Page 103 of Positively Pricked
Her mouth tightened. "You wanted me fine last night."
"Yeah. And I told you it was a one-time deal."
She was openly pouting now. "But we had such a good time."
"And it's over. So move on." He looked back to his phone. "Or sit with the luggage. Your choice."
"But…" She paused, as if unsure what to say next.
The blond guy, who'd been watching this exchange with obvious disgust, looked to Zane and said, "Hey! I don't need your sloppy seconds."
The brunette turned to glare at him. "I'm not sloppy. I'm tight as a virgin. Ask anyone."
I looked around, longing for a flight attendant with a drink cart. Unfortunately, there were none, which only proved that I'd been right all along.
Private jets sucked.
The brunette's gaze snapped in my direction, "What areyoulooking at?"
"I, uh—"
In a bored tone, Zane said, "Leave her alone."
"Why should I leaveheralone," she demanded. "It was supposed be just the two of us.She'sthe third wheel, not me."
I felt my brow wrinkle in confusion. "What?"
"Oh yeah," she said, giving me a smirk. "You didn't know?"
No. I didn't.In fact, everything about this trip had caught me completely by surprise.
Into my silence she continued, "It wassupposedto be just me and Zane."
Was that true?
I looked to Zane, wondering what he'd say. But he didn't say anything. Instead, he leisurely got to his feet and headed past me, toward the front of the plane.
I didn't even turn to watch him go, but I was pretty sure that if he returned with a drink, I'd be ripping it from his clutches and guzzling it down before he could say, "Welcome to the flight from hell."
The brunette eyed me with clear disdain. "And thenyoushow up." She glanced at the guy sitting next to me, and her mouth twisted into something surprising ugly for someone so beautiful. "Withhim."
I looked to the guy in question. "I'm not with him."
The guy grumbled, "That's for sure."
It was obviously an insult. I asked, "What's that supposed to mean?"
The guy looked to the brunette and announced, "She's sleeping with her roommate's boyfriend."
Oh, for God's sake.Through clenched teeth, I said, "I am not. I don't even like him."
The guy made a sound that I couldn’t quite decipher. A scoff? A snort? What?
I told the guy, "If you have something to say, just say it."
As an answer, he reached into the inside pocket of his suit coat and pulled out a familiar-looking pink card. I snatched it from his fingers and gave it a quick glance.
Immediately, I felt color rise to my cheeks. It was the card that had accompanied the flowers. Apparently, he'd scooped it up from the lobby floor as some sort of secondhand keepsake.
