Only in Vegas

“Lauren, calm down. You’re squealing. Start over again, but slowly.”

Mia rubbed at her temple, glancing at the half-written email on her laptop, already feeling the beginnings of a headache forming.

“I said,” Lauren repeated with exaggerated slowness, “My great-grandad just passed. Suddenly left an insane inheritance behind. And guess what? Me and his other grandkids are splitting it. I’ve got fifty grand sat in my account right now. So obviously—we’re going to Vegas. Two girls. Four nights. Casinos. Drinks. Chaos. Come on.”

Mia sighed, already feeling the familiar pull of Lauren’s madness mixed with dread.

Lauren’s ideas always started like this. Excitement first. Regret second. And sometimes? Actual danger. Mia still hadn’t entirely forgiven her for that weekend in Brighton when they’d ended up stranded after Lauren “forgot” to book the hotel properly. Or the festival last summer where they narrowly avoided someone’s sketchy van party because Mia did check the reviews.

Fun came naturally to Lauren.

Trouble followed.

“You do remember the last time we followed one of your ‘great plans,’ right?” Mia said  dryly. “I’m still mentally recovering from that campsite fiasco.”

Lauren groaned, unrepentant. “Oh, come on. Nothing bad actually happened.”

“Not for lack of trying. One day, you’re going to get me killed.”

There was a pause, then Lauren’s softer voice came through the line. “You’ve been playing it safe since he cheated on you. I’m not saying Vegas fixes that—but I’m saying you deserve something better than just… hiding in your flat.”

The mention of her ex made Mia’s stomach twist.

Safe. She’d been safe since everything with Daniel crumbled—safe, cold, untouchable. And yeah, maybe she missed the feeling of someone’s hand curling around her waist at a bar, that lazy thrill of attention. But trusting someone again? Letting go like that?

“I’m not hiding,” Mia said sharply. “I’m just… done with liars. Done with playing stupid.”

Lauren’s laugh was light, teasing. “That’s exactly why you need Vegas. You don’t play stupid—you play to win. You’ve always been the sharp one, Mia. And if we’re smart? We could double that money and finally get that house we’ve been dreaming about.”

The dream house. The life they’d talked about after too many cheap bottles of Prosecco and half-burnt pizzas on Mia’s old sofa. A future.

“Fine,” Mia said after a long pause. “I’m in. But I swear to God—if I die on this trip, I’m haunting you.”

Lauren whooped. “Deal. Get ready, babe. This is going to be the best mistake you’ve ever made.”

Mia hung up with a sharp breath, eyes drifting to the small crack in the corner of her laptop screen—a reminder that things break, even when you don’t expect them to.

Vegas wasn’t just a holiday.

It was a risk.

And Mia didn’t like losing. Not at work. Not with money. Especially not her heart.

A couple of hours later, Mia was halfway through her final emails for the day when a knock at the door pulled her out of her little work bubble. She closed her laptop with a satisfying snap and stretched, rolling some tension out of her shoulders before heading to the door.

Lauren practically fell into the hallway, phone in hand, face flushed with excitement.

“Oh my God, Mia—you’ve got to look at this hotel I found in the way here,” she gushed, shoving the phone screen in her face. “We won’t even have to leave if we don’t want to. Casino, bar, pool, the works. There’s no chance you will get lost. I know you hate that feeling.”

Mia glanced down at the listing. Four nights, £4,500. Wild. But Lauren could afford it now, and Mia had promised she wouldn’t argue about it.

“It looks great,” Mia said honestly. “Get it booked—we’ve got shopping to do.”

Lauren squealed like she’d won the jackpot already. “Finally. This is going to be amazing.”

For once, Mia let herself get swept up in it. She’d been too cautious for too long. Between work stress, the whole mess with Daniel, and Lauren’s constant need for chaos, she’d spent months on the outside of her own life looking in.

Vegas wasn’t just a holiday. It was a new hand dealt. A chance to play again—and win.

The shopping trip went better than expected. Usually, Mia wasn’t one for splashing out on expensive clothes, but when she slipped into a black silk dress that hugged her in all the right places, even she had to stop and stare.

Lauren poked her head around the curtain. “Oh my God, Mia. That dress. You have to get it. My treat. For saying yes to this trip.”

Mia rolled her eyes but smiled softly at her reflection. Elegant. Sharp. Classy, but still with a soft kind of danger to it. Exactly the kind of thing she’d want to be wearing if she found herself flirting with a stranger over cocktails and high stakes.

“I could get used to this,” she murmured.

“That’s the spirit,” Lauren said, tapping her card on the machine before Mia could argue. “You’re going to need it when some stupidly hot stranger tries to buy you a drink and you pretend you’re not interested.”

