“You look…great.”
He hesitated. Immediately, I started to analyze his tone, inflection, and word choice. Did he really think I looked great or was he merely attempting to fill in the awkward silence? By his ogling eyes, I realized it was the former. At first, his admiring eyes made me feel confident. But, when his gaze lingered a little too long, I was mortified. The air conditioning had kicked in and my ladies were peaked at full attention. In an awkward attempt to be casual, I crossed my arms, tucking my hands into my pits. “Ahem. Thanks.”
Myles knew he was caught. Jerking his head up, our eyes connected once more. “Uh, yeah. So, like I was saying. Your body looks great.”
“Thanks.” The awkwardness returned. “So…did you join?” I asked, with a raised eyebrow, taking him in. Loose-fitting jeans and a white T-shirt weren’t quite gym attire.
“No. No, I was next door at Dean Books picking up a couple summer reads and having a cup of Joe, but nature called and their restroom was out of order. One of the employees let me know there was one here.”
Myles walked with me, and then waited, as I grabbed my bag out of the locker. I was listening to him, but mostly I was taking in his more appealing qualities. There’s something so sexy about the way his five o’clock shadow found a happy medium between clean-cut and rugged masculinity. He’s laid back with the ebony waves of his hair set neatly below the sunglasses perched upon his head. Even beneath his T-shirt, the mold of his chest and shoulders managed to maintain its shape. And though, I’d only seen him a couple of times, I couldn’t fathom ever getting tired of the way his jeans hug in all the right places.
“So, what are you reading now?” he asked, genuinely interested in my response.
“Let’s see, I’m about a quarter of the way through three different books that I’ve started but haven’t finished,” I confessed. “Was about to head over there myself and get a smoothie at the café, though.”
“Well, I know we have plans to meet later to go over the photo layouts, but if you’re not busy now, maybe we can just hang out at the café for a little, while you have your smoothie and I pick up some books. Then, if you’re okay with it, we can go home and clean up, and I’d be happy to make you dinner while we discuss the photo layouts.”
“That all sounds great, but I think I’ll go to my home to clean up,” I teased.
Myles blushed, noticeably embarrassed by the mixed meaning of his words, “Oh, no. No, that’s what I meant.” Stuttering and stammering, “We can each go to our own homes to clean up before dinner.”
I knew exactly what he meant, but it tickled me to see him flustered. Honestly, it felt nice to hear someone use the word “we” again. I didn’t want to get carried away, but it would’ve been easy to slide back into the comfort and security that goes with being a “we.”
He was down an aisle intently sorting through titles, while I ordered my smoothie. The place buzzed with avid readers and the aura of academia. The scent of coffee beans perfumed the air and the clickity-clack of keyboards tapping hummed a melodious tempo. People all around were focused on their thoughts and some literary work of the day, but when Myles headed for our table and smiled at me, we could’ve been anywhere. With him sitting across from me, little else mattered.
“This is the one I was telling you about,” he said as he excitedly took his seat facing me. He quickly filled me in on the synopsis and began referencing other books and why it raised so many new questions.
After a while, he realized that I hadn’t contributed much. Purposefully, he squared his body to mine as if to let me know I had his undivided attention. “But that’s enough about me. What about you? What about those three books you’re reading? What’s been going on with you?”
“Oh, I haven’t had as much time to read as I’d hoped. I’ve just been preparing for the grand opening and cleaning up the house. My closest and oldest friend, Brooke, is coming out on a layover, then I’m going to join her on her trip to New York.”
“Stewardess?”
“Yep. You know for the past few decades they’ve been called flight attendants,” I joked.
“Well, I’m from the old school.” He laughed. “Where’s she coming in from?”
“What age constitutes old school? Does thirty-two qualify?” I asked, wanting to know if barely making it into the thirties makes me an oldie but goodie or just a regular dusty.
“Uh, I’m thirty-six and I qualify, but really it’s a state of mind.”
