadn't stopped yet. He was born in 1985, and I in 1988. Not a bad age gap, not bad at all. He seemed like, aside from his hectic work schedule, he was a pretty simple guy. If he had money, he didn't flaunt it. He wasn't my usual type, but there was something about him.

Ding.

Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Las Vegas. Please fasten your seat belts and prepare for landing.

Moments later, we were unloading at our gate in Vegas. Jon reached up above us and grabbed my carry-on.

I smiled softly at him. "Thanks," I told him.

"Not a problem. I'll see ya around," he gave me one last shit-eating grin and headed down to baggage claim. This airport was huge. I wondered if I'd ever find Chels and Brandi in here.

"MICH!" I heard two voices yell from behind me.

I turned around and waved excitedly. We'd been waiting months for this visit. I hoped maybe Jon was still downstairs at baggage claim when we got down there. I wanted the girls to meet him so they could give me their opinion. It's not like your average man is 6'4''. He couldn't be hard to pick out of a crowd.

We rode down the escalator chattering away while I scanned the vast group of people walking through the airport. I didn't see him.

"So, Mich…where is this man you fell in love with in Dallas?" Brandi nudged me.

"I'm actually looking for him right now but I think he's gone. God, dude… He's a creep and a half, but I could listen to him talk all day. And he smells like… I don't know. Leather, and whiskey, and…. Man. Ugh. And y'all know how I feel about blue eyes… Not really a fan. But he has some really gorgeous blue eyes. His name is Jon and he lives here in Vegas…" I said, still looking.

"So...why don't we get him to show us the town?" Chelsea asked.

"I… Didn't exactly get his number… Or his last name…" I replied, blushing.

"MICH!"

"I know, I know," I sighed, stepping off the escalator.

"I can't believe you didn't get his number. Or his last name, so you could at least creep on him. Did you get a sneaky picture or anything?" Brandi asked.

I shook my head. "I'm an idiot," I said.

"You are not. Maybe we'll run into him somewhere," she suggested.

"Chances are slim to none, but maybe."

Later that evening, we were all sprawled out on one of the king sized beds in our hotel suite, trying to figure out something to do besides go blow money in a casino. We'd all already lost almost fifty bucks.

"Well first things first, I'm hungry as fuck," Brandi said.

"Me and you both," I replied.

We looked at Chelsea.

"You guys know what I'm going to suggest…" she shrugged.

"Pizza," Brandi and I said in unison.

"So let's find a good pizza joint and go," I said, pulling out my phone and googling a place to eat.

We finally settled on a place, changed clothes and hustled a cab to get there.

"I'd say it's good. The line is out the door," Chels pointed out.

"Shit. I'm starving. This better be worth the wait," I said, paying the driver and exiting the car.

Brandi, Chelsea, and myself were all standing in line chatting about nothing in particular when a raspy voice interrupted us.

"Best pies in town," I turned in the direction of the voice and once again, was met with a face-full of pecs.

I looked up slowly and there was that shit-eating grin.

"Mich," Jon smirked.

"Jon, hi…" I said. I felt myself turning red.

"Aren't you going to introduce me to your friends?" he asked.

"Um…yeah. Jon…this is Brandi and this is Chelsea," I motioned to my friends, "Guys… This is Jon."

He shook their hands. "Otherwise known as Creep-Boy," he said, shaking Brandi's hand.

She chuckled. "Nice to meet you, Creep-Boy," she said.

"Pleasure's all mine, ladies. So…what brings you here?" he asked, non-chalant.

"Pizza," we said in unison.

"Jesus. And I'm the creepy one," he shook his head. Brandi raised her eyebrows and smirked at me. She approved. She more than approved. That look simply said hit it, and hit it hard.

"So, how about you ladies join me for dinner, I really don't wanna eat alone. That's awkward. We can shoot the breeze, drink a few beers, play some slots… Come on. What do ya say?" Jon shoved his hands in his jean pockets and gave me that grin. Brandi gave a slight nod, then Chelsea.

"Sure. Sounds good," I smiled at him sweetly. When we finally made it inside, Brandi leaned close and whispered to me how cute Jon was and that I needed to get at that.

