"You want me to?" I asked just to be sure.
He nodded, smiling that huge grin that took up his face while simultaneously making me think of unicorns, before he glanced down to undo his belt. I swear I tried not to look in the general direction of his crotch, but I failed. Miserably. Maybe I should look at someone else’s crotch? You know, to even it out so that I wasn’t just eyeing his.
"I have movies on my laptop," he tried to bribe me, as if that was necessary.
I peeked down the line to see that Gordo was far enough away so that he couldn’t overhear us. Glancing back at the perfect specimen of a man, I made a face. "What movies?" Like that really freaking mattered. I'd probably watchBarneywith him if he wanted.
"You don't have any faith in my taste?" he scoffed.
“Eh.”
"Next!" the TSA employee called out.
I groaned and went on to pass through the screening machine. A few seconds later, the woman waved me forward. Sacha went next. I waited to collect my things and kept an eye on him as he stood on the other side of the metal detector, talking to the employee there before being directed to someone else down the line.
Sacha pulled out two small black bags from his backpack to show the TSA worker. He presented the man a few small boxes with colorful lettering on them and presented a piece of paper. I was putting on my shoes while Sacha nodded at whatever the guy was telling him, stuffing his things one more time into his backpack.
“Ma’am, can you move down?” one of the airport employees asked me as soon as I had all my things together.
I moved out of the way and went to stand off to the side. Sacha walked up to me just a minute or two later, still shuffling things around in his bag when he stopped.
"They find your stash of dildos?" I chuckled.
"Nah, just my anal beads," he laughed, pulling out a box that said something about lancets. When I furrowed my eyebrows in confusion, he shoved the box down his bag again. “They like to check everything sometimes," he explained, but I was still confused.
"Lancets?" I asked him, thinking of what they could be for, and then it hit me. I remembered my aunt Dora used to carry around boxes of lancets in her car in case of some freak emergency that she ran out. "You're diabetic?" The way I asked made it seem like it was some deep, dark secret he was sharing. Then again, I guess I sort of felt like an idiot. We’d been sharing a bus for an entire leg of a tour. How hadn’t I known he had diabetes?
"Yeah." He finished zipping his bag before glancing up. "I never told you?"
Sacha hadn't told me a lot of stuff because we seemed to just joke around the majority of the time. We talked about some things like our families and our likes and dislikes, but he was still a stranger to me in certain ways. That seemed abundantly clear now.
"No." I tried to think if he'd done anything to give it away, but I couldn't. He was picky about what he ate most of the time and he didn’t drink, but that wasn’t unprecedented or unheard of.
He touched my arm to lead me in the direction of our gate. "I always test myself in the back room; that's probably why you haven't seen me check my glucose.”
That wasn’t surprising. He woke up after I did and went to bed after me. "Do you have to take insulin?" I asked because if he did, I'd be the worst friend in the world. How the hell do I miss these things? We'd spent a month together, not counting the week I was being a PMSing bitch and ignored him.
He shook his head. "Nah, I have Type 2. I've had it since I was a kid, so I've learned how to control it without medicine."
I remembered how my aunt would get sick pretty often. She'd have days where she felt like crap, but I knew she had to take insulin. "So…I won't have to stab you with a needle?"
Sacha bumped his shoulder to mine as we kept going to our gate. "Nope. Sorry, Princess."
"Damn it," I sighed in disappointment, earning me a chuckle in response. "You brought enough of everything, though?"
He bumped me again. "I did, don't worry."
“Does it run in your family?"
"Yeah. My grandma, my mom, my oldest sister and I are all diabetic.” He hit my hand with the back of his. "I'm gonna use the bathroom; meet you at the gate?"
"All right." He shot me a little smile before turning to go toward the restroom. I stood there and watched his butt for possibly ten seconds. He was wearing sweat pants—like most of us were in preparation of our two-day travel itinerary—and his just happened to magnify his butt perfectly. Ha-lle-lu-jah.
Stop.Stop it, Gaby.
The clearing of a throat had me turning in a different direction. My brother and Mason were walking toward me, both of them smirking like they knew something I didn't. Damn it.
"What?" I asked after joining the two of them.
