The sunlight poured mercilessly into the suite at the MGM Grand, casting a sharp spotlight directly onto the disheveled figure lying face down in bed. Jessica Riley groaned as the painful throb of a hangover reminded her of everything she had tried to drink away the night before. Her head felt like it had been used as a punching bag, and her mouth tasted like she'd tried to swallow the desert.

"Ugh… never again…" she mumbled, barely able to open one eye as she tried to lift her head off the pillow. But gravity, her new worst enemy, had other plans.

Just then, the door to the room burst open, revealing Kaitlyn Ka and Emma Mountebank, both looking way too chipper for this ungodly hour.

"Rise and shine, Vegas warrior!" Kaitlyn announced loudly, slapping a hand on Jessica's back, causing her to groan in agony.

"Oh god, kill me now," Jessica whined, burying her face back into the pillow. "What time is it? Where am I? Am I dead?"

"Nope," Emma said cheerfully, "but you almost died on the dance floor last night. You threw up in a trash can, remember?"

Jessica's memory, unfortunately, started piecing itself together. The trash can. The glitter. The Litty City Gay Club. She groaned louder.

"I thought I dreamt that," she mumbled.

"Nope, all real," Kaitlyn confirmed. "Now, get your sorry ass out of bed because we're all heading to the Marquee Dayclub for a pool party."

Jessica winced at the mention of a party. "A pool party? You're telling me we're not done with partying after last night?"

Emma and Kaitlyn exchanged knowing smirks.

"Jessica, we're in Vegas," Emma said matter-of-factly. "We're never done with partying."

"Yeah, it's like a requirement. Plus, Josh said we need to experience everything Vegas has to offer, and he's planning some ridiculous pool float battle or something." Kaitlyn added.

Jessica let out a long, exaggerated groan but finally dragged herself out of bed, despite every fiber of her being screaming for her to crawl back under the covers and stay there for the rest of her life.

At the Marquee Dayclub...

The Marquee Dayclub was a sun-soaked haven of extravagance. The pool sparkled under the hot Vegas sun, and the crowd was already in full swing—drinks in hand, music blaring, and inflatable swans and unicorns floating on the water. This was the kind of place where people came to pretend they were living their best lives, regardless of whether or not that was remotely true.

Kaitlyn, now fully dressed in her most fabulous pool attire, strutted toward the bar. "Drinks on me, people!"

"You're buying drinks in Vegas?" Dylan asked, surprised as he followed behind. "What happened to the whole 'scamming free drinks out of strangers' game?"

Kaitlyn gave him a wink. "We're in Vegas. I'm making investments today."

The rest of the group, including Mike, Josh, Matt, Laura, Max, Abigail, and the others, scattered around the pool area, taking in the vibes. Josh had found a giant inflatable pizza slice and was floating in the middle of the pool, sunglasses on, pretending he didn't have a care in the world.

"Is it just me," Ryan said as he slid his aviators down the bridge of his nose, "or is this whole place just one big Instagram photo op?"

"It is an Instagram photo op," Emma chimed in, snapping selfies with the pool as her backdrop. "But we look amazing, so what's the problem?"

Jessica, still moving at half-speed thanks to her killer hangover, sat down at the edge of the pool and dipped her feet in. "I swear, if anyone so much as splashes me, I will personally end them."

Mike, ever the instigator, appeared out of nowhere with a giant water gun. "Did someone say splash?" he teased, holding the water gun dangerously close to Jessica.

"Mike, I'm warning you—"

Too late. A stream of water hit her right in the face.

"MIKE!"

Jessica lunged at him, but the pool water did not mix well with her hangover-induced lack of coordination. She slipped and fell right into the water, sending a tidal wave of pool water into the air.

As Jessica surfaced, glaring daggers at Mike, the whole group erupted into laughter. Mike, however, was already sprinting away, narrowly dodging a pool noodle thrown in his direction.

"You're a dead man, Munroe!" Jessica shouted after him, though the smile on her face betrayed her enjoyment of the chaos.

Enter the Antagonist...

Just when it seemed like the group was finally settling into their chaotic, carefree Vegas fun, the atmosphere shifted. A hush fell over the pool area as a figure strutted into the dayclub like they owned the place.

"Oh no," Max muttered, standing on the edge of the pool and staring. "Is that...?"

"Who?" Abigail asked, squinting to get a better look at the newcomer.

Everyone turned to see the source of the sudden attention. It was none other than Silas Vorez—the latest reality TV star-turned-celebrity influencer whose sole purpose in life seemed to be making everyone around him feel inferior. His entire aura screamed drama, from his overly manicured hair to his ridiculously expensive designer swimwear.

