Page 48 of Colliding with Ten

Looking up from her phone again, she followed my gaze. “Looks like you’re right. Might be a long night.”

I leaned back in the chair and stretched my legs out. “There are worse places to be stuck.”

She raised an eyebrow. “You think so?”

“Yeah. Airports aren’t that bad. Oftentimes you’re on your way to a new and exciting adventure.”

She tilted her head, smiling. “That’s true.”

I glanced again at the snow. “Sometimes I like it. No one’s rushing me anywhere. No play clocks or cameras.”

Ayla smiled, tugging her jacket closer. “You mean you don’t have to be Lennox Monroe, quarterback of the Los Angeles Stallions?”

“Exactly.” A grin tugged at my mouth. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I love playing football. I just don’t love all the things that come with it.”

I turned toward her. “But there are perks. You meet cool people and do some fun things.” I gave her a meaningful look. “Football’s why you’re not a stranger to me anymore.”

She smiled, but her fingers fiddled with her scarf, twisting it. Her eyes drifted to the window, anywhere that wasn’t me. “You thought of me as a stranger?”

I shook my head. “Not anymore.”

Her cheeks flushed. She looked away, adjusting her scarf again to hide her face. The move made me smile.

I leaned back again. “And I wouldn’t mind getting to know you better.”

She shot me an amused glance as she shifted in the chair, struggling to prop her leg higher on the carry-on.

“You need help?”

She moved her scarf. “No.”

I gave her a dubious look.

She shot me a mock glare. “You try sitting still with a bum knee in a chair made out of recycled soda cans.”

I grinned. “There’s an easier fix for that.”

“Oh yeah? Enlighten me, Monroe.”

“The VIP lounge.” I leaned in, dropping my tone like I was about to share state secrets. “Leather recliners. Actual food. Free drinks. I could smuggle you in and say you’re my physical therapist.”

She laughed, a sound I’d only heard over the phone until now. Up close, it was even better. It changed her face, her eyes brightening and squinting a little as her head tilted back.

“Your physical therapist with a bum knee? You think anyone’s buying that?”

“Sure, they would. You’ve got the posture,” I gestured toward her straight back. “I’ll even fake a limp if it helps.”

She rolled her eyes, fighting a smile. “Oh, that would help your case.”

“See? You’re coming around.”

“I didn’t say yes.”

“You didn’t say no either.”

She sighed, crossing her arms. “You just prefer the VIP lounge, and now you want to drag me for company.”

I shrugged, smirking. “Perhaps that’s it, or I just think you’d feel more at home there than sitting here acting like that bag is a La-Z-Boy.”