"I'm trying!" I whispered back.

"Girl, please," she said, sliding into the booth next to Chelsea.

That only left the spot next to Jon, and he was standing by the booth, waiting for me to slide in. I was trapped. A waitress came running up to the table moments later, sat a beer down in front of Jon, and three waters in front of us.

"If you ladies need something else I can get it, but I just didn't want you to wait too long for something to drink. It's still hot as Hell out there, I know. Mox, who are your friends?" the girl asked.

'Mox? is that some kind of nickname? Last name? I'll have to remember that for later when I'm creeping on his entire life.'

"This is Mich, and… I'm sorry, I'm terrible with names," he gestured to Brandi and Chelsea.

They introduced themselves to the waitress, whose name was Carmela, and she collected our order.

"I come here every Wednesday, quarter beer night," Jon said, tipping his drink back.

I nodded and watched him as he licked his lips clean of the froth on top of his beer.

"So you can get drunk for like two bucks?" Brandi asked.

"Hell yeah," he replied.

"Or you can get alcohol poisoning for about five," I said.

"This is true," Jon agreed.

I laughed slightly and pushed my hair out of my face. "So, pizza, beer, slots…typical Wednesday in the life of you?" I asked him, poking around for conversation.

He made a face and nodded. "Pretty much," he answered.

"What about you? What's a typical Wednesday like for you?"

"Um, well, I work 40 hours a week, so usually I'm either at work, or winding down from work. Texting these two, hanging with my sisters, shopping, ya know… Girl stuff, I guess," I said.

He nodded. "What do you do?" he asked.

"Well, I'm a manager of a clothing store, Brandi is a hair stylist and makeup artist, and Chelsea is basically a professional con-goer," I laughed, "but her day-job is a MAC consultant. So I'm in fashion and these two are in makeup and hair." I said, trying to pull the girls into the conversation.

"Yup, that's us," Brandi flashed a smile. She tossed her long grey braids over her shoulder. She was so fucking pretty.

"What about you? What do you do?" I asked him. He looked almost surprised that I asked.

"I'm a professional wrestler," he said.

Brandi laughed. "No, dude, for real…what do you do?" she repeated my question.

"I'm a wrestler. For real," he told us again, straight-faced.

'Great, he was a redneck. Cowboy boots, jeans, beltbuckle, and wrestling – what was next? Did he drive a huge truck? Wear camo? Hunt? God, I hoped he didn't chew tobacco.'

"We all watch wrestling and we've never seen you," Brandi said. She was the most blunt of the three of us and had no problem voicing her opinion

"I'm not on TV yet. My partners and I are coming up next month," he said.

"So what's your name?" Chelsea asked.

"Jon," he told her.

"Your wrestling name."

"Oh. Dean Ambrose, or, my former name is Jon Moxley," he responded.

'So that's where 'Mox' came from.'

"Dean Ambrose, WWE NXT and FCW wrestler, he's not lying, guys," Chelsea said, scrolling through some website.

I felt embarrassed that we had doubted him.

"Is that Tyler Black?!" Brandi said, leaning over Chelsea's shoulder.

Jon looked at me and shrugged, "It's okay. No one ever believes me at first," he said.

"Well clearly you're telling the truth. That's pretty cool. Maybe us girls can come to one of your shows sometime, right girls?" I said.

"Yeah, yeah. Dude. His tag team partner is Tyler fucking Black. He's going by Seth Rollins in WWE," Chelsea said, showing me a picture. I nodded and looked back at Jon.

"Everyone is always into Colby, or my other partner, Joe. They're the good looking ones, and I'm the lunatic," he told me.

"I don't necessarily think you're a lunatic. Creepy, maybe, but not a lunatic. And you're not bad looking yourself," I said.

He smiled and put an arm around me. "You're my new favorite person."

I relaxed against him and we all talked about wrestling while we waited on our pizza to come out. It was midnight before we even got out of there.

"I better let you ladies get back to your vacation. Try to stay out of trouble," Jon said, his arm around me.

We were leaning against his truck – an old Ford Bronco. I was exhausted from flying all day and couldn't wait to get back to our hotel, but at the same time, I didn't want the night to be over.