They both laughed, and for once, Mia let herself feel excited. The idea of someone leaning in at a bar, brushing his hand over hers, asking if she was here for business or pleasure—it didn’t sound so far off anymore.

By the time they’d packed up their bags and headed back to the car, Mia’s nerves had twisted into something else entirely: unexpected anticipation.

“Everything’s booked,” Lauren smirked in triumph finally winning Mia over . “Tomorrow we will be on that plane.”

“How about a glass of Prosecco to celebrate?” Mia offered as they dumped the shopping bags by the door. “Just one. I’ve got work to finish tomorrow morning before we go.”

“Sure. Just one.”

Naturally, just one turned into finishing the bottle, their laughter echoing around the living room. By the time Lauren called a taxi home, Mia felt lighter than she had in weeks.

Maybe, just maybe, this was exactly what she needed.

Later, Mia sat on the edge of her bed, suitcase open, folding her new dress carefully between layers of soft fabric. Her mind drifted to the idea of Vegas, not just the flashing lights and casino floors—but the possibility of someone seeing her differently. Not as someone serious or careful, but as someone fun. Desirable. On a side of caution she grabbed her safety keys, a small keyring with several types of self defence items all bundled together with a fluffy ball keychain, and placed them in her bag.

Her phone buzzed beside her hand.

Lauren: All packed and ready. Vegas isn’t ready for us.

Mia smiled and typed back a quick response before curling up under her duvet.

For once, the nervous flutter in her chest wasn’t just anxiety—it was excitement.

Money. Freedom. Maybe even someone worth playing with.

Finally, the game was about to begin.

Her dreams filled with the buzzing noise of poker chips and the crowd, loud slot machines and a mysterious dark-haired man standing in the back ground with eyes of desire and pure evil.

“Oh crap.”

Mia shot upright in bed, heart racing, the sick twist of panic knotting in her stomach. She’d slept through her alarms. All three of them. Her phone buzzed angrily on the bedside table, lighting up with missed notifications.

Three hours late. Perfect. Now she had no chance to finish her work emails.

Fumbling for her phone, she called Lauren, bracing for the storm. But when Lauren answered, she sounded just as wrecked and groggy as Mia felt.

“Don’t panic—I overslept too,” Lauren admitted with a tired laugh. “Two disasters in sync.”

Mia let out a breath of relief, though the nerves didn’t quite leave. “I’ll head to yours. We can get ready from there.”

She jumped in the shower, racing through her routine—washing her hair, shaving her legs, moving fast but careful enough not to slice herself in the rush. Steam filled the small bathroom, curling around her as she tried to fight the buzz of nervous excitement rising under her skin. This was it. Vegas. No more talking. No more dreaming. It was actually happening.

By the time she finished and wrapped her hair up in socks to curl it, the taxi was already pulling up outside. It was unlike Mia to be late, that damn Processo.

She grabbed her bags, barely managing to zip the last one closed, and dashed out the door with a quick, “Thank you!” to the waiting driver.

The taxi ride was silent, save for the occasional hum of the tires over the tarmac. The taxi smelled like stale tobacco and McDonald’s chips. driver didn’t speak, which was honestly fine by Mia. Her thoughts were loud enough on their own.

What if she lost everything at the tables? What if she got swept up in Lauren’s usual chaos and it ended badly? What if she actually met someone… and let herself enjoy it?

Her fingers tapped lightly on her safety keyring dangling from her bag—the pepper spray, the seatbelt cutter, the little hidden blade, all wrapped in fluff and pastel like armor disguised as cute.

“Vegas isn’t that dangerous,” she muttered under her breath, like saying it out loud might make it true.

The taxi finally stopped outside Lauren’s apartment. Mia stepped out into the early morning air, damp curls falling loose around her shoulders, warm from the socks, dark brown and gently waved. Her bag dug into her shoulder, but she barely noticed.

Lauren greeted her with a grin, hair in a messy bun, eyes rimmed with leftover eyeliner from the night before. The apartment was small, warm, slightly chaotic—like Lauren herself—but comfortable in a way that always made Mia relax.

As they flung open makeup bags and scattered clothes across the living room, Mia felt that familiar hum of excitement again. This was happening. After everything—work, breakups, holding her life together with careful, quiet control—something fun was finally on the horizon.

After an hour of mascara, curling irons, zipping, repacking, and rushed sips of cold coffee, they were finally ready.

Miraculously, they wouldn’t miss their flight.

“I’ve ordered the taxi to the airport,” Mia said, straightening up as she glanced at her phone.

Lauren nodded, quickly texting her sister about the cat-sitting duties. “We’re actually doing this.”

Outside, the taxi pulled up with a quiet purr, and for the first time in a long time, Mia felt the thrill of possibility blooming in her chest.

Vegas was waiting. Money. Fun. Maybe even someone worth her time.

And this time, she wasn’t going to lose.