Page 5 of Strings
“True.”
He squeezes my hand and glances down at my fingers. I wonder if the pale pink color I chose suits a Natalia. I used to keep my nails a fire engine red, or sometimes black like my soul, but I’m not that girl anymore. Maybe I shouldn’t paint them at all.
“You have nice hands,” he says as he turns them over and tries to look at them. I squeeze his hand tighter so he can’t see my palm. I don’t want to have to explain, and the truth is, I haven’t come up with a story for my scar. The truth doesn’t fit my new life.
“Whatever.”
“Hasn’t anyone ever told you that? I know a lot about hands and these are good ones.”
The next comment out of his mouth is probably going to be how good they’d look good around his cock.
“You don’t like compliments, do you?” he asks.
I shrug and remember who I’m sitting next to. He has money and manners. His clothes probably cost more than my rent in Detroit. Maybe classy guys from L.A. don’t talk about their dicks all the time. It would be a nice change of pace for me.
“Well, Talia, prepare to be complimented more than your heart can hold. I intend on being the best fake boyfriend you’ve ever had.”
“What did you call me?” I ask angrily, hoping I heard him wrong.
“If you get to call me Bash, then I get to call you Talia.”
“No. I call the shots. You’ll call me Nat or you won’t call me at all.”
He lifts my hand to his lips and lightly kisses my knuckles. “I will do no such thing. But if you want me to call you, then I’ll definitely take your number.” He winks and it takes me aback.
I want to correct him, but he winked and kissed my knuckles like guys do in the movies. No one has ever done that to me before. He thinks I’m sweet. He thinks I’m Natalia Pearson, the nice girl with pink nails from Michigan. Maybe I’m doing better at being someone new than I thought I was.
Maybe Natalia Pearson is the type of girl who gets her knuckles kissed and gets hit on by surgeons in expensive clothes. The smile drains from my face as the familiar feeling of running a scam invades my mind.This is different, I remind myself. I’m helping a stranger in need. I’m not running a con, and I have nothing to gain for once. I’m changing—evolving. I will become Natalia and she’ll be who I’ve always wanted to be. She and I are going to have the perfect life, no matter what I have to do or what I have to hide.
Just when you think you’re in the clear, the clouds come rolling in.
“We don’t have to talk, you know. She can’t hear us from over there, although she looks like she’s going to pop a blood vessel in her neck straining to listen.”
Sebastian leans forward slightly and gets a look at Bella, who hasn’t taken her eyes off of us. “I like talking. It makes these long flights go by faster. I usually don’t have anyone to talk to when I travel. It’s nice.”
“Yeah, well, I really don’t have anything to say and I was hoping to sleep.”
“Do you usually sleep when you travel?”
Do I tell him the truth or lie? Does Nat travel a lot? I decide I don’t know enough to fake it, so I go with the truth. “This is my first plane ride.”
“On this airline?” he asks.
“Ever.”
His eyes bulge and his mouth drops. “Seriously? Why didn’t you say so? Unbuckle your seat belt.”
“What? No.” I point to the little light above my head. “It clearly shows we need to keep them on. The pilot said it was bumpy.”
“What they don’t know won’t hurt them. We’ll be quick about it.” He reaches over and unlatches mine, then his.
“If you think I want to join the mile high club with you because this is my first flight, then you can go fuckyourself.”
He eyes me, astonished. His eyebrows lift in amusement. “Talia, I told you before, I’m a gentleman. I’m trying to give you my seat, not have sex with you. All first-time fliers should be able to see out the window.”
“Oh.” I feel slightly embarrassed. I stand and he lifts the armrest to shift into my seat. “Thank you.”
I buckle my belt quickly once I’m seated and turn to gaze out the window.
