Page 25 of Take 2
“No kidding.” He holds eye contact with me like a dare. Of course, he’s too full of himself to think that means I think he’s an asshole and just don’t like him. Most women probably can’t be friends with him without jumping his bones. I can be the exception to that. It would be good to take him down a peg.
My eyes drop to his hand and follow the circles his finger traces in the condensation on his glass. I cross my legs, imagining that movement taking place—okay, well, this is fine. I am perfectly capable of surviving torturous circumstances. I’m a writer.
“Can I get you anything to eat?”
My attention snaps back to his face. “I’ll nibble on anything.” I close my eyes and will myself not to blush as he stands and goes to get us some food. That only sounded sexual tome,right?
I pinch the bridge of my nose and take out my phone.
Me: I’m screwed.
James: Already? Aren’t you still at the airport?
Me: You’re the worst.
James: That’s why you love me.
He’d enjoy sayingI told you sobut wouldn’t actually judge me if this trip follows his predictions. I, on the other hand, would judge myselfharshly.
When it’s time to board, I put away my stuff and ask if we get Wi-Fi included on the plane. This many hours restrained to a seated position will need to be put to good use.
“Nope.”
“That was a lie.” I swing my bag onto my shoulder.
“Not at all. The plane doesn’t have Wi-Fi. Also, the entire European continent no longer has Wi-Fi.”
“That will make it rather difficult for you to work while you’re there,” I say as we make our way to the gate.
“Not really. The work we’re doing now can mostly be settled in person.”
“What is this ‘in person’ thing you speak of?”
“Oh, you remember human interaction, don’t you?” he asks.
“I don’t think I liked it.”
“It has its perks.”
We get onto the plane, and my eyes go wide. “Oh, this is more than I thought first-class was.” The boarding door is behind our section of the jet, which is wide enough to space out the four seats per row with aisles between each.
“Well, it’s an eleven-hour flight to Paris,” Preston says. His seat is ‘next to’ mine, which doesn’t really feel like we’re traveling together at all.
“I can’t believe my first time in Paris is only for two hours in the airport.”
“We could always extend the trip to include Paris on the way home.”
I glare at him. “I don’t think so.”
“Guess you’ll just have to settle for three weeks in Monaco.”
People with seats in the few rows in front of ours pass between us, and I wiggle myself into a comfy position. A flight attendant offers us champagne, which we both accept.
“Disappointed you won’t get to fall asleep on my shoulder?” Preston asks.
“Not even a little bit.” We both hold our glasses up but don’t reach across the aisle to tap them together. “Are you going to work in flight?” I ask.
“No. Unless you consider watching movies to be work, which it sometimes is.” He scrolls through the movie options on the screen in front of him. “Oh, here’s a good one.”
