by Whitney G.
He raises his eyebrow. “Is that so?”
“Yes. That is very so. That’s why I’m not dressed for the winter.”
“Hmmm.” His lips curve into a smile. “I hope you enjoy Florida whenever you get there.”
“I will. Where are you headed?”
“Washington. This is my final flight for the day.”
“Interesting.” I can’t take my eyes off him.
“Are you traveling to Florida to see your boyfriend?”
“To get away from him.”
He looks confused. “First-time break up?”
“Hundredth. But this time, it’s really over.”
“I hope so,” he says, and I suddenly realize that his lips are a lot closer to mine than they were seconds ago.
I pull away and clear my throat. “What about you? Are you coming back from seeing your girlfriend?”
“I don’t have a girlfriend.”
“Please. I don’t believe that.” I roll my eyes.
“Why not?”
Pick up a fucking mirror... “I just don’t.”
“If I had a girlfriend, I wouldn’t be telling you that you have the most fuck-able lips I’ve ever seen.”
“What?!” I gasp. “What did you just say?”
“Do you want me to say it a little louder?”
“No...But you shouldn’t say things like that to strangers.”
“You’re not a stranger. I’m getting to know you better...” He looks directly into my eyes. “How long were you with your boyfriend?”
“Six years.”
“Is it really over?”
I don’t hesitate. “Forever.”
“If he happened to call you when we landed, would you answer?”
I shake my head. His mouth is moving closer to mine again.
“What if he left a message saying that he missed you? Would you fly right back?”
“No...” My breathing slows as he places his hand on my thigh, as his mouth nearly brushes against mine.
“What city are you headed to again?”
“Boston.”
“I thought so,” he whispers. “How old are you?”
“Ladies and gentlemen, the pilot has turned on the seatbelt sign...” a voice on the intercom says, immediately breaking us out of our moment.
I lean back in my chair with a racing heart, wondering how the hell this man is having such an effect on me, why the hell I’m liking it. My eyes are facing forward, but I can feel him staring at me, feel him still caressing my thigh.
As good as it feels, I have to tell him to stop.
“I didn’t give you permission to touch me.” I push his hand away and face him.
“Then can I have permission to touch you?”
“No. And if you do it again, it’ll be called molestation. That’s a crime.”
“A relatively low misdemeanor with a very lenient punishment.”
“You sound like a lawyer.”
“I am a lawyer.” His eyes are gleaming. “You didn’t answer my last question.”
“Twenty seven and still not interested. Do you plan on asking me questions for the entire flight?”
“Will you let me?”
God, his smile is fucking perfect... “No.” I need a distraction. Fast. “Can I please have my iPod back? I need to listen to something less-intrusive right now.”
He looks at me for a long time—looking as if he wants to ask me something else, but he hands me my iPod. “Enjoy your less intrusive music.” He pulls out an e-reader and scrolls across a screen of books.
Sighing, I steal one last glance of him before placing ear buds into my ears. I take my list of resolutions out of my pocket and look over them again.
My New Year’s Resolutions
Dump Adrian’s ass. For Good.
Stop thinking about Adrian’s ass. For Good.
Start getting massages at least twice a year... If it’s under fifty dollars...
Do something spontaneous and crazy. Just for the hell of it, something that would scare and excite me at the same time...
Have passionate, hot sex with someone who isn’t Adrian. (Okay, me and Adrian never had passionate, hot sex—Why was I with him again? Why was I—STOP IT...Must finish this list...)
Meet someone who wants to treat me all the time and not vice versa...
Write everyday...I’m supposed to be an aspiring journalist, but this list is the first thing I’ve written in months. MONTHS.
Have passionate, hot sex...with someone who can give me an ORGASM...
Start working out...Ha! No. Scratch that...I’ll come back to number nine.
And number ten, too...
And I still need a number eleven ...
I look over the list again and again, trying to think of something else to write, but nothing is coming.
Ugh...
“You needed to make a list to dump your boyfriend?” Blake looks over my shoulder.
“What the—” I immediately fold the paper and put it away. “You’re supposed to be reading!”
“I was, but I became intrigued by what you were reading.” He pulls one of the ear buds out of my ear. “I only got to number three, but it looked pretty interesting. Can I see the rest?”
“No. Definitely not.”
“Scared of what I might think?”
“I don’t care what you think. I don’t even know you.”
“You know that I’m attracted to you.” He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. “You know that I think your lips are fuck-able, and you’re about to find out that if we were alone on this plane, I’d be fucking you against this seat until you screamed my name.”
“What?!” My jaw drops. “Did you seriously just say what I think you said?”
“Which part?”
“You know what? I’m going to switch seats now.”
“It’s a full flight.” He smiles. “You’re not going anywhere.”
We stare at each other without saying another word, and as much as I want to berate him for saying that ridiculous “fucking you against this seat” comment, I can’t deny that it turned me on. A lot.
“Would you like to ask me questions?” He finally breaks the silence. “Since I’ve asked you so many?”
