Page 23 of Passenger Princess

"You got me ice cream?" I ask. He nods, but doesn't speak. “Why…why did you do this?” He shrugs, but I don't fill in the awkward silence.

Eventually, he sighs before answering. “You said you like ice cream. You said youmissedice cream.” I stare at him, not believing it, and eventually, he keeps talking. “I didn’t know you had a dairy allergy,” he says, beginning his verbal vomit. “I thought you were just a cliché, watching your calories and wishing you could have dessert, but it didn’t fit into some kind of contrived diet. I judged you, and I was an ass. Now I'm making it right.”

“How were you supposed to know, Jaime?” I ask with a small smile, trying to alleviate the guilt he very clearly feels. “I never told you, never told your firm or anything. I don’t really tell many people, really, because I don’t want to be difficult. It’s not life-threatening or anything, just uncomfortable.”

“If we’re being honest, I’ve judged you on a lot of shit, Ava. Not just the ice cream.”

“That’s not?—”

“We both know it’s true, and it’s fucked. This one? This one I can make amends for. Let me,” he says.

Silence takes over the small kitchen as I look from Jaime to the dozen or so pints of ice cream and boxes of bars, then back at Jaime, trying to piece it together to understand what this all means.

But it’s so obvious.

“Oh, my god,” I say with a realization, leaning against the counter, arms crossed over my chest.

“What?” His face goes slack with panic, then he looks around the living area, suddenly on guard.

“It’s just…you really like me, don’t you?”

I expect an eye roll and an irritated scoff, but I’m surprised when I don’t see it. Instead, another shy smirk comes to his lips, the slight dent of a dimple hitting his cheek.

“You're a pain, you know that?” he murmurs, but it's not a denial.

Progress.

I’ll take it.

My hand moves to his shoulder, and I shift to my tiptoes, pressing my lips to his cheek where his dimple is still. “Thanks, big guy,” I whisper, meaning it. People don’t do this kind of thing for me, and this man being the one to do it feels…special. Jaime let me past his tough guy exterior by doing something as simple as buying me ice cream.

“Anytime, Princess,” he says, shifting away to grab spoons, a light blush on his cheeks.

"Will you stay?" I ask, suddenly nervous. "Taste test with me?" I feel silly asking, but I really, really want him to say yes.

And when he nods, starting to open the containers and meticulously lining them up, I let myself imagine that he does it because he wants to spend time with me, too.

THIRTEEN

JAIME

"Ava, we've gotta go," I shout, knocking on her door.

While I wait in the hall, I remind myself that no matter what she says or does, I need to act professionally. I've come to the realization Ava will do whatever it takes to push my buttons, and I have to stop showing her that it works.

Tonight is dinner at some fancy restaurant with Miss Massachusetts, some press, and Anne.

"Come in!" she shouts.

When we arrived at the hotel two hours ago, I got a key to her room as well as mine, just in case of some kind of emergency, before we each went to our own rooms to unwind and get ready for the night. I use it now to let myself in, the door slamming shut as she steps out of the bathroom.

“So,” she says with a twirl. “How do I look?” She's wearing a slinky cream-colored dress with light pink silky bows tied on her shoulders as straps and high heels with matching pink bows at the back.

Instantly, my mind wonders if I tug on one of those bows, would the top slip down, revealing her full tits?

“You look…” I sigh, trying to wipe my mind of these uncontrollable thoughts and say something appropriate.What the fuck is happening to me?“You look very pretty.”

She pouts. “Pretty?”

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