Page 5 of Until Hanna

“Love you!” I hear shouted from all of them in unison, then April shouts, “Get that dick, bitch!”

Laughing, I shout back, “Love you!” and shut my computer before I slide off the bed. Going to the door, I check the peephole before I open it up and take my food from the girl delivering it. When I carry it to my bed, I sit criss-cross style in the middle and dig into my food while continuing to ponder what I should do.

Six months ago, I was dating a pilot from another airline and got the wake up call of my life when his wife showed up at the restaurant where we were at on a date. Not only had he been cheating on her with me, but he was also dating three other women and had gotten one of them pregnant.

Although things between him and me were still pretty new we were exclusive, or so I thought, and I truly believed the relationship was going somewhere.

I was wrong, so very wrong, and that situation made me realize how desperate I had gotten. I missed or avoided seeing every red flag, because I wanted to believe he might be the one. After that, I vowed to stay single for a year to get my head on straight.

A few hours later I glance at Walker’s number still lying on the stark white duvet after I’ve showered and gotten dressed in my swimsuit. Maybe April is right. Maybe a vacation fling is just what I need to get back out there without diving headfirst into dating and another relationship that will likely lead nowhere.

Taking a seat on the bed, I grab my cell and his number, and with my stomach in knots, I type it into my phone with a quick text.

Me: Hey, it’s Hanna. You gave me your number.

I press Send before I can talk myself out of it, then wonder if I should have been more specific. Who knows how many women he gives his number to on a daily basis.

Me: I’m the air hostess.

I press Send, then groan.

Me: So, to clarify, you gave me your number when we landed in Ibiza.

I toss my phone toward the end of the bed, out of reach after sending that text so I can’t send any more messages. I’m sure he’s going to think I’m some weirdo desperate woman after I sent three messages in a sixty second timespan.

Getting off the bed, I put on my cover-up, then gather my beach bag and phone before I leave my room.

It takes me about ten minutes to get down to the beach from the hotel. Once I’m there, I find the prime spot I had yesterday is gone so I continue down the beach. It takes me another five minutes to find an empty chair, and after placing my towel on the back, I sit on the edge and take out my phone.

My stomach is a mess as I slide my finger across the screen, but as soon as I see the four texts waiting for me, I bite my bottom lip to keep from smiling.

Walker: Hanna, pretty name.

Walker: So it’s not flight attendant?

Walker: I don’t give out my cell, so no need to clarify.

Walker: Where are you?

Letting my lip go, I quickly type.

Me: I’m staying in Ibiza for two nights before I head back to London.

I press Send and jump when my phone starts to ring a moment later. Glancing around in a panic, I wonder what I should do. Texting seemed so inconsequential compared to a phone call where I’ll have to hear the sound of his voice.

When the call cuts off, my muscles relax, then tighten again when a message pops up.

Walker: Answer my call LOL

The phone starts to ring again, and I squeeze my eyes closed as I put it to my ear. “Uh… hello.”

God, I’m an idiot.

“Hey.” His voice is deep and warm and filled with humor.

“Hey.”

“You’re in Ibiza?”

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