As the jet touched down in Vegas, Frida's nerves were a tangled mess.
She hadn't been able to sleep a wink on the flight, her mind racing with anticipation and anxiety.
When she stepped off the plane, the intense heat hit her like a slap in the face, the wind carrying the distinct aroma of the desert and city life.
Vegas was alive, a place that seemed to hum with energy even as the sun began to set.
A sleek black Lexus pulled up to the tarmac, its paint gleaming under the lights of the private runway.
The driver's side door opened, and a man stepped out. He was of average height, with messy, dirty blonde hair and a grin that made him look perpetually mischievous.
"Leo?!" Frida exclaimed, her eyes narrowing in disbelief.
Leo. Laz's stepbrother. Of course.
"Hey, your mom told me to come get you," Leo said, pulling her into a warm, slightly awkward hug.
