Page 9 of One Timer With A Wingman

“I hope you’re talking to Sofia,” I tell her.

“Nope, it’s you,” she confirms. “You just gave that boy a challenge.”

I groan. That wasn’t my intention.

“I don’t care. I’m not hooking up with anyone,” I state. “Aaron can think what he wants.”

“Briar, he’s freaking gorgeous. He’s fun. I bet he knows how to deliver multiple orgasms,” Sofia says.

After taking care of business, I go to the sink to wash my hands. The three of us are all washing our hands in a row.

“I’m not a science project. I need you guys to stop focusing on what you heard. I’m happy with my life. I’m not looking for multiple orgasms. I’m looking to finish my degree, head to the Olympics, and go to grad school. I’m almost there,” I say to my friends.

“You can still have fun while you’re at it,” Taylor points out.

Fun does sound nice. It’s the reason I took this trip, but getting caught up with a jock is a dangerous move.

“Do me a favor and drop it,” I say, looking between my two friends.

Sofia sighs but I see in her demeanor that she’s conceded. Taylor, on the other hand, doesn’t look convinced.

We head back out in time to board the plane. My heart rate picks up pace. I hate not knowing what to expect from an experience, and being in the air with no way of escaping does not sound like a joyful day at the park.

I find my seat and pick up my carry-on to put in the overhead bin, but I’m too short to reach. From behind me a guy says, “Here, let me help you with that.” I turn around to see it’s Aaron.

Just great.

“Thank you.”

I take a seat in 5C When Aaron puts his carry-on in the same bin as mine, I begin to worry.

“Sorry, I just need to get by you,” he says, looking down at me.

My heart skips a beat.

“Why?” I ask.

His lip curves into that annoying smile again. “I’m sitting in 5B.”

This can’t be happening. Of all the seats on the plane, Aaron has the seat beside mine.

I move my legs to the side, so he has room to pass. Aaron is not small by any means. He must be six foot three to my five foot three. As he passes, I take in his intoxicating scent. Why does he smell so good?

He takes the seat and exhales then puts his seat belt on. I straighten out, but I feel him watching me. When I side-eye him to check, I see he is watching me.

“I don’t bite.” He smirks.

“Are you sure?” I reply, unable to hide my attitude.

He laughs. “Okay, fine. But it’s not like we don’t know each other, Briar. We have friends in common. We just went out to Fair Shot together,” he reminds of the night my friend group went axe throwing.

“I’m aware. I think we should set boundaries for this trip,” I suggest.

“What kind of boundaries are we talking?” Aaron asks with that same mischievous smile and glint in his eyes. He gives off the vibe he is intrigued by everything coming out of my mouth, which is bad.

The flight attendant’s voice rings through the speaker. I direct my attention to her. She explains how to put on the seat belt. She also explains about some flotation device under my seat and some oxygen that will drop from the ceiling if things go south.

This whole situation puts me more on edge. I begin to sweat.

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