"Yeah, we better call a cab and get back to the hotel," Chelsea said.

"I can take you guys back. No point in calling a cab. Where you staying?" he asked.

We told him the name of our hotel, which he said was on his way home, and he insisted on taking us back himself. It didn't take much debate, we were all pretty comfortable with him and pretty positive he wasn't some lunatic fringe psycho killer by that point, so, Brandi and Chelsea climbed in the back, sticking me up front with Jon. He grinned at me as he climbed in the driver's seat.

"Ready?" he asked.

"Yeah, I suppose so," I responded.

"Seat belt," he said, reaching over and helping me to buckle the five-point harness of a seat belt in the passenger seat.

He reached between my legs to buckle it down. I felt myself go red and heard giggles from the back seat.

"Thanks," I said. I was blushing so badly and it was starting to get hot in that vehicle.

"Anytime," he smirked. The girls quietly dozed off in the back seat, allowing Jon and I to talk alone on the way back.

"So I really had a good time tonight," Jon said, "more fun than I've had in a long time."

I smiled softly and looked over at him. The neon lights were shining in through the open windows as we cruised down the strip.

"Me too," I told him.

"I know you're on vacation with your friends, but I'd really like to see you again sometime. I know it's hard with you working all the time, and me living here and traveling, but… We could work something out, right?" he asked me.

My heart jumped in my throat. "I'm sure we could," I responded.

"Cool. I'll call you and stuff," he said.

"Sounds perfect," I smiled.

He smiled back and put his truck in park in front of the lobby of our hotel.

"Thank you for bringing us back," I said. The level of sexual tension was rising.

"My pleasure. Your friends are knocked out back there," he laughed softly.

He had the cutest dimples when he smiled. I turned and looked at them and back at him.

"Yeah, it's been a long day for all of us. I better wake them up and get them inside. We've got all kinds of things planned for tomorrow," I said, reaching to unbuckle the harness.

"Let me," Jon reached between my legs again and unhooked it for me.

As he pulled his hand out from between my legs, I felt his fingers graze my thigh and he licked his lips slowly, his eyes locked on me. I hoped he hadn't noticed I'd stopped breathing.

"Well. There ya go," he said.

"Thanks," I said. Jon leaned in closer, his thumb brushing my jaw.

'Fuck, fuck, fuck, he's going to kiss me!' I thought to myself.

I closed my eyes and leaned in, but we were stopped by a tapping on the window.

"You've gotta move, you can't park here," the security guard for our hotel was standing right outside my window.

"Fuck," I whispered.

"My thoughts exactly," Jon said, motioning to the rent-a-cop that he was going to move.

"What happened?" Chelsea asked sleepily from the backseat.

"Oh, they're alive." Jon laughed.

"We gotta go, guys. Paul Blart said so," I opened the heavy door and smiled softly at Jon.

"I'll see ya around," he flashed that grin at me again. I smiled back, feeling myself turn pink.

"Yeah. Goodnight, Jon. Thank you…for everything," I shut the door after the girls had gotten out and watched him take off down the road.

It wasn't until about an hour later I realized that, once again, I had let him get away without exchanging numbers with him. At least now I knew how I could at least look him up on Facebook or Twitter, something.

"Dean…. Ambrose…" I mumbled to myself, typing his ring name into Google. Wikipedia said that his name was Jonathan Good, so I went from there. Nothing came up on Facebook or Twitter. Maybe he wasn't a computer guy. He didn't seem like one at all.

"What are you doing awake?" Brandi asked, rolling over in bed and facing me.

"Sorry. So, let me tell you how smart I am," I said.

"Oh Lord. What now?" she asked. "I forgot to get his number again…" I told her.

"Mich!" she facepalmed.

"I know, I know. I'm terrible. He doesn't have Facebook or anything, either. So it's up to fucking fate if I see him again or not," I told her.

"Damn, dude… Hey, maybe the girl at the pizza joint knows where to find him!"

That was an idea I hadn't even thought of. He did say he went there often and the girl seemed to know him well. Maybe she knew where he lived or other places he frequented when he was at home.

