“Is it really over?”
I don’t hesitate. “Forever.”
“If he happened to call you when we landed, would you answer?”
I shake my head. His mouth is moving closer to mine again.
“What if he left a message saying that he missed you? Would you fly right back?”
“No.” My breathing slows as he places his hand on my thigh, as his mouth nearly brushes against mine.
“What city are you headed to again?”
“Boston.”
“I thought so,” he whispers. “How old are you?”
“Ladies and gentlemen, the pilot has turned on the seatbelt sign.” a voice on the intercom says, immediately breaking us out of our moment.
I lean back in my chair with a racing heart, wondering how the hell this man is having such an effect on me, why the hell I’m liking it. My eyes are facing forward, but I can feel him staring at me, feel him still caressing my thigh.
As good as it feels, I have to tell him to stop.
“I didn’t give you permission to touch me.” I push his hand away and face him.
“Then can I have permission to touch you?”
“No. And if you do it again, it’ll be called molestation. That’s a crime.”
“A relatively low misdemeanor with a very lenient punishment.”
“You sound like a lawyer.”
“I am a lawyer.” His eyes are gleaming. “You didn’t answer my last question.”
“Twenty-seven and still not interested. Do you plan on asking me questions for the entire flight?”
“Will you let me?”
God, his smile is perfect. “No.” I need a distraction. Fast. “Can I please have my iPod back? I need to listen to something less-intrusive right now.”
He looks at me for a long time—looking as if he wants to ask me something else, but he hands me my iPod. “Enjoy your less intrusive music.” He pulls out an e-reader and scrolls across a screen of books.
Sighing, I steal one last glance of him before placing earbuds into my ears. I take my list of resolutions out of my pocket and look over them again.
* * *
My New Year’s Resolutions
Dump Adrian’s ass. For Good.
Stop thinking about Adrian’s ass. For Good.
Start getting massages at least twice a year. If it’s under fifty dollars.
Do something spontaneous and crazy. Just for the hell of it, something that would scare and excite me at the same time.
Have passionate, hot sex with someone who isn’t Adrian. (Okay, me and Adrian never had passionate, hot sex—Why was I with him again? Why was I—STOP IT. Must finish this list.)
Meet someone who wants to treat me all the time and not vice versa.
Write everyday. I’m supposed to be an aspiring journalist, but this list is the first thing I’ve written in months. MONTHS.
Have passionate, hot sex with someone who can give me an ORGASM.
Start working out. Ha! No. Scratch that. I’ll come back to number nine.
And number ten, too.
And I still need a number eleven.
* * *
I look over the list again and again, trying to think of something else to write, but nothing is coming.
Ugh.
“You needed to make a list to dump your boyfriend?” Blake looks over my shoulder.
“What the—” I immediately fold the paper and put it away. “You’re supposed to be reading!”
“I was, but I became intrigued by what you were reading.” He pulls one of the earbuds out of my ear. “I only got to number three, but it looked pretty interesting. Can I see the rest?”
“No. Definitely not.”
“Scared of what I might think?”
“I don’t care what you think. I don’t even know you.”
“You know that I’m attracted to you.” He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. “You know that I think your lips are fuck-able, and you’re about to find out that if we were alone on this plane, I’d be fucking you against this seat until you screamed my name.”
“What!” My jaw drops. “Did you seriously just say what I think you said?”
“Which part?”
“You know what? I’m going to switch seats now.”
“It’s a full flight.” He smiles. “You’re not going anywhere.”
We stare at each other without saying another word, and as much as I want to berate him for saying that ridiculous “fucking you against this seat” comment, I can’t deny that it turned me on. A lot.
“Would you like to ask me questions?” He finally breaks the silence. “Since I’ve asked you so many?”
“Nope.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’m never going to see you again, and once this flight lands, I’m going to be sure to get the hell away from you as fast as I can.”
“Are you wet right now? You keep crossing and uncrossing your legs.”
“WHAT!”
“Is there a problem, ma’am?” A flight attendant appears, clearly more fascinated with Blake than me.
“Yes. There is a problem.” I glare at Blake. “I need to switch seats. Right now.”
“I’m sorry, ma’am.” Her eyes have yet to lose focus on Blake. “This is a full flight. If I could trade seats with you I would, but it’s not allowed. Is that all?”
I roll my eyes. “Yes. That is all.”
She lets her eyes linger on him for a few more seconds before walking away.
“Was that really necessary?” Blake looks offended.
“You asked me if I was wet, so yes, it was completely necessary. You asking me that is the equivalent of me asking you if your cock is hard.”
“It is.”
I look down at his lap and hold back a gasp. “You know, for a lawyer, you’re pretty clueless when it comes to charge-worthy offenses.”
“Asking questions isn’t a crime.”
“Sexual harassment is.”
“It’s not harassment if the victim enjoys it.”
I have nothing to say to that. My panties have been wet since he first touched my bracelet; they were soaked the second he told me my lips were fuck-able.
“Since you’d rather talk about drier things,” he says with a smirk, “why did you and your boyfriend break up?”
“It’s a long story.”
“We have another hour and you’ll never see me again. I’m also a good listener.”
I sigh. It might be good to tell someone else what happened.
My family is “Team Adrian” and they never believe me when I tell them how horrible he is—only David. And I’m pretty sure now that he knows that we’re over, he won’t want to hear too much more about him.
“I’ll tell you,” I say, “but you have to promise not to interject with any more of your…Your comments.”
“I won’t.” He looks sincere.
“Okay. Well, the first couple of years were pretty good. They were exciting and I fell for him, but after we graduated from college, things changed.”