“Oh, no. I can’t.” He held up his hands in protest.
“I insist. Just not the Pringles.”
“Why is that?” He ticked his head to the side, eyeing her curiously.
“Because you know what they say—‘Once you pop’—and I’ve popped and now cannot stop,” she said. Instantly, she regretted the level of dorkiness infused in her attempts at banter.Here it comes again…the stare. And his departure.
Why? Why couldn’t she react like a normal human being?
To her surprise, however, the man palmed his ridiculously handsome, smiling face as he playfully shook his head. At least her silliness hadn’t caused him to retreat like people usually did whenever she made jokes at the department holiday parties. And summer picnics. And weddings. And bars…
“Then I’ll take these,” he said, snagging the M&M’s. “Thank you.”
“Thankyoufor shopping.” She tipped her head, then shoved her things back in her bag, this time cinching the top to avoid further escape attempts.
His lightheartedness faded away as he checked his watch. “Pretty sure I already know the answer, but was that the bus to Manacapuru?” He nodded in the direction the bus had gone.
“Yup. We both missed it by maybe twenty seconds?” It wasn’t a question, but she hoped her inflection might soften the blow.
“Twenty sec…” His voice trailed off with a heavy sigh. He whipped out a cell phone and began furiously texting. Must be missing some important modeling gig. Though models probably didn’t travel by crusty old bus. Miri took her time wiping off her pants and hands as she watched his frustration. Finally, with a grunt and an exaggerated press of his thumb, he tucked his phone in the front pocket of his charcoal pants and scanned the passersby.
“Excu— I mean, perdona?” He reached his arm out to an older gentleman, who sneered and kept walking. He grumbled something unintelligible under his breath.
Hmm.Maybe he wasn’t Brazilian after all. Or at least not from around here. “It’s ‘com licença,’ ” Miri offered. “They speak Portuguese here.”
“Oh, right. Thanks.”
“Com licença,” he asked another person. “Billetes?”
Close enough.Fortunately for him, the person understood his Portuguese-Spanish mashup and pointed him in thedirection of the ticket office. She thought to warn him that heading to the ticket office would be a waste of time. That the bus they’d missed was the last one to Manacapuru for the night. But it wasn’t any of her business. Maybe he was going somewhere else, Manacapuru merely being a stopover before his final destination.
Ormaybehe’d be so grateful for Miri’s assistance that he’d ask if she wanted to grab a coffee. And coffee would turn into a stroll through downtown. Which would turn into happy hour. And then dinner. And then they’d…
“Thanks again,” the man said with a smile, waving the bag of M&M’s at her as he disappeared inside the airport—snapping her out of her fantasy.
Sigh.
Though the exchange with Mr. M&M’s provided Miri a pleasant escape from her problems, she had important things to deal with, such as changing out of her dirty street-water pants and finding her own alternative transportation to Manacapuru. But she’d consider their encounter a win in Miri’sHow to Interact with a Hottiebook—evenifit meant saying adeus to her M&M’s.
With every ounce of energy left over after her sprint, she lifted herself and her bag from the ground, taking one last glance at Mr. M&M’s heading toward the ticket office and admiring his swagger, and headed in the opposite direction toward the bathrooms. She propped her bag up on the counter, then stared at herself in the mirror, instantly recoiling at her appearance.
Yikes. No wonder she’d left Mr. M&M’s speechless.
Her cheeks were beet red from racing through the airport.Her light brown wavy hair stuck out in complete disorder, except for her bangs, which were matted with sweat against her forehead. Her thick, yellow-framed glasses had smudges of who-knows-what on the lenses. And her clothes? Soiled, sweat-stained, and—she ducked her head to take a whiff—oof. Stinky.
Yeesh. She’d definitely looked better.
Then again…she’d definitely looked worse! Score for Miri! Nothing could beat that time she’d crashed into the janitor’s mop bucket as she ran down the hall, late for her dissertation defense.
She wasn’t sure which would be more damaging to her career: showing up to the team kick-off meeting looking like this or not showing up at all. Maybe being delayed wasn’t such a terrible thing.
With a heavy sigh, she set her glasses on the counter, peeled off her T-shirt, then twisted her hair into a messy ball on top of her head. She turned on the water, splashing it on her face and her armpits, then took a few pumps of soap and cleaned up as best she could.Whelp…this’ll have to do. Get yourself together. You can be a badass like Corrie Mejía. You can do this. Find a ride. Get a good night’s rest, and—
The bathroom door opened and in walked none other than Mr. M&M’s himself. His eyes widened at the sight of her standing in front of the mirror in nothing but her bra and pants.
Miri yelped, then grabbed her dirty shirt from the counter and held it in front of her chest.
“Excusez,” he choked out as he averted his eyes. And as quickly as he’d come in, he departed.
