Rich, entitled girls can be so annoying.

I already saw that girl back inside the mall, trading in her shiny new phone for a slightly-shinier, slightly-newer phone. Such waste.

If she has the time to upgrade her phone every time a new version comes out, she needs to rethink her priorities, because that kid was out of control.

Sure, she’s hot—or at least she seemed hot from the back when I passed her by at the phone stand, and from afar when we were at the parking lot—but I feel bad for her husband.

Poor dude probably has to work all day to fund his wife’s expensive spending habit and come home exhausted late at night, only to be terrorized by that skateboarding ball of disastrous energy.

But hell, I don’t have time to be worrying about other people’s families. I have my mom to take care of, and she’s plenty.

I don’t mean my mom rides skateboards in mall parking lots and crashes into random cars . . . I chuckle to myself at the mental picture.

It’s just that my mom can be difficult.

Despite my mom’s protests, I’ve been working part-time to help pay the bills while I finish medical school. She wants me to focus on my studies and let her worry about covering our expenses, but I can’t do that.

Mom used to have quite a lot of money in her bank account, but nobody would know it by the way we live. Most of Mom’s money has gone into my education.

I knew medical school was going to be expensive and I almost decided to skip college so I could work in retail or something. That would’ve allowed me to bring in more money than I’m making now from my part-time job.

But Mom had other ideas. She told me she’d been saving up all that money specifically for my college fund. She said she was going to feel like she’d failed me if I didn’t go just because of monetary considerations.  

I wanted her to keep some of that money for her retirement, but I decided to go into medicine in the end.

If we’re talking long-term, that should be a better way to go anyway.

By the time my mom retires, I should be making more than enough money to support us both, as well as any other additions to our family.

There’s still a long way to go until I get to that point, though.

For now, I enjoy the single life too much to get into a relationship with some girl. Between medical school and my part-time night job, working security at the mall, I barely have enough time to sleep as it is.

Of course, I’ve had relationships—I’m twenty-six after all. But they never lasted long. Every time I get close to a girl, I always start comparing her to someone from my teenage years, someone I’ll probably never see again in my life.

Nobody has ever made me feel the way she did.

I scoff as I hit the brake at a red light. As if she’ll give me the time of day.

Even if I happen to bump into her again, she’s probably forgotten about me. And if I manage to get her to speak to me . . . well, what then? I still wouldn’t be good enough for her, or her family—not even if I become a successful doctor.

There are always better guys out there for her, guys from wealthy families whose statuses match hers, guys who have never had to struggle for anything in their lives.

I don’t know why I still think about her now, ten years after everything happened. But I guess the first time always leaves the deepest impression.

I’m sure it wasn’t as perfect as my memory makes it seem. Everything’s probably exaggerated in my head. She probably wasn’t as beautiful as I remember, or as funny as I remember, or as smart as I remember.

My phone rings, jolting me back to the present. The ringtone sounds extra loud today as it’s amplified by the sound system in the car.

I press a button on the steering wheel to pick up the call. “Hello.”

“Hey, man, are you ready for Vegas?” Earl asks excitedly from the other end of the line.

“Dude, I was ready yesterday,” I say, matching his excited tone.

To be honest, I don’t really look forward to going back to that city where so many painful things have happened in my past. But this time, I have a big, happy reason to go.

When my mom and I moved to San Francisco ten years ago, I started hanging out with the neighborhood kids, even though many of them were a lot older than me.

Earl was one of those people. Despite his humble beginnings, he’s gone on to become one of the top neurosurgeons in the country. I wanted to grow up to be like him, and now I’m following in his footsteps. He’s one of the handful of people from our old neighborhood who has made it out of poverty.

We still talk on the phone, but it’s been ages since I saw him. He moved to Vegas eight years ago to be with this girl he fell head over heels for, and he’s been living there ever since.

Normally, I wouldn’t be able to go to Vegas because my mom would freak out about it, even if I try to tell her nothing bad will happen.

But I’m making an exception now because there’s no way I’m going to miss out on Earl’s wedding. I’m just going to tell Mom that I have another interview out of town, even though I’ve already received a confirmation about my medical internship.

“What about you? Ready for the wedding?” I ask, keeping my eyes on the long road. I’m really digging the way I don’t need to fumble with my phone or any earphones to talk on the phone.

Earl laughs. “I’ve been with my fiancée for eight years. I don’t think there are any surprise for me to worry about at this point.”

“Well, you never know,” I say. “Johnny Depp and Amber Heard? Lived together for three years, got married, then—boom, separated within a year. Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie? Nine years together, got married, and then they separated two years later.”

“You’re an asshole, you know that?” Earl asks.

I laugh. “I know. Seriously, though, I’m sure you’ll be just fine.”

“I know I will,” Earl says earnestly.

I envy his certainty. I can’t imagine getting myself tied down to a woman for the rest of my life and feeling that sure about it. Maybe it would be different if I were with her, but that’s out of the question.

“How do you know so much about celebrity relationships anyway?” Earl asks.

“Hey, don’t judge, man,” I say. “My mom watches those gossip shows all the time and I can hear the TV from my room. You know how fucking thin the walls are. There was a special on celebrity break-ups last night.”

“Okay, whatever. Let’s save the girl talk for tomorrow. How’s your mom?”

“Oh, you know. Stubborn, as usual. I’ve been telling her to reduce her hours at the diner because she’s always so exhausted when she gets home, but she won’t budge.

“I tell her we could live off her savings for now, and I’d deal with student loan payments when I start working full time. But of course she insists on paying my tuition and working herself to the bone.”

“Of course.” Earl chuckles.

Earl knows what my mom’s like. He used to live a few doors down from us in our grey, grody apartment building, and we used to hang out all the time—that is, until a Vegas girl charmed him and stole him away.

Seriously though, I’m happy for him. I wish I could find someone like that too, because it feels like nobody understands my shit the way Earl used to. Now that he lives in another city, things aren’t exactly the same as they used to be, although he’s still one of the closest friends I’ve ever had.

“Aiden,” he says, “I’ve got some wedding shit to deal with, so I need to go now, but I’m really looking forward to seeing you tomorrow, you beautiful asshole. Say ‘hi’ to your mom for me.”

“Sure thing,” I laugh as I end the call with just another press of a button on the steering wheel.

Cool car. I’m glad Matt’s letting me use it for the weekend.

It’s crazy because this car is more expensive than my medical degree, but he’s got a fleet of cars just like this one, and he happens to like me enough to lend it to me for free.

Matt’s such a chill guy I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t mind a scratch or two. But I was still hugely relieved to find that the kid on the skateboard didn’t cause any damage to the car.

Funny, I can't even afford to rent a shitty beat-up car. But I suppose it pays to have rich friends, even if their spending habits irk me.

As I turn the car onto the highway leading to Sin City, guilt plagues me.

I feel bad about not telling my mom about Earl’s wedding, but I have no choice. I wonder if she’ll understand when I tell her—after I get back from Vegas, of course.

My mom holds on to this superstition that bad things will happen to us if we ever step foot in Vegas again. But that’s irrational, right?

I can’t blame her after what she’s gone through, but that doesn’t mean I have to live by the same absurd rules she does.

So, I’m going back to Vegas for the weekend. I’m sure everything’s going to be just fine.