"Maybe, I don't want to seem creepy by asking her though," I replied.

"I'll call up there and ask her," Brandi shrugged.

"Right now? Do you think they're still there?" I asked.

"It said 24 hours," she shrugged again.

We dug up the number for the pizza joint and she called our server, Carmela, who was glad to tell her a few different places Jon might be.

"Well, the first one is a strip club. Big shock. He's a man. It's Vegas, why not," Brandi snickered, "and the others are bars and restaurants. I wrote them all down. So, you wanna leave Chelly here and go find your man or wait until sunrise?" she asked me.

I looked at our sleeping friend and back at her.

"You wanna come?" I asked her.

"Uh, yeah, but I don't know... You and Jon Boy were all smoochy-smoochy in the car. You gonna mack on him in front of me?" she asked.

"Shut up," I laughed.

I pulled on some decent clothes before Brandi and I snuck downstairs and hitched a cab to hit up the first of five places Carmela had given Brandi to check for Jon.

After about two hours of searching, to no avail, we headed back to the hotel.

"Maybe you'll run into him again. And besides, if you don't find him here, you at least know where he works," Brandi said.

"You might be right about running into him again," I said, pointing.

There was an old Bronco parked outside of the hotel, half on the curb, half off, and Jon was feeding the parking meter. I couldn't help but giggle. He'd put at least two dollars worth of quarters in that thing since I'd spotted him. I got out of the cab and walked up behind him.

"Think you've got it or do you need another quarter?" I asked him.

He turned around on his heels, his cowboy boots digging into the gravel on the sidewalk.

"Listen, lady—oh...hello," he grinned at me.

I laughed, hugging myself. The desert air at night was chilly. "Hi," I replied.

"Think they'll tow me? I put ten bucks in," he said, pointing at his truck with a jerk of his thumb.

I shook my head, giggling again.

"Cool," he shoved his hands into his jean pockets.

"That it is," I nodded, a shiver running down my spine.

"Shit. I'm an asshole, here," he took off his leather jacket and draped it around my shoulders.

"Come on. Let's get you inside," he threw his arm around me and pulled me close, giving me even more warmth, as we started walking toward the door of the hotel. I had guessed Brandi had already gone back inside.

"You tired?" Jon asked me once we were in the lobby.

"Not really. I don't sleep much," I told him.

"Me neither," he rolled his shoulders and his neck.

"Sore?" I asked him.

He nodded. "Stiff as a board."

"Well, how about you come with me to our room and I'll work it out for you," I suggested.

I felt myself go red as I did, realizing how dirty that must have sounded.

"Show me the way," he smirked.

The ride up to the fourth floor seemed like it took forever. Chelsea was still knocked out when we got in the room, but Brandi was sitting up in an arm chair, still awake, playing on her phone. She shot us a look and shook her head. I bit my lip and looked at her apologetically. This was supposed to be a girls' trip, not a girl-meets-boy trip. I'd have to try my hardest to make it up to her and have him gone by the afternoon when we had plans. I sat on the couch and Jon plopped down beside me.

"Jon," Brandi nodded to him from the chair.

"Brandi," he grinned.

She raised an eyebrow. "You don't look happy to see me," he noted.

"I'm not… Unhappy to see you. It's just… Six in the morning. Don't you sleep?" she asked him.

He shook his head. "Not really, no," he answered.

She rolled her eyes. "Well you two, please, keep it down. I'm going to try and sleep," Brandi said, rising from the chair and heading toward one of the bedrooms.

"Goodnight B," I said.

"Night Boo. Get some rest," she said, closing the bedroom door behind her.

"Should I go?" Jon asked me quietly.

"And waste ten dollars in quarters?" I laughed softly.

"Maybe we should go out on the balcony," he suggested.

"Sure. Come on," I got up and pulled his jacket on all the way. It smelled like whiskey and cologne; like him.

"Sit," I instructed him, pointing toward the chair on the balcony.

"Yes ma'am," he replied, taking a seat.

The balcony overlooked the strip, the neon lights twinkling, the sun rising in the distance.

"It's so beautiful here," I said as I began to work on his neck and shoulders.

