Page 4 of Yours to Ho Ho Hold
I try to grab it again, but he keeps blocking me with his ninja reflexes.
“Is there a problem over here?”
I look up to find the flight attendant from before standing over us, and force a smile around my teeth. “No. Everything is just peachy.”
He bites his lip in a poor attempt to hide his smirk and says, “Actually, I’m getting a little parched. Do you think you could grab me a Coke? Extra ice, please.” He winks, and she’s putty in his hands, disappearing to the back of the cabin. I try to grab the book one more time, but it’s too late. He’s already reading it.
And then I remember the part where I left off … Fucking fantastic. This day keeps getting better and better.
His eyes go wide, and he shoots me a knowing smile. “I fucking knew it.” He laughs as he licks a finger and turns the page. “I know the look of sexual frustration when I see it.
“So, tell me, Cujo, were you picturing me when you read this scene? Because I have to say, he may be a dreamboat of a man written by a woman … but I’m prettywell-readmyself.”
“Stop. Calling. Me. Cujo,” I say as I grab for the book. Yet again, unsuccessful as he moves it out of the way.
“Then why don’t you tell me what youdowant me to call you?” He pauses for a moment, laying the book delicately across his lap, then holds out his hand. “Look, why don’t we start over? I’m Drew, but if you can’t remember, you can just call me Santa. I answer to both.”
I roll my eyes and blow a strand of hair out of my face, crossing my arms rather than shaking his hand. “Trust me, I won’t be calling you Santa, but I’m sure steward-tits back there would love to indulge all your little freak show fantasies.”
“Says the woman reading Santa-smut,” he whispers, sending a chill up my spine and straight back down to my poor, neglected vagina. I hate to admit it, but his theory isn’t too far off … I’ve got sexual tension pent-up on top of regular tension from losing my job today. It’s a whirlwind of mixed emotions, and I’m sticking with anger because it’s what feels the most natural. But give me another couple of hours and who knows what I’m capable of. I am nothing if not a hot mess at the moment and the longer I sit here fighting with him, the more I’m starting to wonder if there’s a hidden camera somewhere. Surely this is all a joke?
I crane my neck to look around just as the flight attendant appears. She hands him his soda with extra ice and even sneaks him a few bags of cookies with a wink.
“Hey, why does he get a snack? Some of us haven’t eaten since breakfast,” the guy in front of us protests.
“We’ll be back with refreshments shortly,” the flight attendant says in a fake sweet voice.
“He’s not really Santa Claus, you know. I’ve been traveling all day and haven’t had time to—”
“I got you, dude. Merry Christmas.” Drew passes him a bag of cookies over the seat, and the man immediately tears into it and starts eating.
He opens the second bag and holds it out to me. “Cookie?”
I shake my head. “You’ve got to be kidding me. Maybe I should start wearing a slutty Santa suit in public, so I can get special treatment?”
He scratches his chin as his eyes scan me. “I think you’d make a bigger impact if you went as a slutty elf or Mrs. Claus. But don’t let me stop you from letting your freak flag fly.”
This guy is insufferable and impossibly frustrating.
“Your nose does this really cute thing when you’re angry.” He flairs his own nose to mimic it.
“You don’t even know me, much less the faces I make when I’m angry. Hell, I’ve been angry since you met me. So, technically, every face I make is an angry face.”
“If that’s what you want me to believe, sure.” He picks my book up again and pretends to read.
“You’ve made your point, Ron Jeremy. Can I have my book back now?”
This earns me an impressed laugh, and when he smiles at me like that, it almost touches a wound I didn’t realize existed, but I shut it down before it gets that far.
“I have an idea. Why don’t we play a little game of trivia. Three questions each. If you win, I’ll give you the book.”
“And what do you get if you win?’
He smiles. “You have to go on a date with me when we land.”
“This flight has a connection. You don’t even know where I’m flying to.”
He holds up my boarding pass, which I was using as a bookmark. “Looks like we’re both headed to sunny Florida for Christmas. How convenient is that?
