It annoys me that I was wrong and he did think about that. But I'm not about to admit it. He's been driving me insane the entire time we've been here, and I know for a fact it's at least partially on purpose.
He scrolls through the saved images, occasionally snorting or muttering under his breath. I try to read my book, but Whiskey's commentary keeps interrupting.
"They're tracking his every move," he says. "Oh, here we go. According to some fan who's designated herself the official Valek watcher, they think he's going to a town called Northwyke. Bigger town, but not huge. Should be easy to find him."
"Why?"
"Because he sticks out like a sore thumb. Tall, silver eyes, looks like he stepped out of some vampire romance novel. Plus, these thirsty fans are documenting his every move. We just follow the breadcrumbs of horny posts."
"Charming imagery."
"I'm a poet."
I pinch the bridge of my nose between my thumb and forefinger and let my head fall back against my headrest.
"Oh shit, look at this."
Despite myself, I look. It's fanart of Whiskey and me. Graphic fanart. Extremely graphic fanart that bears an unfortunate resemblance to certain activities from last night. And this morning.
My face heats up like I'm on fucking fire and I grab at the phone. "Turn that off, someone's going to see it," I snap.
"Dude, you can't just take my phone," Whiskey snaps back, wrestling it out of my hands before I can delete the screenshot and holding the phone high out of reach for all to see.
I grab his inner thigh instinctively, barely even aware of what I'm doing in my panic, and dig my nails in. He gets hard immediately, the evidence clear in the bulge in his jeans.
"Fuck," he hisses, shoving his phone into my hands. "Just take it then."
I waste no time deleting the picture and trying my best to ignore the fans now giggling and whispering as they watch us from across the aisle.
"That was a hundred percent on you," Whiskey grumbles.
"You held your phone up!"
"You grabbed it, it was instinct!"
The flight attendant appears with the drink cart and a big smile, asking what we'd like as if she didn't just interrupt a quarrel. Whiskey orders a beer and peanuts. I ask for sparkling water. He rolls his eyes at my choice but doesn't comment.
"So what's our plan when we land?" he asks, lowering his voice.
"Find Valek. Follow him. See what he's really up to."
"That's it? That's your whole plan?"
"What did you expect? A PowerPoint presentation?"
"From you? Actually, yeah." He takes a swig of his beer. "You know," he continues, because he's incapable of silence, "this is kind of nice."
"What?"
"This. Us. Going on an adventure together. It's like a buddy cop movie, only the buddy cops are… well. You know."
I curl my lip at him behind the mask. "I thought I told you to never talk aboutthatever again."
"I'm not talking about that," he says innocently. "I was gonna say the buddy cops are hockey players."
I close my eyes, praying for patience. Or death. Either would be acceptable at this point.
Okay, maybe notdeath, considering we're in an airplane and all I can think about is holding Ivy in my arms again.
