The driver looks at her like they’ve made a wrong turn. “No one’s here. Did you get the address wrong?”
But when a light comes on inside the plane’s interior and Rafe’s silhouette appears in the open doorway, Dez shoulders her backpack and her duffel and opens the car door.
“Thanks for the ride,” she says.
“Are you sure about this?” the driver asks.
“Nope,” she says. “What are you going to do now?”
“What I was doing before,” he says. “Wander.”
“Good luck,” Dez says.
“And to you,” he calls.
Then his car is backing up, pulling out, and very soon, he’s gone. Dez is alone with Rafe de la Cruz and the crazy decision she’s made.
“Salutations,” Rafe says, ambling down the stairs of the jet. “I was starting to think you had better things to do.”
In place of his leather jacket, he now wears a tightly tailored suit—black, almost seamless wool, with a light gray oxford shirt and a dark gray tie. Dez has never thought of men’s suits as revealing, but this one leaves little to the imagination.
Or rather, it leaves a lot to the imagination.
“You’re trembling,” he says. “Scared of flying?”
“I just need a minute.” Dez puts her things down and takes a breath. She tucks her hair behind her ears, closes her eyes, and checks in with her heart. With her brother.
She wants this. And she isn’t sure.
“Want to flip a coin?” Rafe asks, leaning against the stairway railing.
She glares at him, ready to argue, but then something strange happens.
Out of nowhere, a golden glow suddenly limns his silhouette. It’s different from the light that shines from the plane’s interior. This is like Rafe has a spotlight inside him, shining out. Making him look suddenly, well, the words that come to mind arefine as hell. And he’s not even Dez’s type. Too pretty.
It’s hardly the moment to get thirsty, but Dez cannot help staring. She feels warm inside, as if her heart is expanding. It’s there—the light, the feeling—then it fades.
Then it’s gone.
Thank God.
She points at him, accusing. “What the hell just happened? That light.”
“Did I stumble into some flattering lighting?”
“What did you do?” she demands. “Stopdoing it.”
“I didn’t do anything.Youdid. Don’t tell me it’s your first time breaking?”
“What did you say?”
“Breaking.” Rafe sounds the word out like she’s two. “You’ve never even heard of it, have you? Wow, you are a rube. It happens all the time. At least, to those of us with natural talent.”
“Make it make sense, Rafe,” she says, impatient.
“Think of an act break in a movie. You know the final beat between Acts One and Two, when the world turns on its head?”
“I’m aware of the three-act structure.”
