I scrubbed at my face with the heels of my hands then froze with a wince as I remembered my cheek. It didn’t hurt too much anymore, but I was desperate for my concealer to cover the still green-yellow bruise.
Unbuckling my seatbelt, I leapt from my chair and headed for the tiny bathroom cubicle. Most of the seats I passed had their curtains closed.
But not my surfer.
His curtain was open as he reclined with his overhead light on so he could read—Ozzy Osbourne’s autobiography, judging by the cover—with reading glasses.
I paused for a second to take the whole scene in, but when his eyes met mine, I booked it down the aisle and closed myself in the tiny bathroom.
Like a wuss.
Because I was all talk (or was it thought?) and literally zero follow through.
I took care of business then checked out my concealer in the wavy mirror. After touching up the coverage, I washed my hands and took a few deep breaths.
I should probably have a mantra or something to get through these next two weeks, but I’d never been a woo-woo type of girl. Straight forward, factual, over-achieving type A was more my style.
Shaking my head, I rolled my eyes at my reflection then reached for the door. I was hefting my purse over my shoulder, so I didn’t notice someone was standing right in front of me.
“Ooomph!” I bounced off the person and went back on my back foot. “Sorry, I didn’t—Ack!” My apology ended with a screech as my surfer—sans reading glasses—pushed into the tiny space, making me back up against the sink.
He slammed and locked the door behind himself then turned to me with a wolfish grin. “We should probably hurry. I don’t think we have a lot of time.”
My mind blanked for a second, and then I realized what he was implying.
“Whoa.” I shook my head. Despite my fantasies and earlier drunken thoughts, I wouldn’t ever do that.
He tipped his head. “You okay, baby girl?”
“Look, I don’t know who you think I am, but I’m a good girl. I don’t”—I waved a hand between us—“do this kind of a thing. Ever.”
“Oh.” The sparkle left his eyes, and he looked genuinely bummed out by my refusal.
Was it wrong that I liked that?
Oh, I was clearly screwed up in the head. Thanks so much, Trent.
And Mom.
And Dad.
I could go on, but I didn’t want to get caught in here with him.
The tiny, confined space had me breathing a little funny. Or maybe it was him. Either way, I needed more room to breathe. “I also had a little episode where someone attacked me in a parking lot about a week ago, so this is giving me all sorts of anxiety. Do you mind opening the door, or should I press this little call button here?”
“Yeah. Right.” He shook his head. “Sorry.” He tossed me another searching look then unlocked and opened the bathroom door.
Once he disappeared down the aisle, I closed myself back into the restroom. No way I was going to be seen leaving at the same time. Leaning against the sink for a second, I laughed incredulously.
Did that seriously happen? Did he really think I’d hook up with him because I’d stared at him? Something told me that wasn’t his first attempt at joining the mile high club—just the latest.
But maybe it was his first rejection.
Just when I thought this week couldn’t get any crazier, the universe had to prove me wrong.
Apparently there was always a new low for me. Yay.
Chapter 2
