A/N: I know, I know it's late and I apologize for the delay. Homework and projects,plus reading this terrible book for English. I hope that it was worth the wait. And also, I don't know if I got every detail of Vegas right. I've only been once and I wasn't old enough to do anything there- I'm still not old enough to do anything. So I used my imagination. And what I learned from the "Atlantic City" episode of How I Met Your Mother. And I promise they'll get to Ohio by the next chapter!

Disclaimer: I asked Santa for the rights for Christmas. I'll let you know if I got them. But for now, it's not mine.

"You want me to go where?"

Ashley laughs and grabs my hands, spinning me around. "C'mon, Spence! One last big blow-out of partying before we head off to small town Ohio? Please?" She looks at me with puppy dog eyes and I can't resist. She knows I can't, so it's always her secret weapon whenever she needs me to do something for her. But she doesn't even have to do that. She can just look at me, and I'll do anything.

"Fine," I grumble. "But only because you asked so nicely."

Ashley scoffs at this. "Yeah, right. It's because you love me SO much."

"Keep dreaming, Davies," I joke as I climb back into the car. Vegas, here we come.

We arrive in Vegas around seven at night, and the first thing Ashley wants to do is hit the bars. Thankfully, we're both 21, so I don't have to pull her away from illegal activities.

"We need to get a hotel room first," I insist. "If you end up getting wildly drunk-"

"-which is a very likely situation," she laughs.

"Right," I agree. "And considering that, I don't wanna have to drive you around with you telling me how amazingly exhilarating the ride is before throwing up all over the seats while I look for a hotel, most of which probably would have no vacancy."

She sighs in this happy kind of way. "Where would I be without you?"

"Probably dead in some alley in downtown LA." She laughs, and we speed off as the light changes.

The receptionist looks at us when we tell her we want to share a room. She probably thinks that we're together; the way she looks at us just says that. This is why I stay hidden, in the closet. Complete strangers giving me funny looks- and Ashley isn't even my girlfriend- because of who I love. Granted, I haven't loved a girl in five years, not since... Ohio. But I remember the prejudice. I remember the hate. I remember, but I want to forget.

We unlock the door to our room and dump all our stuff in it, looking at its coziness.

"I wish we'd looked at a room before we got it," I say. "This place is miniature."

"Hey, this is your vacation," Ashley reminds me with a smirk.

"I didn't want to come here."

She smiles genuinely and puts her hand on my arm. "But you're here. And I am officially going to make sure you have some fun!" She drags me out the door, laughing, to the streets.

We are walking down the Vegas streets. She's smiling brightly and pointing out the eccentric people going down the road, too. I'm surprisingly not dreading this night as much as I thought I would. Maybe it's because of all the energy around us.

Maybe it's because she's holding my hand.

Ashley leads me into the Luxor- it's the big black pyramid.

"Hey, Spencer, you any good at cards?" she wonders.

"Actually, I'm decent at blackjack." She raises her eyebrows. She didn't think little innocent me would even touch anything related to gambling. "My dad taught me. A long time ago." She gives me a sad, understanding smile and squeezes my hand. And then she pulls her big smile again as she runs for the black jack table.

And suddenly I realize what this trip to Vegas is about. It's about forgetting. Because for the past five years, I haven't been able to go an hour without Ohio crossing my mind in some form or another, whether it's Luke or Elle or my family or just memories. Tonight is the first step in the road to recovery: I have to learn to forget it, learn to ignore it, learn to live with it without it eating up my insides and sending me into a state of depression. But that will come later. Tonight is for forgetting.

I sit down at the blackjack table. There's three others there- all guys- plus the dealer. One of them is dressed in a suit and looks a little too clean cut to be hanging out in a Vegas gambling place. The second has on a Red Sox cap and reminds me a little of Rob of "Amazing Race" and "Survivor" fame, and the last guy is obviously a tourist, with his Hawaiian shirt and khakis.

"You want in?" the dealer asks.

"Yeah," I say numbly, not even sure why I'm doing this. That's right: I'm doing this to forget. "Hit me."

Ashley gives him some money and smiles at me. He hands me my chips, and we all place a couple in the center. The dealer throws out the cards and flips his one card over. Seven.

I look at my two cards. Ashley's hands are on my shoulders, making it a little hard for me to concentrate. Her nose is scrunched up in an adorable way as she tries to figure out what I should do. It's a tough decision. I have a seven and an eight. Fifteen.

We all go around and get hit or stand. I get another card. Four. Fifteen and four. Nineteen. My first hand is looking good.

"I'm gonna go get a drink," Ashley whispers into my ear. I try to ignore the shivers up and down my spine as she says that. Tonight is for forgetting. "What anything?"

"Surprise me," I mutter, absorbed in the game. Blackjack has always had a calming effect on me. It's the only card game I ever really liked. Probably because it's the one my dad spent the most time teaching me, on warm spring nights out on the grass-

Forget. Don't think about it.

Two hours and two drinks later, I've earned about fifty dollars and decide to call it quits. I haven't seen Ashley for about an hour. Last I checked, she went to do some shots in a drinking competition.