“Nope.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’m never going to see you again, and once this flight lands, I’m going to be sure to get the hell away from you as fast as I can.”
“Are you wet right now? You keep crossing and uncrossing your legs.”
“WHAT?!”
“Is there a problem, ma’am?” A flight attendant suddenly appears, clearly more fascinated with Blake than me.
“Yes. There is a problem.” I glare at Blake. “I need to switch seats. Right now.”
“I’m sorry, ma’am.” Her eyes have yet to lose focus on Blake. “This is a full flight. If I could trade seats with you I would, but it’s not allowed. Is that all?”
I roll my eyes. “Yes. That is all.”
She lets her eyes linger on him for a few more seconds before walking away.
“Was that really necessary?” Blake looks offended.
“You asked me if I was wet, so yes, it was completely necessary. You asking me that is the equivalent of me asking you if your dick is hard.”
“It is.”
I look down at his lap and hold back a gasp. “You know, for a lawyer, you’re pretty damn dumb when it comes to charge-worthy offenses.”
“Asking questions isn’t a crime.”
“Sexual harassment is.”
“It’s not harassment if the victim enjoys it.”
I have nothing to say to that. My panties have been wet since he first touched my bracelet; they were soaked the second he told me my lips were fuck-able.
“Since you’d rather talk about drier things,” he says with a smirk, “why did you and your boyfriend break up?”
“It’s a long story.”
“We have another hour and you
’ll never see me again. I’m also a really good listener.”
I sigh. It might be good to tell someone else what happened.
My family is “Team Adrian” and they never believe me when I tell them how horrible he is—only David. And I’m pretty sure now that he knows that we’re over, he won’t want to hear too much more about him.
“I’ll tell you,” I say, “but you have to promise not to interject with any more of your...Your comments.”
“I won’t.” He looks sincere.
“Okay, well...The first couple years were pretty good—they were exciting and I really liked him, but after we graduated from college, things changed...”
“How so?”
“He became a lot more selfish, and he didn’t do little things for me like he used to. No random dates, no telling me I’m pretty just because, nothing.”
“I paid his way through law school and he was supposed to pay my way through journalism school once he finished. But instead of doing that, he changed his mind and decided that it didn’t make sense for me to go to journalism school...According to him, we needed to focus on building a life together, and he needed to focus on making partner at his firm as quickly as possible so he could make even more money. After that, ‘if I still wanted to go to pointless writing classes’ he said he’d pay for it...My credit is beyond shot right now, so I couldn’t get a loan for school if I wanted to, and—” I stop. Saying these words aloud makes my heart ache.
“I’m sorry...”
Shrugging, I lean back in my chair. “It’s not your fault,” I say. “It’s mine...”
All those years. All. Those. Years.
I was such a fool.
I’d wake up at the crack of dawn to catch a bus downtown, to wait tables at a premier hotel bistro all morning. Then, with backaches that never seemed to go away, I’d walk eight blocks to a dental office where I filed papers from noon until close. After that—usually around six or seven, I’d take a final bus to a private airport and lug lost luggage across the terminal.
I never complained to Adrian about working those three jobs. I never told him how badly my body ached day after day—partly because I was stupid in love, partly because I knew this was only “temporary.”
I knew the second he graduated from law school, the second he landed a job, that he would return the favor and help me pursue my dreams.
I was such a fucking idiot...
Blake hands me his other gin and tonic, and I happily toss it back.
“I would have turned on my filter if you had mentioned it was such a bad break up...” he says.
“So you do have a filter?”
“Yes.” He pulls the handkerchief from his breast pocket and dabs my eyes with it. “It’s just hard to turn off when I see someone I’m highly attracted to.”
“I’m sure that happens quite often.”
“This is the first time in years.”
I blush and look away from him, refusing to let myself believe that over the last twenty minutes he’s made my body react so easily, that he’s had this much of an effect on me at all; I’ve never felt this type of heated attraction with Adrian. Ever.
Now, I honestly want him to get my attention again, to strike up another conversation, but he doesn’t.
For the rest of the flight, he leaves me alone.
Chapter 3
“Ma’am? Ma’am?” A flight attendant is tapping me on my shoulder, shaking me out of my sleep. “We need to clear the plane for cleaning.”
I sit up, realizing that the plane has long landed and I’m the last one on board.
Unbuckling my seatbelt, I notice a small piece of paper on my thigh. I flip it over and read the small scribbled note:
It was a pleasure meeting you, Paris. Have a safe flight to Boston.
—Blake
I’m not sure why I feel upset that he didn’t say goodbye (or wake me up), but I quickly brush away the thought. I have an hour to get to my next gate and I’m determined to be one of the first to board so I can finish my nap.
As I head through the connecting tunnel, I take out my phone and see that there are new voicemails: Five from my mother, two from my sister, and one from Adrian.
