“Not exactly.” He leans over and kisses me, pulling up the emergency brake. “I’m going to kiss you until you can’t breathe, and then I’m going to fuck you in the backseat.”
“This is what you consider a date?”
“I never said this was a date.”
“You said you were taking me out.”
“Out as in outside. Are we not outside?”
As much as I want to punch him in the face right now, I can’t help but laugh. “You are something else. Do you know that? This is probably why you’ve never had a girlfriend.”
“If I had one, she would always drink during Never Have I Ever, because I would make sure that we’d kiss and have sex everywhere.” He caresses my cheek with the back of his hand. “I would never be patient enough to wait for privacy.”
I blush and he kisses me again, moving to my side of the car. Whispering, he slowly unzips my jacket. “Is there anything I can say to make you stay for another week?”
I shake my head.
“Are you sure?”
I suck in a breath and murmur, “Yes,” as he unclips my bra.
“Well in that case—” He unfastens my jeans. “Let’s see if there’s something I can do instead.”
Eleven
I don’t want to leave Washington. Ever.
I want to stay here and have sex with Blake all day, every day, but I know that’s impossible. Unrealistic.
What happened between the two of us over this past week and a half is something I’ll always remember, but something I can’t let last.
The storm is over, and he has a firm to run.
I have a life to rebuild. Sooner rather than later.
Maybe that’s why neither of us has said a word to each other this morning, and the glances we’ve stolen from one another haven’t lasted for more than a second.
I’m not sure how many times I’ve double checked my bag—knowing that I definitely have everything. I’m just stalling because this isn’t as easy as I thought it would be.
Earlier this morning, when we woke up, Blake had left me one last gift on the nightstand. It was a small grey box and inside were two items: A flight ticket to Nashville that was scheduled to leave in four days with the words, “Stay,” written across the top. And a small charm—a small silver plane with the words “You’re in my seat” etched onto its wings.
I’d wanted to take them both, to tell him “okay” to me staying, but I couldn’t do it. Instead, I slipped the charm onto my bracelet and wrote the words, “I can’t” on the flight ticket.
“I’m ready now,” I say when I walk into the living room.
“Okay.” He stands up from the couch and takes my bag from me, leading the way to the garage. He looks over at me once before he pulls off, saying, “I enjoyed every second that you were here.”
“Me, too.”
We don’t talk on the way to the airport. There’s nothing to say.
I look over at him every chance I get, trying to make sure I memorize his every feature, and every time he looks at me I pretend as if I wasn’t staring.
When we make it to the airport, he grabs my bag and opens my door—walking me inside like a complete and total gentleman.
Taking my bag from him, I avoid eye contact. “Thank you so much for letting me stay with you, Blake. I appreciate it.”
“You’re welcome.”
“And the sex was okay.”
He places his fingers underneath my chin and tilts my head up. “Okay?”
“Do I need to define the word for you?”
He slips his arms around my waist and presses his lips against mine. “I’m sure you’ll still be thinking about how ‘okay’ it was weeks from now.”
“Maybe.”
Hugging me a little tighter, he sighs. “What’s the worst that could happen if you stayed with me for four more days?”
I open my mouth to say, “Nothing” but I pause. “Feelings.”
Not seeming to understand the ramifications behind that, he kisses my forehead—whispering, “I wouldn’t mind that.” And then he lets me go.
I turn around and walk away from him, but I stop and look over my shoulder.
He looks absolutely confused—torn, but he’s hiding it behind a smile.
I walk over to him again, wrapping my arms around his neck and kissing him like he’s kissed me so many times before. “Thank you for everything.”
“You’ve already told me that.” He pulls away and threads his fingers through my hair.
“So?”
“So, if you still plan on leaving me, I suggest you do it now because if you don’t, I’ll be dragging you back home within the next twenty seconds.”
“Goodbye, Blake.” I slowly let go of him and head towards the desk, looking back every few seconds—making sure he’s still watching me. Until he isn’t anymore.
For some reason, my chest is tightening, and I can’t help but feel like I’m making a huge mistake.
“Welcome back, Miss Weston,” the desk agent says as she hands me my boarding pass. “Have a safe flight.”
I look over my shoulder, telling myself that if Blake is still there, it must be some type of hopeless romantic sign, but he isn’t. No one is.
I make my way through security without incident. There are no random alarms, no TSA agents emptying and re-emptying my bag, and unfortunately, no one I’m in a rush to get away from this time.
By the time I make it to my gate, almost everyone has boarded.
“Enjoy first class, Miss Weston.” A woman scans my ticket, and I smile.
I’d told Blake that my ticket home was coach-class and that I didn’t need an upgrade, but he’s done it anyway. I want to send him a text, to playfully berate him for going against what I said, but I can’t.
I don’t want him to get the wrong impression.
We’ve already said goodbye.
As I buckle my seatbelt, I look outside my window. I’m halfway expecting Blake to come on board at any second, to say, “I’ve decided I want to fuck you in Nashville, too,” but no one takes the seat next to me.
“Ladies and gentlemen aboard flight number 3718, the main cabin doors will be closing in two minutes.”
I tap my foot in anticipation, still holding on to the same hope.
“The main cabin doors have officially been closed. Please stow away all personal electronic devices until we reach the proper altitude.”
I shut my eyes and lean back in my seat. The second Blake’s face crosses my mind, I know for a fact that I’ve made a big ass mistake.
I could’ve stayed for four more days.
I bypass baggage claim and make my way to the escalators.
As the steps descend, I see David standing in line with the other sign holders. He’s written “Pear Pear” in red marker and drawn what appears to be a tongue and a vagina underneath it.
“Seriously?” I snatch the sign away from him. “Why are we friends?”
“I have no idea.” He laughs and takes my bag. “How were the last few days of your trip? Please withhold all sex stories until I put on my headphones.”