Great. Now I have to sit next to an incredibly hot guy for a five-and-a-half-hour flight. With my luck, he’ll probably want to sleep the whole time instead of professing his undying love.
Across the aisle, my dad looks over at me. He has his laptop out, trying to get some work done while we’re stuck on the tarmac. We both like the aisle seats, so we’re sitting side by side rather than next to each other.
“You okay?” he murmurs, eyeing the guy with a frown.
I appreciate the concern, but I don’t need it.
“I’m fine,” I tell him.
The guy beside me mutters something under his breath. It almost sounds like I’ll say, but that can’t be right.
Turning to look at him, I’m struck by the profile of his face. A strong jaw, sharp cheekbones, and an aquiline nose that’s clearly been broken more than once. He’s clean shaven. Good. It would be a crime to cover up that jawline.
He pulls a book out of his ratty navy-blue backpack. It’s thick, too. A real doorstopper.
I pick up my Kindle and try to focus on my own book. It’s a new release from one of my favorite authors. Everyone says the book is her best yet.
But I can’t focus. I am so fucking aware of the man beside me, the way he trails his finger down the paragraphs, the flick of each page.
I shiver.
“Cold?” His voice is rich and thick. He reaches up and adjusts my air condition vent so it’s not blowing directly on me. I’m treated to another whiff of his cologne, warm honey and cinnamon.
“Thanks.”
“I’m Seb.” He holds his hand out for a shake, and after a moment, I take it. His grip is solid. “What are you reading?”
“Audrey. It’s a romance.”
He waits expectantly. Does he really want me to elaborate?
“She’s left an inheritance by the wacky old lady who lives in her building, and the lady’s grandson is trying to keep all of the money.”
Seb nods. “So of course they fall in love.” His lips twitch in a smile.
I frown. “Yeah.” Is he making fun of me?
“Sounds like a good book,” he says.
“What are you reading?” I ask.
He flips over the cover. It’s a thriller from a best-selling author. The airport newsstand price sticker is still on the cover. He’s about a quarter into the book.
“I like it so far,” he says. “It’s interesting, at least.”
With a hum, I turn back to my book. His eyes stay on my face for another few moments before he, too, turns to his book.
The flight attendant pokes her head into our row.
“Welcome, Mr. Henry, Ms. Turner,” she says. It’s always creepy that they greet us by name. I know our names are on the flight manifest, but it feels invasive. “May I get you anything to drink?”
First class does have some perks. My dad has a bourbon in his hand as he “works.”
“Tito’s and cranberry, please,” I order.
“Of course, ma’am,” the flight attendant says. She can’t be much older than me. Even though I turned twenty-one a few months ago, she doesn’t card me.
“That sounds great. I’ll have one, too,” Seb says.
