Page 8 of Reconnected Hearts
I shake my head.
“Nope. Not happening.”
This is the worst-case scenario. But the worst-case scenariocannothappen. I cannot be stuck next to Lucy Marino on a runway, two states south of a job interview that starts in thirteen hours.
CHAPTER5
LUCY
Imust be cursed. It’s the only explanation for this day straight from Hell. My mother would say it’s my penance for not going to church every Sunday, but this is beyond even God himself. This is the work of the devil. Only he would be so cruel as to not only strand me in North Carolina, but also strand me in North Carolina withNoah Laurier. I think I’d rather be stranded with an ax murderer. At least then they might kill me and put me out of my misery.
“Same rules apply,” Noah tells me once the plane has landed and we’re stationary on the runway, waiting for a gate to become available. “We don’t know each other. We don’t say a word to each other. We’re strangers.”
I scoff.
“Right, ’cause that went so well the first time.”
Noah shoots me a glare that he probably believes is intimidating, but it's about as threatening as a kitten nibbling at my finger. An annoyance, certainly, but so weak that I barely even register it. Unfortunately, his boyish good looks haven't changed much in the last few years. It would be a far more satisfying twist of fate if he'd already started balding or if his nose had grown to comical proportions, serving as a physical manifestation of his inner ugliness.
“I mean it, Lucy,” he continues. “This is bad enough without us arguing. Can we please just be amicable, at least until we get off the plane?”
I sigh. I don’t want to let him think he has a decent idea, but he did say “please,” and I’m just impressed he’s learned basic manners. “Fine. We’ll be amicable.”
“Thank you.”
Noah huffs heavily, but I get the feeling it’s not directed at me based on the way he checks his phone and shakes his head at it. He’s reacting strongly to this; there must be a bigger reason as to why this stop-off has upset him.Don’t ask, Lucy.He’s just a stranger—not my problem.
I open my book with every intent to keep reading in silence until this punishment ends. Naturally, this plan becomes more and more daunting with every passing moment because just having him next to me is so utterlyannoying. Every minuscule move he makes my body registers, it’s like I’m tuned into the singular radio frequency that is Noah.
What adult man keeps his hair that long and disheveled? And I doubt he even looked at himself in the mirror before leaving his house. Men like him think they look perfect all the time with minimal effort needed. They think ladies are justwaitingto throw themselves at them. He also must have literallybathedhimself in his cologne this morning. Its strong, musky scent is giving me a migraine.
I pretend to be reading as I discreetly watch him pick up a magazine from the seat pocket. He starts flipping through the pages at a speed that I know he’s not capable of reading at, and Iswear, he’s turning the pages as loudly as possiblejustto get on my nerves.
Going back to my book, I stare at the words on the page, but they’re all blurring together. It’s pointless. I can’t focus long enough to get more than a sentence in before he does something else to irk me.
My last straw is him opening a bag of sickeningly strong-smelling vinegar chips and smacking down on them.
“Will youpleaseshut the hell up?” I snap.
He turns and looks at me, his hand halfway to his mouth with another repulsive chip. He blinks, then his lips curl up in a smirk. He slowly opens his mouth and chews, loud. I glower at him.
“Did you forget to take your antipsychotics today, Lucy?”
“You know what you’re doing!” I growl.
“I didn’t say a word! I didn’t even look at you!”
I narrow my eyes and cross my arms, giving him the best trait I inherited from my mother—my stare-down. “You were...chewing!A-and...flipping!”
He gapes at me, shaking his head. “Yeah, you’ve lost it. You’ve lost your damn mind, Lucy. You are actuallyinsane.”
“Oh, don’t act so innocent,” I snarl back at him. “You know good and well that you were doing it on purpose to annoy me.”
“I promise you that I wasn’t,” he says slowly, like he’s afraid I’ll attack.
Maybe I will.
It depends on how much longer I’m stuck next to him. He’s got about five more seconds. If I’m still forced to look at his stupid face after that, I’ll claw it right off.