“I’ll accept that for now, but only because I’m not going to be the one to go off on a tangent,” I ragged on him a bit. “So, getting back to where we were, she still lives in San Diego. After college, she decided to go back home. Nothing like having the beach right outside your window.”
“I know. With this Vegas heat, I wouldn’t mind wading through the surf right now.”
“It’s funny, all my fantasies involve white sand beaches with low-arching palms whispering the breeze of summer romance. And some kind of piña colada or fruity drink.” I looked up just in time to catch the confused look sprawling across his face. “Awkward! I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to go into detail about my fantasies.”
I expected him to say something, but he just smiled knowingly and scooted closer. The heat of his forearm slightly grazed mine, sending hot shivers through my body. Still smiling, he turned to me with a warm whisper, “There’s something about you,” he said with what could’ve easily been misconstrued as dripping lust.
I wanted to say something equally ambiguous and filled with innuendo, but I drew a blank.
Still, he smiled with that sexy grin. “I want to know about you. The real you. Not the you that’s on display, but the version behind that huge brick wall that you’ve built.”
“What makes you think I’ve put up a wall?”
“Your eyes,” he said matter-of-factly.
Before I could deny it, I gave in. It would take more energy to come up with a plausible story. “What did they tell you?”
“That you’ve been hurt.” Even if I wanted to say something, I didn’t think I could have. Myles read me like a book. And he was right. I was open. So much so, that I was afraid to look him in the eye for fear of what else he would find out about me. He knew it, too. Gently, he placed his hand on my mine. “Look, Laila. I just want to know the woman who’s been occupying my thoughts since our paths crossed.” Averting my gaze, I pretended to iron out a few wrinkles on my top. “How about we play a little game to get to know each other. You in?”
It sounded fun enough. Besides, I couldn’t think of a reason not to play. “Uh…sure.”
“Promise. Cross my heart, it’ll be harmless.”
“So what are the rules of this allegedly harmless game you’ve come up with?”
“Okay. You get five questions with no tangent questions to try to get more information, but you must be honest. You can challenge the truthfulness of the answer, but if you choose to do so, you must answer an additional question about yourself. What do you say, fair enough?”
“Go for it. You start.”
“Oh no, ladies first. Laila, my lady, ask away.” He gestured with a wide swing of his hand indicating the open floor.
“Let’s see. What do I want to know? Hmm…” The books around the room gave no clues. Initially, I didn’t want to ask anything too serious or deep, but I didn’t want to waste a question either. “Where’s your favorite place that you’ve visited?”
“Way to play it safe. But I’ll answer it. My favorite place by far would be Victoria Falls in Africa. It’s right on the border of Zambia and Zimbabwe and it is nature at its best. I’m talking panoramic vistas of waterfalls and jungles that span farther than the eye can see. It was both spiritual to the soul and nourishing to the eye. When I got in the water and let it rise around me at the edge of the fall, it was like everything else ceased to be and I was left with a one-on-one between me and God.”
“Wow. I hope you don’t expect me to top that.” I took ano
ther sip from the strawberry banana smoothie to take the edge off.
“No. But I’m not going to beat around the bush like you.” He didn’t hesitate for a second. “Laila,” he paused for effect, “what are you looking for in a man?”
“Well, don’t hold out on my account. Please don’t be shy,” I said sarcastically, and laughed. I hadn’t decided whether to be honest or not, for fear he might be able to discern that he was what I wanted in a man.
“Please tell me you’re not one of those women who has a checklist.”
“No. I don’t have a list.” I lied, making a mental note to shred and burn it. “Honest. I jumped back in feet first and eyes open. This time, I just know what I want. Loyalty and honesty should be a given. And I don’t think a sense of humor is too much to ask. Physical attraction is a non-negotiable. Preferably taller than me. Good hygiene. Self-sufficient and smart with a good job…and knows how to dress.”
“So? You’re still sticking with the story that you don’t have a list, right?”
