Page 35 of Passenger Princess

“That should be good,” she says, then reaches for my phone as I continue to take shots. She’s smiling, like this is some joke she’s in on, andfor some reason, that last photo—her hand out, her smile wide—is my favorite of them all. She grabs it, instantly finding my photos and scrolling through them. “You’re not bad at this, big guy,” she says with a smile, looking up at me. “We’ll make a social media boyfriend of you yet.”

“I’m not?—”

“Trust me, I know. You can barely tolerate me,” she says with a wink, tapping a few of the photos and then opening a new message to send them to herself.

“I just meant I don't even have social media,” I explain, and she smiles once more before handing me my phone back and opening her mouth. But she doesn’t get the chance to say whatever quip she’s brewing up because someone is calling out Ava’s name.

“You two want a picture?” Miss Maine says, and I shake my head as Ava nods.

“Yes! I’d love that, thank you so much!” She hands her phone to the woman, then grabs my hand, tugging it. I don't let myself think about how well her small hands fit so well in my larger ones.

“I’m just the bodyguard,” I say low. “You don’t need photos with me.”

“You’re on this adventure with me whether you like it or not, Jaime,” she says with a smile as she leads me a few feet back to where she was standing before then turning to look at Miss Maine, who already has Ava’s phone lifted.

“Smile, Jaime. You’re already coming along for the ride. Might as well enjoy it while you’re there.”

I sigh as Miss Maine takes a few photos before forcing myself to smile for the last few, feeling uncomfortable. But when Ava gets her phone back and swipes through them, her excitement at the shots makes any hint of discomfort worth it.

While Ava does a few interviews up at the top of the mountain, I snap a few photos of the scenery, sending them to Riggins Greene from Atlas Oaks, knowing Maine is one of his favorite places. I have to admit, now I see why. When we all make our way back down, Avadoesn’t veer off trail, making the hike back down much less heart attack-inducing.

It isn’t until long after we had a casual dinner with the group and we’re back at the hotel that I get a text from a number I don’t have saved, but I’ve sent photos to.

Night, big guy,the text reads, with a photo of the two of us attached.

For some reason I can't explain, I save the shot and apply it to her new contact.

It’s barely seven.

Unfortunately, I have this crazy, protective, boring bodyguard who would never let me do anything fun, so it’s an early night for me.

We have to be up early.

I know. I’m just fucking with you. I’m tired from the hike anyway. Just going to listen to a book and play my silly little game.

The fairy one?

Faerie, but yeah.

I wait long moments before I type out my last text, then delete it, then type it again, each time telling myself it’s a dumb idea.

And then I send it.

To make a pink flower, you have to plant a white one, then leave a space, then a red one.

What?

I don’t answer.

Jaime, did you look up how to play my game?

Oh, my god. You did. I tried it, and it worked. I can’t believe it.

I can almost picture her face, the smile there, the excitement, but I still don’t respond, setting my phone to Do Not Disturb before setting it on the nightstand and getting ready for bed.

In the morning, when my alarm goes off for my workout before we have to get on the road, I see it.

You so like me, Jaime Wilde.

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