Me
I don’t really have a choice.
Iris
I swear to God. If he turns into one of those guys that’s a total ass after they feel rejected I will throw hands.
Me
Doubt that will happen.
Iris
I will shut up now. Be safe. Max out his corporate card. And be safe
She’s had my back from the moment I walked through the door, lipstick smeared from my kiss with Liam and mascara running from the subsequent crying session in the cab. I had to tell her it was ridiculous to cut off Jasmine, but the fact she was willing to go to such lengths for me was so incredibly special.
All that and I couldn’t tell her that I missed Liam because it makes me feel pathetic and weak.
He’s just some guy.
I don’t cry over guys. They pay me to be emotionally detached. It’s what I’m good at—walking away and never looking back. And I tried SO hard. I sent a damn email instead of texting him. Okay, so maybe not that hard, but this is uncharted territory for me, and I should be given some grace.
But here I am, vibrating as I sit at the bar nearest our terminal, head on a swivel to see what way he might be coming from, and keep the seat next to me free just in case.
I’ve splurged on a martini and fries. Instead of soothing my nerves, the briny concoction has only served to send me into a spiral. Does Liam hate me for kissing him and then running away? Will he be able to trust me during the rest of the trip, or is what’s between us broken?
If I had just stuck to my own damn protocol, then he and I could’ve at least gotten out of this as friends. He just makes me feel seen, like the parts of me that I doubt are worth showing to the world. I want that for more than just the holidays, and I went too far.
My phone nearly flies out of my hands when someone’s duffle knocks squarely into my shoulder as they run by me.
The screen lights up with a call—a call from him.
Shit shit shit.
How am I supposed to get through our first conversation in nearly a week without any facial cues?
“Uh, Henri. I’m here. I guess that’s a bit vague. I’m by—” he says and relief washes over me like a cold shower in the middle of August. Shocking, yet refreshing. His nerves are palpable. Liam with his emotions out there for me to see, or I guess in this case, hear.
Thank you for not being stoic and broody, I nearly say, but don’t because that makes no sense, and because I also spot him. He’s in a faded, tattered Dulcet Point crewneck and black sweatpants, bulky black headphones over his ears. So instead I settle on, “You’re right in front of me.”
He slows as he searches, nearly getting knocked over by a family of five in a rush to get to their flight.
“Look to your left,” I suggest and he does. I watch as his face mirrors my sense of relief. I feel my mouth split into a smilebefore I can even attempt to suppress it. Because I missed him and he’s here and maybe he missed me too, but that might be a desperate extrapolation. This also might be athank-God-my-five-thousand-dollar-investment-actually-showed-upface.
Neither of us hang up even though there isn’t a good reason to continue the call.
“Get through security okay?” he asks.
“I packed my edibles in my gummy vitamin container. I wasn’t sure it would work, but what fun is life without a risk.”
“Why would you do that? You know it’s legal to buy in Colorado right? Kind of known for it.”
“I’m joking, Liam,” I say. “I wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize this for you.”Not again,I tack on mentally.
“Oh, I should have picked up on that. There was just a champagne tasting at work and I’m a little out of it.”
“Had to get drunk to put up with me?” I tease.