I listen to his first: “Seriously, Paris? Are you really that fucking immature to where you can’t say no to my face? You needed to go across the country? I told you I was sorry about the grad school thing months ago and you’re still not over it? Is that what this is about? If it is, that’s fucking bullshit. You and I belong together and you know it. This is just another silly misunderstanding and I would really appreciate it if you came back. Call me when you land so I can fly you home and we can talk...Remember that the ring is two carats. I spent a lot of money on it, so I think you should be more grateful...Talk to you soon.”
Typical Adrian.
No “I’ll do whatever it takes to make things right between us,” no “I love you” at the end.
Nothing.
I don’t bother listening to the other voicemails. I want to wait until I have some alcohol on standby. Until I can comfortably curse aloud and yell at anyone who dares to tell me that dumping Adrian is a bad move.
Too lazy to pull out my ticket, I look up at the wall of screens ahead and look for my gate.
Dallas, Orlando, Boston...Gate F...Delayed? Great...
I squint my eyes so I can better see the number next to the gate, and a voice comes over the speakers.
“Ladies and gentlemen of Reagan International Airport, due to warnings from the National Weather Advisory Board regarding an incoming snowstorm, all of tonight’s flights have been indefinitely grounded. Please check with your airline’s respective desk agents for updates regarding rescheduling and for hotel accommodations, if you choose to leave the airport. We sincerely apologize for any inconvenience, but please know that the safety of our passengers is our first and utmost concern.”
“What?!” “Are they serious?” “Get the fuck out of here!” “I need to get out of here tonight!”
Angry voices are everywhere, and suddenly everyone is pulling out their phones and relaying the bad news.
Annoyed, I head to the nearest desk agent line and return my mother’s call.
“Paris!” She picks up on the first ring. “What the hell is going on with you?”
“What are you talking about?”
“You know exactly what I’m talking about!” She clucks her teeth. “Adrian’s been telling us how you threw him hints about marriage for a while and he was just waiting to buy the perfect ring. You broke his heart today by pulling what you did. Have you even called him? He looked so broken when David told us where you’d gone, when he said you knew all about the engagement party and chose not to show up. David even cried as he told us the story...”
I remind myself to punch David in the face the next time I see him. “I’ll call Adrian later. I don’t feel like talking to him right now.”
“Why are you acting this way, Paris? Adrian is a great catch! He’s a lawyer now! I’m sure he’ll take great care of you, and he loves you!”
Holding back sighs, I try not to groan as she continues to list all the things that are not Adrian: Caring, considerate, and generous.
Unbeknownst to her, Adrian only cares about himself and the real reason he wanted to propose to me (in front of all his colleagues, mind you) was because it’ll move him up in the rankings at his firm for partner. I’d overheard him talking to one of his associates weeks after he landed the job, saying he’d do whatever it took to make partner in five years: “Even if it means I have to marry Paris earlier than I want to...Even if I’m not ready to commit to her for life.”
As far as being considerate? That’s damn near laughable, along with the word “generous.”
Just as she’s in the middle of telling me how Adrian understands me like no one else can, the desk agent beckons for me to approach the counter.
“Hold on, mom.” I say as I step closer. “I need to ask when my flight to Bos
ton will be rescheduled.” I hold the phone against my chest and smile at the agent. “Do you have any idea what time the flight will be rescheduled? Will it definitely be for tomorrow?”
“No clue. Would you like a discount voucher to the Marriott across the street? It’s ten percent off and a shuttle can take you there and back.”
“No, thanks.”
“Okay.” She shrugs. “Next!”
“I wasn’t finished.” I shake my head. “I’m not trying to be a pain in the ass, but I’m sure this type of thing happens pretty often here so...When can I expect the flight to be rescheduled?”
“Your guess is as good as mine, ma’am.” Her voice is flat. “All I know is that all flights are grounded and you’re currently holding up my line. Maybe tomorrow? Maybe next week? They usually call and let you know.”
“How can there be a snowstorm if there’s no snow falling?” I point at the window behind her. “And you all had to know that this storm was coming before today! Are there no weather channels in this part of the country? Do you not have cable?”
“Next!” She motions for me to get out of the way.
“No, no, no. Wait.” I sigh. “I’ll take the hotel voucher.”
She happily rips a sheet off a pad and hands it to me. “Happy New Year’s. Next!”
I move to the other side of the counter and pull my laptop from my bag.
“Are you still there, mom?” I hold the phone up to my ear again.
“Oh, I’m here alright. Where are you, if you’re not in Boston right now?”“
“Washington DC. There’s a storm—supposedly, so they’ve grounded everything.”
“Are you going to sleep in the airport? Did I tell you I saw a story about a nest of roaches in a terminal last week?”
“Mom...”
“Actually, you deserve to be crawled on a few times after the way you’ve handled this whole Adrian thing.” She changes her tone. “Do you need me to cover your hotel stay for tonight? David said he wired you money, but it won’t be in your account until tomorrow.”
“You’d do that for me?”
“Of course.” There’s sympathy in her voice. “Go ahead and pre-pay for it online. I have my card ready.”
I pull up the Marriott’s website and type in the dates. The second I click “reserve,” the words “SOLD OUT” appear on the screen.
