Hey. We're heading to the airport now. Mom's already texting about meeting you. Hope you're ready for the Whitaker family interrogation.
Shortcake
Tyler tries to peek at my screen. "What's she saying? Is it something spicy?"
I angle the phone away. "She's just checking in."
"That smile says otherwise."
I ignore him and type back:
On our way too. And don't worry, I'll charm the pants off your parents. Not literally though. That would be weird.
I stare at my phone, waiting for her response. Three dots appear, disappear, then reappear.
Just don't overdo it. My dad has a BS detector that could put the FBI to shame.
Shortcake
Good thing I'm not BSing. At least not about liking you.
That might be pushing it, but I want to set the tone. This week can't be all awkward avoidance if we're supposed to be dating.
Her response comes quickly.
Smooth. But save some for the actual trip. We have a slight logistical issue though.
Shortcake
What's up?
My parents have first class seats…Dad's back problems. Emily and I are in coach. Where are you sitting?
Shortcake
I glance at Tyler, who's humming along to some Christmas song on the radio. "Do you think the airport will let me change my seat from first to coach?"
"What? Why?"
"Charlie and her sister are in coach. Her parents are in first class."
I look back down at my phone.
I'm in first class. But don't worry, I have a plan.
Bash, no. Whatever you're thinking, no.
Shortcake
Trust me, Shortcake. I'll see you at the airport.
I tuck my phone away. "I'll give my seat to her sister. That way Charlie and I can sit together in coach."
Tyler barks out a laugh. "Man, you have it bad."
"It's called commitment to the role."
"Right. The role." He pulls into the Departures lane at Austin–Bergstrom International Airport "Well, this is where I leave you to your romantic comedy adventure."