I leave the table Red Sox Hat shoots me an angry look. I think he's mad that a girl beat him. I'm heading over to the bar, where I believe Ashley is. I scan the length of it, seeing lots of empty glasses and hearty faces, but none of them belonging to Ashley.

"SPENCEY!" I whip around to see a very drunk Ashley wielding a bottle of beer and wearing a goofy smile. "I've got a surprise for you!" She pulls me along, weaving crazily through the tables and slot machines, giggling the entire time.

I'm a little buzzed, so I don't care as much where she's leading me. But I still wanna know. "Where are we going?"

"It's a surprise!" she repeats, with more giggling. "Close your eyes and let me lead you there!" And like the buzzed idiot I am, I trust her. I close my eyes as she leads me- she's wobbly on her feet, but she's going very slowly, like she knows that if she goes any faster she risks hurting me.

Vegas is an interesting place, but it's even more interesting when you can't see anything. The smells become ten times more pungent and the sounds are amplified in your ears. I can make out all the conversations around me as we whizzed past the people; I can smell their fried food and hot dogs, and I know when we pass the M 'n' M's building because I can smell the chocolate. I enjoyed it, running around with my eyes closed, feeling the world through a different point of view. Through my feet on the ground, through my ears, through my nose, through Ashley's hand.

"Spencer! We're here!" Ashley says as we tumble through a door. I try to open my eyes, but she pushes her hand in front of them. "You gotta guess! Where do you think we're at!"

I have no idea, but judging by the softness under my feet, I think we're on another casino's gambling floor. "Some casino?"

"No silly." She giggles again. "Another guess!"

"Ashley," I whine. I've never liked guessing games. "Just tell me."

"Fine," she huffs, but it's clear she isn't mad. She takes her hand away from my eyes and my jaw drops.

"Ashley!" I'm too in shock to do anything.

"Say yes, please!" she begs.

And since you're probably wondering what that means, it will all become clear when I tell you where we are: the Little Wedding Chapel.

Thankfully, I'm sober enough to realize that marrying Ashley is not a good idea at the moment, and probably not even allowed in the state of Nevada. "Ashley, I don't think this is such a good idea-"

"Don't you love me?" Her face is heartbroken and it's almost adorable enough for me to tell her that I will marry her. Almost.

I am suddenly aware of a pounding headache as she latches onto my arm. "Of course I love you. But not like that." I wrestle out of her grip and head outside. She follows me like an overly loyal dog.

"Spencer, I love you! I love you! I love you!" she sings. I grab her by the arm and tell her that we are going back to the hotel because she's too drunk to think coherently anymore. She laughs and agrees to go if she can hold my hand. Reluctantly, I give it to her. She skips back, dragging me along, half-running, half-skipping, completely laughing at her stupidity.

We get into the hotel, and she peels away from my hand, getting lost in the crowd. I moan, not really looking to find her. I keep her in my sight for a couple of seconds before a slightly tipsy guy stands in front of me.

"Hey," he says.

"Hi," I mutter distractedly. I'm trying to get around him to find Ashley.

"What's up?"

I shoot him a look. "I'm looking for my friend and you're in the way." I try to duck past him, but he gets in my way again.

"This friend of yours? He can wait." The guy winks at me and I'm disgusted.

"My friend is a girl," I tell him, trying to get around him. But he's always a step ahead of me.

"Then ditch her and let me show you what a man can do," he says.

I'm about to make an angry retort, when I hear loud catcalls coming from the bar. The guy and I both turn around to see Ashley dancing on top the bar about to take her shirt off.

"Oh shit."

"Damn! Is that your friend?" the guy laughs. I get over there and grab the bottom of Ashley's shirt before she has the chance to lift it off.

"Ashley!" I yell. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Having some fun!" All the guys at the bar cheer and whoop. "C'mon, let's give 'em a show!" She tries to pull me on the bar with her, but I resist.

"Ashley! We are not giving them a show. That's what strippers are for. You are not a stripper," I tell her forcefully.

"I could be," she shoots back, and I don't deny it. Because it's definitely true.

"Yes, well, let's go," I say. "We've got a long day ahead of us tomorrow." I realize I'm probably going to have to drive, and this makes me even angrier for agreeing to go on this little detour. However, it does postpone my arrival time in Ohio. But I'm not supposed to be thinking about Ohio. Forget.

I lead her into the elevator and she leans against the wall, laughing. "Spence, that was so fun!" She laughs some more. Then she starts to pull her shirt up again.

"Ashley!" I pull it back down, no matter how much brain is telling me to let her take it off. Now is not the time. Because the shirt coming off is making me remember. I need to forget.

"I'm gonna be your stripper tonight!" Somewhere, my brain registers that she just said that, but I can't really process it at all.

"No stripping!" I say fiercely. "We are going back to the hotel room and we are going to bed."

"Together?" She giggles.

"No."

But when we get back to the hotel room, she plops on down her bed, quickly taking off her shoes, roping me in with her. She wraps both her arms around me and cuddles as close as we can.

"Mhmm," she sighs into me. "Yummy."

I chuckle, and can't get up. I kick my shoes off and settle in.

She scoots a little closer. I put my hand on her back.

And I forget.