Page 49 of The Rules of Playing with Fire

Propped up against the wall where the security check-in line started, Mihir stood with feet crossed at the ankles, his massive arms across a broad, angry chest.

“Really? This is how you choose to leave?” He held up the note I had left for him. “That was very mature.”

I frowned. “What are you doing here?”

“I don’t care that you slipped out of my house and took a cab to get here. But I promised Tara I’d see you to the airport, and I am a man of my word. You should know that about me.”

“Are you done fuming? I left you the note.”

“You want me to thank you for it?”

“Ugh.” I heaved my tote down onto my roller bag. “Alright, I’m sorry I snuck out without telling you. How did you get here before me?”

“I drove fast.” He uncrossed his limbs and ambled toward me. “Do you want to talk about it like an adult?”

I frowned and fumed like a dragon.

“Yeah?” he challenged. “I dare you to contradict that.”

I sighed, silently accepting the immaturity of my behavior.

“Well?” he demanded with an impatient nod of his head.

“We shouldn’t have done it, Mihir. It was a mistake. I should’ve known better—we should’ve known better.”

To my surprise, he took no offense at my words. “What’s got you spooked?”

I merely shook my head in response.

“You don’t need to run away like this. All you need is to tell me we are through. That’s it. Are we through?”

I had no idea how to answer that. And I was beginning to hate his knack of rendering me speechless, powerless, and guileless like this. I frowned once more.

“You told me you aren’t looking for serious, and I respect it. I wanted to see you again because you are fun, and I find you genuinely intelligent. You seem to know a lot about everything under the sun, and I enjoy that.”

“I know nothing about corporate turnarounds and restructuring,” I said matter-of-factly, but it brought a bright smile to his face.

He stepped closer. “You’re unique, you know that?”

“Is that a polite way of saying I’m weird?” I drew my eyes up to his with another genuinely honest question.

He placed a single tap on my head. “No. It’s my way of saying I like you. Now, stop looking at me with those big, curious eyes and batting those long lashes, or I’ll kiss you right here.”

When I gasped in response, his voice turned tender. “Look, I know there is a reason you’re running away from me. I’m not going to push you to tell me about it, nor am I going to push myself into your life. But if you ever want to share, I’ll be here. As a friend, if you need me to be one. And this has nothing to do with the hot sex we had.”

“Shhh, lower your voice,” I whispered. “I don’t want every single person at this terminal in on the fact that we had sex.”

“Hot sex,” he corrected with a smug grin and pulled out his phone from his jeans pocket. “Also, I don’t have your number.”

I rattled off my cell number as his surprisingly nimble fingers entered the digits into his phone.

“I have to go,” I said, looking at the time. “The check-in line’s getting longer.”

“This is DFW. You’ll be inside in no time.”

He was right. I was at my gate in ten minutes. As I looked around, a strange thought hit me. Mihir was like the DFW airport: big, clean, and organized, with no major messes or delays, everything rather simplified. I, on the other hand, was more like LaGuardia. Try as I might, I couldn’t address the clutter, the crowd, and the delays.

RULE #5

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