“Oh, no you don’t. No tangent questions.” I smiled, taking full pleasure in throwing his rules back at him.
“Touché.”
What better way to dodge his sideline questioning, than with a whopper of my own. Without hesitation, I put the ball back in his court. “Myles, why are you single?”
“Now we’re getting somewhere. I see you decided to jump into this game head first.” At first he was playful and enjoying the joke at my expense. Then, his tone changed slightly. A notch higher on the serious meter. “No, but to be honest, I haven’t found anyone worthy. Before you say anything, I don’t mean it in a snobby elitist way. Losing my parents made me very cautious about who I let into my life. There’ve been a lot of real nice girls out there and a few skanks, but no one that I’m willing to let into my close-knit family I’ve built between me and my sister…I don’t know. I suppose there’s someone who I’ll end up with, but I take things real slow.”
I halfway expected him to pussyfoot his way around the answer, but his unfiltered bluntness about his family suddenly made me regret hurling such an invasive question at him. Even my apology felt weak. “You just seem like such a great guy. I figured, either there’s some hidden flaw or you are one of those guys who will never grow up. Some eternal lady’s man. I hadn’t considered a third option.”
“Okay. Let’s not get all serious. This is supposed to be fun.”
“So take your turn already.”
Time flew by. The conversation zigzagged from my love of candy to his obsession with pizza. Myles educated me on the healing powers of watching a Bulls game with a fully loaded thick slice of pizza. His face lit up with every story. I could tell that he was reminiscing about his family. With every mention of his parents, his expressions softened and I could feel myself falling into familiar territory. Everything in me wanted to run, but my feet were planted firmly in their place.
The game turned out to be very informative and pretty fun, until his final question. Asking why someone wasn’t married yet, was a simple enough question. Quite typical really for a single person over the age of thirty. I should have been used to the question, as many times as I’ve been asked. From my parents, to aunts, and clients, I kept my regular flippant answer locked and loaded in my arsenal, “Nope. Not yet.” Inevitably, they’d faithfully instruct me not to worry and assure me that I would find someone. It wasn’t so much the pitying smiles or the whispers. In fact, I never did worry until so many people told me not to. But it was something so innocent and unassuming about the way Myles questioned me. I needed to tell him the truth. Too much time had lapsed since I’d been honest with myself.
“I made it to the church once,” I blurted out. There. It was out on the table. Take it or leave it. And, he took it. Not where I was expecting, but it was in his hands, nevertheless.
“Makes me think God’s on my side.” Winking, he teased as he compassionately rubbed my arm and smiled a sincere grin. “Go on,” he urged me.
At that moment, I hadn’t planned on going any more in depth than simply stating the facts. But, the way his pleading eyes weighed on me, the choice really wasn’t mine. I continued at his request. Myles listened with an earnest ear and a sympathetic heart absent of the judgment I imagined would be there. That smile showed up again after I’d laid out all the major details from Ethan’s infidelity and cowardly dismissal to my broken heart and long-awaited catapult back into dating. Still, after I’d finished talking and unloaded my past on him, he was still beaming. So much so, that my face reddened under his beguiling eye.
“What?” I asked coyly.
“You’re amazing, that’s what.”
“I tell you I’ve been crushed beyond self-recognition and you say I’m amazing. Well, I’m going to have to have my heart demolished a little more often.”
“You’re blushing,” he noted, clearly enjoying my uneasiness. Those eyes of his pierced right through me. “Most people would have foundered after all that you went through, but you’re still here. Stronger. Smarter because of it. And I must say you’re…stunning.”
The edge releasing from my body was tangible. Embarrassment, was one thing, but more than anything, I felt relief. He knew. And still, he sat there smiling in all his splendor. And bonus, there would never be an awkward moment for him to find out. Tormenting images crossed my mind of us at our engagement dinner and someone slips and says, “Myles I hope you’ll make it down the aisle. The last one didn’t even make it to the church.” I shook the thought from my head and comfortably rested my eyes back on him. For a short while, I hesitated. Then, just as comfortably, I leaned over and rested my lips on his.
fourteen
“Then what happened?”
