“Well, Stevie, I would really like if you brought it to me.”
“Well, Evan, I would’ve really liked if you paid attention during my safety demo instead of assuming I wanted your autograph like some little puck bunny.” She condescendingly pats me on the shoulder. “Which I don’t, and I’m not.”
“You sure about that, sweetheart?” My smug smile overtakes my face as I lean forward in my seat, closer to her. “Could be worth a pretty penny for you.”
“Gross.” Her face contorts with disgust. “Thanks for listening,” she says to Maddison before taking off towards the back of the plane.
I can’t help but turn around and watch her in shock. Her round hips sway, taking up more space than the other flight attendants I’ve seen on board, but her little pencil skirt dips in at the waist.
“So, Stevie is a total bitch.”
“No, you’re just a total asshole, and she called you on it,” Maddison laughs. “And Stevie?”
“Yeah, that’s her name. It was on her name tag.”
“You’ve never known a flight attendant’s name before.” His tone is laced with accusation. “But clearly, she could give two shits about you, my friend.”
“At least she’s off the plane next flight.”
“No, she’s not,” Maddison reminds me. “Same flight crew for the whole season. Remember what Scott said?”
Fuck, that’s right. We’ve never had the same girls on board for an entire season.
“I like her already, only because she doesn’t like you. This is going to be fun to watch.”
I turn around to peek into the back of the plane just as Stevie’s gaze finds mine, neither of us backing down or breaking eye contact. Her eyes are probably the most interesting pair I’ve ever seen, and her body is perfectly full, with plenty to grab onto. But unfortunately, her pretty outside that I like is tainted by the attitude I don’t like.
She might need a reminder that she’s working for me, but I’ll make sure she understands. I’m petty that way. I’ll remember that little interaction for as long as she’s on my airplane.
2
STEVIE
“That guy is an ass.”
“Which one?” My new coworker, Indy, cranes her neck to look down the aisle.
“That one, sitting in the exit row.”
“Eli Maddison? I’ve heard he’s like the nicest guy in the NHL.”
“Not that one. The other one. Sitting next to him.”
Though the two men occupying the exit row seem like good friends and probably have a lot in common on the inside, they’re polar opposites on the outside.
Evan Zanders’ hair is black and tightly faded to his scalp, seeming like he can’t go more than seven to ten business days without getting a fresh cut. At the same time, Eli Maddison’s brown mop falls messily over his eyes, and he probably couldn’t tell you the last time he saw his barber.
Evan Zanders’ skin is a flawless golden brown, and Eli Maddison’s is on the paler side, topped with rosy cheeks.
Evan Zanders’ neck drips with a gold chain, his fingers decorated with fashionable gold rings, while Eli Maddison wears only one piece of jewelry. And it’s a ring on his left ring finger.
I’m a single woman. Of course, the first thing I notice is a man’s hands, especially the left one.
One thing they definitely have in common is that they’re both fine as hell, and I could bet good money on the fact they know it.
Indy peers down the aisle again. Thankfully, we’re in the rear of the airplane, and everyone’s backs are to us, so no one can see how obvious she’s being.
“Are you talking about Evan Zanders? Yeah, he’s known for being a dick, but do we care? It’s like God decided to take a little extra time and sprinkle a bit more ‘sexy’ into his genetic makeup.”
“He’s an ass.”
“You’re right,” Indy agrees. “His ass was sculpted by God himself too.”
I can’t help but laugh with my new friend. We met a few weeks ago when we went through job training together, and I don’t know much about her yet, but so far, she seems great. Not to mention gorgeous. She’s tall and slender, her skin sporting a natural sun-kissed glow, with blonde hair running smoothly down her back. Her eyes are a warm brown, and I don’t think she has a stitch of makeup on, simply because she’s stunning without it.
My eyes trail down her uniform, noticing how perfectly smooth it lays on her thin frame. There’s no gaping between the buttons in her white collared shirt, and her pencil skirt shows no creasing the way mine does from everything it’s trying to hold in.