"Oh God," he groaned, "That feels good. Yeah, it's nice here. I dig it."

I couldn't help but notice the scars on his back and neck that his tank top didn't hide. Now wasn't the time to ask about those, I barely knew him.

"I feel that way about Dallas. I'm not originally from there. But its home," I said.

Jon shook his head. "I don't think its home. I don't really feel like I have a home," he said.

I frowned. "How come?" I asked.

"I've never felt like I did. Never been in love. Never had a home. I mean, I have an apartment. Just a bed and some clothes. A coffee maker, but…" he shrugged to end his thought.

I traced a finger over a long, deep scar that ran from the back of his neck about six inches down his spine.

"I don't know if I've ever been in love, either. Don't know if I ever will be. I don't think there's anyone out there who will love me. It's like… Do you ever feel like you're destined to be alone for the entirety of your life?"

"All the time. But I mean, I work three-hundred-plus days a year. I don't have time to settle down. If I get a girl, she's gonna have to understand my lifestyle. And you don't find that anywhere except within the business itself. And I tried that shit, fuck that," he said.

"Didn't end well huh?" I asked.

"Nope," he replied. I stopped working on his back and moved so he could see me.

"I was in a relationship once. I thought it was going really well, and then… I don't know. I honestly don't know what happened. We were perfect one day, and the next, I guess his friends found out we were a thing and he told me he never meant any of it. He never loved me; he never wanted to be with me. I had the wrong idea about all of it," I shrugged.

"That's bullshit. You don't deserve that," Jon said, patting himself down, "is there a pack of cigarettes in that pocket?"

I patted the jacket down and handed him the pack.

"Thanks," he took one out and stuck it between his lips carefully, ran a hand through his hair, and put the cigarette back.

"Change your mind?" I asked, laughing softly.

"Yeah. I don't even know why I bought them," he shrugged

He laid the pack on the table by his chair and looked up at me slowly, from my feet to my eyes. The sun was almost fully raised and in the early morning light, he was even more attractive. He had a five o'clock shadow full of reddish-blonde scruff and his curly blonde mop on top of his head was so unkempt, I wasn't sure he owned a brush; but what really got me was those dimples, and that smile, and God, those blue eyes.

"You're really beautiful. I don't normally say that to girls, but you really are," Jon said, breaking my train of thought.

"I was just thinking the same about you," I replied before I could stop myself.

One corner of his mouth pulled into a smile, a soft chuckle resonating from his body.

"Nah," he reached and pulled me to him by the hand, pulling me into his lap. I hoped the chair wouldn't buckle beneath us, "but you. You are." Jon pushed my hair behind my ear and leaned in, his lips finally touching mine.

I felt like my heart was going to pound out of my chest. My mind finally realized what was going on and I kissed him back, my hands resting on his shoulders. It lasted for what seemed like forever. When we finally pulled away, I rested my forehead against his, slightly breathless.

"I better go…" he said, rubbing my side.

"Why?" I asked, leaning in again.

He kissed me softly and rubbed my chin. "I have to fly out for work tonight," he replied.

"Will I see you again?" I asked him

He kissed me once more. "Definitely. But uh...the whole reason I tracked you down…I don't have your number. All I know is your name is Mich and you live in Dallas. I don't think that's gonna help me track you down when I come to town," he said.

I blushed. "No, you're right. That's kind of where Brandi and I had gone…we were looking for you so I could get your number." Jon laughed.

"So you trekked over half of Vegas to find me to get my number?" he asked.

I nodded, blushing. "Damn. And to think, just twenty-four hours ago you thought I was just some creepy dude in the airport," he patted down his jacket pocket and pulled his phone out. "Save your number in this. I don't know how to work that damn thing."

I laughed and took it from him, put my number into his contacts and sent myself a text so I'd have his.

"You gonna call me?" he asked.

"Yeah. I'll call you. Do you text?" I replied.

"I'm not very good at it. I learned how to take a picture the other day," he smiled that shit-eating grin.

I shook my head, laughing. "We should take one together," I said, "so I can remember this night."

Jon nodded. "Under one circumstance?" he said.

"Alright, what's your stipulation?"

"Don't post it on the internet."