“Geez, Brooke. You always have to get right to the dirty details. Can’t you ask me something normal first, like what we have in common or what did I wear? Seriously, you’re so crass.”
“All right, so what did you wear?”
No matter what, Brooke always liked to get straight to it. Eventually, she’d get to the meat and bones of the story, but not before the juicy details. Probably out of habit. She majored in journalism with a minor in mass communication. If things went according to her plan, she’d be the nationally syndicated news anchor, Brooke Davenport, married to the heir to some throne or hotel fortune. Not only was she the spitting image of Grace Kelly, but she also had secret aspirations to marry into royalty. That was pretty much her in a nutshell, annoyingly gorgeous, nosy, hopeless romantic, thick and thin kind of friend.
Unlucky for her, things tended to go every which way but hers. The nightly news wasn’t in the cards, though she gets to grill hundreds of passengers on every trip while fastening seatbelts, demonstrating how to get seats in the upright position, and weeding out possible terrorists. Still no crown on the horizon, but neither was an end to her search. Just about no one was off limits to Brooke, except for her passengers. The one rule by which she faithfully abided. Surprisingly, she never made her bed where she worked. Aside from the whole news anchor and prince hiccup, she nailed being the best friend and roommate.
“That cute little black jersey tank with the racerback you borrowed when we went to Miami and black capris.”
“I see not much has changed. You’re still in mourning over that fool, wearing black all the time. Should’ve at least worn a little black dress, if you must go all goth…easy to take off.” She laughed it off, but there was no joke behind it. “If this guy is as hot as you say he is, I would be leaving nothing to the imagination.”
“That’s because you’re probably a size negative one and you have gigantic boobs. There’s no need to leave anything to the imagination when it’s all on display, anyway.”
“Ugh, don’t be a hater. I’m just saying you should be trying to reel this one in. These things don’t just happen, you know.”
With her, it was always about fate and destiny, and signs. I gave her the whole rundown on meeting Myles and everything up until my kiss
, as we drove home from the airport. Naturally, she was convinced that Myles and I were meant to be.
“You think it was some random coincidence that your phone numbers were mistaken? What about the bridal salon, your mom meeting him in the post office and hiring him as the wedding photographer, then the gym? Get real. And, that was pure unadulterated chemistry on the side of the house. I’m hot just thinking about it. Ooh…” She swooned
“We were only going over photo layouts.”
“Is that what they’re calling it these days?”
“You’re such a pervert.”
***
A call button dinged and Brooke bee-lined toward it. I could see her in the aisle with her fake smile beaming. From all her stories, I wondered what outrageous request she’d get. I adjusted myself in the seat, trying to get comfortable, but the emergency aisle had the only open seat on the flight. I would’ve hoped for a better seat, but flying standby on her buddy pass, I couldn’t complain. Pretty much the worst seat on the plane. Besides being stuffed in between one person—whose muffin top protruded over the armrest into my seat—and another orchestrating a snoring symphony, my seat didn’t recline. However, the man directly in front of me undergoing a cough attack reclined his seat right into my lap, while his screaming toddler educated the entire plane on the alphabet. All in all, I was a sardine without the ability to recline or claim either armrest.
Needless to say, sleep was out of the question. My only relief was Brooke. Thank God for her. When she wasn’t doing her emergency protocols or drink services, she let me join her in the galley, where she’d give me the rundown on all the crazies aboard. Flights to New York never failed us. So far, a guy had to be cut off from drinking and about three people had to be advised to turn off their iPhones. At least three or four times, she had to explain that it interfered with the plane equipment and transmission to the flight towers. Brooke said it with a smile, but I read right through that façade. If she could, she would slap people and use quite a few choice words while doing it.
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