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birthday is turning out. While celebrity has made it hard to have a private life, perks like these make it all worthwhile.

5

    â€œT WENTY-ONE !” EVERYBODY AT the blackjack table hollers.
    â€œBird, you’re on fire!” Stella says next to me.
    After dinner, we hit up Colton’s gorgeous nightclub. He escorted us right to the VIP area, where we had an overhead view of the entire club and unlimited bottle service. We danced hard, took lots of pics with random people, and I let loose in a way that I don’t think I ever have.
    Now it is way past midnight, and we are hitting up the casinos, making our rounds through the games. With Colton by my side, it’s like the whole resort is our playground: Nobody has carded us and nobody has asked me for an autograph. He has consistently led me to the calmest tables with the fewest tourists, and we’ve played roulette, been on the slot machines, and even shot craps. It’s been so unbelievably nice to have a real night out, especially since I get to spend it with a hot guy who can relate to the insanity of living life in the public eye.
    â€œBird, after this, Hold’em?” Dylan asks, his eyes twinkling.
    â€œOh, good idea! We’ll clean house.” We high-five, reminiscing about the many hours we spent playing poker growing up on the RV.
    Dylan has really loosened up since dinner, partly because he’s been a lucky gambler tonight and partly because the free beer keeps coming. As for Stella and me, we’ve discovered that while we don’t care for beer or champagne, strawberry daiquiris are delicious. I can’t even taste the alcohol. And they just keep coming, like magic.
    I like that I’ve been able to impress Colton Holley. He has been right at my side, or like now, standing behind me with his hands on my shoulders, at every table. He whispers encouragement and continues to tell me what a “shrewd” gambler I am. He’s five years older than me, but I feel like I’m holding my own, like the age difference doesn’t matter.
    â€œYou are a timeless beauty, Miss Barrett,” Colton mumbles into the nape of my neck. Involuntarily, I lean into him. My body feels loose and alive all at once.
    â€œYou have to hit that,” I hear Dylan tell Stella.
    â€œNo, mate,
you
have to hit
that
,” a tipsy Colton jokes, nudging Dylan’s upper arm. He laughs heartily at his own joke, but I cringe. Dylan shoots him a death stare.
    â€œColton, what time is it?” I ask, trying to diffuse the tension. The round continues as he pulls out his cell phone.
    â€œThree.”
    â€œThree in the morning?” I ask. That feels impossible, but as I look around the casino, I realize that there aren’t any windows and that the vitality of this place, the constant high of winning—or determination to win back what’s been lost—keeps people going.
    â€œWe should probably go upstairs,” I say. I stand up and stumble into him.
    Colton wraps his arms around me and murmurs in my ear, “That sounds like a marvelous idea.”
    I giggle. I meant my room, but he thinks I meant his room. That’s funny. Why is that so funny?
    â€œBird, Hold’em?” Dylan asks. He and Stella have gathered their chips and are standing next to us now.
    â€œI don’t have to hold him,” I say slowly. I am fully in Colton’s arms now and don’t feel capable of standing on my own. “He’s holding me!” I giggle again. Stella laughs, too. “Why is that so funny?” I ask her.
    â€œI don’t know,” she says, tears in her eyes. “But it’s really funny.”
    â€œOh-kay,” Dylan says. “It’s late. Let’s get you girls back up to the suite.” Stella reaches over to the table for our drinks, but Dylan intercepts her, putting them on the tray of a passing waiter. “I think y’all have had enough tonight,” he says. He