Page 49 of Colliding with Ten

She glanced down at her carry-on, then back at me, lips twitching, as she tried not to laugh. “Fine. If this storm lasts another hour, I might consider breaking the law.”

“Not the law, it’s a rule at best.” I grinned. “I’ll take that as a verbal commitment.”

“I’ll think about it, Monroe.”

“Lennox. Call me Lennox.”

She smiled and leaned back, eyes flicking toward the window again. The terminal light caught the side of her face, and I looked away before she could catch me watching her.

I glanced at my watch. “Well, if you’re not ready for luxury chairs, how about food? I’m starving.”

She shook her head. “I’m fine. You go ahead.”

“Nah. I don’t eat alone when I can help it.” I paused, rubbing my hands together like I was plotting. “You know what I want?”

She gave me a wary look. “Do I want to know?”

“Sushi.”

Her reaction was instant. “Sushi? In an airport? You’re crazy.”

My laugh boomed, drawing a few stares from tired passengers. I lowered my voice to avoid the wrong kind of attention. “What? It’s fish. They fly it in fresh.”

She shook her head. “You’re braver than I thought.”

“You think they’re importing day-old tuna from a gas station?”

She tried not to laugh. “Airport sushi is how people end up on the toilet for a week.”

“Come on. I’ll prove you wrong.”

“Oh no.” She shook her head. “I’m not getting food poisoning because your ego needs validation.”

Every excuse she gave, or joke she made to deflect from accompanying me, made me want to come up with a better reason to convince her otherwise. I wanted her with me.

I smirked. “Then don’t eat. Just watch me risk my life for good nigiri. I saw the place earlier. It has a sushi carousel circling the bar.”

Her laughter slipped out then. “A sushi carousel?”

“Yeah,” I leaned forward, grinning. “The plates are on a conveyor belt.”

She covered her mouth and shook her head. “You sound way too excited about this.”

“I am. I love sushi. Raw fish and soy sauce, sign me up.”

“You forgot regret,” she teased.

I laughed without a care. “You’ve hurt me, Ayla. Where’s your sense of adventure?”

“Far away from refrigerated salmon.”

“See, that’s the problem.” I stretched my legs in a different position. “You’ve got to broaden your horizons.”

She rolled her eyes, smiling despite herself, and pretended to go back to her book, though the corners of her mouth gave her away. I caught her still smiling as she readjusted her leg, fitting her brace on her carry-on.

“You sure you’re good like that?” I asked.

She nodded. “Yeah. Totally fine.”