"Oh my god," Emma whispered. "It's him. The celebrity bitch."

Jessica, having just managed to wring out her hair after her unplanned swim, squinted toward Silas, who was now making his way to the VIP section like royalty. "Who the hell is that?"

"That's Silas Vorez," Laura explained, her face twisted into a frown. "He's the kind of guy who buys followers just so he can call himself famous."

"Total diva," Kaitlyn added. "He's basically famous for being an ass to everyone on Instagram. Think Wendigos, but with an attitude."

"Great," Jessica groaned. "That's exactly what I needed today. A human Wendigo with a superiority complex."

As if on cue, Silas glanced toward the group, his eyes sweeping over them like they were something unpleasant he'd just stepped in.

"Oh, look," he said loudly enough for everyone to hear. "Peasants."

Jacob, never one to let an insult slide, snorted. "Peasants? Dude, you're literally at the same dayclub as us. You're not that special."

Silas raised an eyebrow, his lips curling into a condescending smile. "Oh, sweetie, that's where you're wrong. I'm not just at this dayclub. I am this dayclub."

Emma nearly choked on her drink. "I'm sorry, but what?"

"Does he think he's a werewolf or something?" Ryan asked, genuinely confused.

Before the group could process the absurdity of the situation, Silas's entourage—three equally vapid, equally dramatic influencers—descended upon the pool area, taking selfies and demanding that everyone else get out of their shot.

"Seriously?" Kaitlyn rolled her eyes. "We're at a public pool. They can't just—"

"They can't just what?" Silas interrupted, his voice dripping with fake sweetness. "Own this place? Oh honey, we already do."

Josh, still floating lazily on his pizza slice, raised a hand. "I vote we ignore him. Attention only makes them stronger."

Unfortunately, that tactic did not work. Silas was on a mission to make himself the center of everyone's world. He dramatically leaned on the bar, glaring at the bartender when his drink wasn't served fast enough. His entourage, meanwhile, continued to hog the VIP area, declaring that they "only drink champagne and vodka distilled by monks in the Alps."

"Monks? In the Alps?" Jessica echoed, incredulous. "Is he serious?"

"Oh, he's serious," Mike said, laughing. "And by the end of today, we're probably going to be dragged into whatever drama vortex he's creating."

As if on cue, Silas suddenly turned his attention back to them. "You know, it's really cute that you all think you belong here. But trust me, this club only has room for real influencers."

"Real influencers?" Dylan asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "What do you even influence? Botox sales?"

Silas smirked. "Please, Botox is for amateurs. I influence lifestyles. And you?" He glanced around the group. "You all look like the before pictures."

That was the last straw.

Kaitlyn, ever the queen of comebacks, stood up, hands on her hips. "Listen here, reality show reject. No one asked for your unsolicited opinions, so why don't you take your inflated ego, deflate it just a little, and float on out of here?"

Silas blinked, momentarily stunned by the clapback. His entourage, equally shocked, gasped in unison.

Before Silas could respond, Josh, still floating on his pizza slice, broke the tension by lazily shouting, "Guys, this pizza float has been the best part of my day. Can we focus on what really matters?"

The group collectively groaned, but it was enough to break the awkward moment. Silas, still fuming, muttered something about "peasants" before dramatically storming off, his entourage trailing behind him like lost puppies.

"Good riddance," Kaitlyn muttered, watching them leave. "I thought dealing with werewolves was bad, but that guy?"

"Worse than a Wendigo," Jessica agreed. "At least Wendigos don't wear designer flip-flops."

The group settled back into their poolside routine, trying to forget the brief but ridiculous encounter with Vegas's most dramatic influencer. Drinks were refilled, laughs were shared, and the DJ continued to blast music as the sun set over the Vegas skyline.

"Well," Josh said as he paddled his pizza slice back to the edge of the pool, "at least this time, no one threw up in a trash can."

Jessica shot him a look. "Josh, if you jinx this day, I swear—"

"Don't worry," Josh interrupted, grinning. "Nothing bad ever happens in Vegas."

The entire group groaned in unison as they realized Josh had just jinxed them.

"Way to go, Josh," Mike said, shaking his head. "Now we're definitely cursed."

But despite the minor celebrity drama and Josh's inevitable jinx, the day ended with the group in surprisingly high spirits. And who knew? There was still plenty of time left in Vegas for more bad decisions and unexpected twists.

After all, as Josh had said—nothing bad ever happens in Vegas... right?