I’m surprised to feel a stab of jealousy at the mention of his ex, at the thought of someone else getting to kiss those lips.
Jesus Christ, I’m losing it. I’ve only just met this guy. Ineverget like this around men. It must be a combination of the stress of flying and the alcohol, not to mention the altitude up here. I need to get a grip.
I tear my gaze from his and force a laugh. “That’s rough. My ex complained I wasn’t pretty enough.” The words tumble out of my mouth and I cringe. Why the hell did I tell him that?
When I look back at him, he’s studying me with a frown. He must be struggling for something to say that doesn’t hurt my feelings.
“Anyway,” I mumble, “tell me about New York. What should I do there?”
He sips his whiskey, listing off some of the tourist spots around the city—Empire State Building, Times Square, Brooklyn Bridge—but then he tells me about some of the less well-known places he prefers, like the bakery that makes the best donuts, and his favorite coffee shop. When he mentions a bookstore called Strand that apparently has eighteen miles of books I nearly swoon into his arms. I think back to the last guy I dated and how lame he thought it was that I spent so much time reading, yet here Luke is, pointing out the best bookstore in the city. I didn’t even ask, but somehow he seems to know to tell me about it, and that, more than anything, makes me revisit the thought of dragging him off to the bathroom and having my way with him.
Well, not me, obviously.Iwould never do anything as outrageous as that. But my new alter ego certainly would.
“And there’s a great ice cream place on Bleecker Street,” Luke says as he finishes his drink. “They won an award for the best mint chocolate chip.”
I wrinkle my nose. I’ve never understood why people like mint as an ice cream flavor.
“I don’t know if it lives up to the hype,” he admits. “I’ve never tried it. To me, the only place mint belongs is in—”
“Toothpaste,” I finish, nodding.
“Yes!” He grins. “And gum.”
“Agreed. It’s fine in gum and toothpaste, but as an ice cream flavor it’s—”
“Gross.”
“Have you ever tried peppermint tea?” I ask, thinking of when I have to make it at work. The smell makes me gag.
“No.” Luke screws up his face. “That sounds disgusting.”
The flight attendant appears with her trolley at that moment. “Can I get you any more drinks?”
“I’ll take another whiskey, please,” I say, before I can wonder whether it’s a good idea. I’m having too much fun to care.
“Sure thing. And for you, sir?”
I can’t help myself. “He’ll take a pot of peppermint tea.” Luke glances at me, mirth flickering in his eyes, and I have to press my lips together to subdue my grin.
“I’ll take awhiskey,” he amends, speaking to the attendant but watching me. “And do you serve ice cream?”
A laugh shoots from my mouth. I try to cover it with a cough but it’s too late. It doesn’t matter—it was worth it to see Luke’s face light up at my reaction.
“Sorry, no…” We both turn to see the flight attendant looking perplexed as she hands over our drinks.
“Too bad.” Luke pays for the whiskey. The attendant moves on with her trolley and he fixes his attention back on me, a wry smile curling his lips. “You’re trouble.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say, giving an innocent shrug. “And you never know, you might have liked it.” My belly flips at his husky laugh, at the way he leans a little bit closer.
Over the next hour Luke and I chat as we sip our drinks, and I marvel at the way it feels almost like we’re old friends. I’ve heard people say they have “chemistry” with someone and thought that was an unusual expression, but for the first time I think I get what they mean. The conversation flows effortlessly, punctuated with laughter, steeped in a sort of kindred familiarity I can’t quite put my finger on. We keep interrupting each other—but in a good way, because we know what the other is going to say.
I think he’s at ease with me too, because he loosens his tie and unbuttons his shirt cuffs, rolling the sleeves up to his elbows. That’s where the wheels fall off because, fuck, he has delicious forearms. Is that a thing? I’ve never noticed forearms on a guy before because I’m not some kind of weird perve, but these are distracting. They’re muscular, with a light dusting of hair and the faintest lines of his veins. I’m all restless with them on display,right there. It also doesn’t help that every time Luke looks at me his eyes are warm and sparkling, and that we’re sitting so close our arms keep brushing. The whole combination makes me feel electric, like a live wire with nowhere for the current to go.
After a while, he excuses himself for the bathroom, much to my relief. I watch him squeeze his way along the aisle up the plane, all long limbs and height, trying not to bump into anyone.
I stand and shuffle out of our aisle, stretching as I step into the little galley area at the back, behind our seats. There’s a small kitchen counter, an exit door and a bathroom. I didn’t even know all this was back here, and I don’t think any of the other passengers do, either. No one has come back to use the bathroom. Even Luke went further up the plane somewhere.
I’m pleased to have a little space to myself, to shake the build-up of energy from my body. By this stage on the last flight I was antsy and desperate for it to be over, but now I’m disappointed at the thought of landing soon. In fact, this flight has been delightful, even with the turbulence earlier. I can’t believe I’m thinking that, but Luke has distracted me from flying. He could probably distract me from anything, which is an evenmoreabsurd thought. The last time I felt this attracted to a guy was… er, never? Perhaps the gods of flying decided to give me a break on this one.
