The plane begins to travel slowly down the runway, and I look between the earphones and armrest. Where do these plug in? They’re high tech, the kind that overconfident YouTubers use. They don’t even have a cord. I look around. Well, this is stupid. How do I plug them in?
“They’re Bluetooth,” Jim interrupts me.
“Oh,” I mutter, feeling stupid. Of course they are. “Right.”
“You haven’t flown first class before?” he asks.
“No. I got an upgrade. Some weirdo threw my bag across the airport when he was drunk. I think the guy at the desk felt sorry for me.” I give him a lopsided smile.
He rolls his lips as if amused and sips his champagne; his eyes linger on my face as if he has something on his mind.
“What?” I ask.
“Perhaps the guy at the desk thought you were gorgeous and upgraded you to try to impress you.”
“I hadn’t thought of that.” I sip my champagne as I try to hide my smile. That’s an odd thing to say. “Is that what you would do?” I ask. “If you were at the desk, would you upgrade women to impress them?”
“Absolutely.”
I smirk.
“Impressing a woman you’re attracted to is crucial,” he continues.
I stare at him as I try to get my brain to keep up with the conversation. Why does that statement sound flirty? “And do tell . . . how would you impress a woman you’re attracted to?” I ask, fascinated.
His eyes hold mine. “Offer her a window seat.”
The air crackles between us, and I bite my lip to hide my goofy smile.
“You’re trying to impress me?” I ask.
He gives me a slow, sexy smile. “How am I doing?”
I smirk, unsure what to say.
“I’m simply saying that you’re attractive, nothing more and nothing less. Don’t read into it. It was a statement, not a question.”
“Oh.” I stare at him, lost for words. What do I even say to that? Statement, not a question . . . huh? Don’t read into it. This guy is weird . . . and utterly gorgeous.
The plane begins to take off with speed, and I hold on to my armrests and scrunch my eyes shut.
“You don’t like takeoffs?” he asks.
“Do I look like I like takeoffs?” I wince as I hang on for dear life.
“I love them,” he replies casually. “I love the feeling of power as it surges forward. That g-force throwback.”
Okay . . . why is everything coming out of his mouth sounding sexual?
God, I need to get laid . . . stat.
I exhale and stare out the window as we go higher and higher. I don’t have the energy for this guy to play cute today. I’m tired, I’m hungover, I look crappy, and my ex is a douche. I want to go to sleep and wake up next year.
I decide I’ll watch a movie. I begin to flick through the choices on the screen in front of me.
He leans over and says, “Great minds think alike. I’m watching a movie too.”
I fake a smile. Just stop being all hot and in my space. You’re probably married to a vegan yoga nut who does meditation and shit.
“Great,” I mutter deadpan. I should have flown coach; at least I wouldn’t have had to inhale the scent of beautiful man for eight long, sexless hours.
I scroll through my screen and then narrow it down to my choices.
How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days.
Pride and Prejudice.
The Heat.
Jumanji . . . well, that has the Rock in it—it has to be good.
Notting Hill.
The Proposal.
50 First Dates.
Bridget Jones’s Diary.
Pretty Woman.
Sleepless in Seattle.
Magic Mike XXL.
I smile at the choices, all of my favorites lined in a row; this flight is going to be a dream. I haven’t seen the sequel to Magic Mike yet, so I might start with that one. I glance over to look at what Jim has picked, and I see the heading come up.
Lincoln.
Ugh . . . a political movie. Who watches that stuff for fun? I should have known he’d be boring.
He reaches up and taps the screen, and I catch sight of his watch. A chunky silver Rolex. Ugh, and he has money too.
Typical.
“What are you going to watch?” he asks.
Oh no . . . I don’t want to appear ditzy. “I’m not sure yet,” I reply. Damn you . . . I want to watch men strip. “What are you watching?” I ask.
“Lincoln. I’ve been meaning to see it for a long time.”
“Sounds boring,” I say.
He smiles at my answer. “I’ll let you know.” He puts his earphones on and begins to watch his movie, and I scroll through my choices again. I really want to watch Magic Mike XXL. Does it matter if he sees? No . . . that’s just embarrassing. It makes me look desperate.