“Aren’t you being a bit dramatic?”
“No. No I’m not. To them, you’re like the second coming of Jesus Christ. If Jesus Christ had all of that going on,” I say, gesturing to his toned chest and impeccable abs. “Seriously, it’s like they think you walk on water or something.” I roll my eyes and he burst out laughing.
“It’s obvious that you don’t.”
“Oh honey...until last night my only thoughts about you including water was more around the fantasy of maybe drowning you in the Pacific Ocean.” I smile sweetly.
He grins and I can see the mischief stirring in his eyes. “Okay. Fine. We won’t go out in New York then.”
“Settled,” I say, though the word sounds more like a question. As soon as he strikes back, I know exactly why my uncertainty was warranted.
“I’m assuming you have a passport?”
“I don’t need a passport to go to the grocery store.”
“But you’ll need one to get to California. Though, I guess your driver’s license would work just as well.” He says all of this matter-of-factly before walking out of the room, leaving me reeling at the idea of simply getting on a plane for no other reason than the fact that he wants me to.
I almost trip on the sheets clamoring to get out of bed. With my sheet dress wrapped around me, I plod into the living room after him.
“Wait, what do you mean we’re going to California for the rest of the weekend?” I gawk at him and he looks up from his iPad with a confused expression etched into his brow.
“There’s no hidden meaning. It means exactly what it sounds like.”
“We can’t do that?”
“And why not?” He lays the iPad down and turns to look at the bewildered expression on my face with unveiled amusement.
“Because I’m running away from my problems, Beth. Because I had a bad night and I need to fucking erase it. Because you won’t let me to take you out in public here, so I’ll just have to take you out in public somewhere else.”
He rests himself against the sofa and drapes his arm over the back. The casualness, the look in his eyes, the way the sun hits his face, it’s completely derailing my train of thought.
“Why do we need to go all the way to California?”
“We’re trying not to run into pesky school mates, remember?” He smirks, watching me bite my lips as my eyes roam his body. He raises a leg up to the seats, leaving one on the floor and I know he’s teasing me, so I draw the sheet tighter around myself, refusing to be disarmed by his good looks.
“Yes but-”
“You had better not be trying to send me grocery shopping again. It’s not going to happen.”
I pout at him and he smiles, waiting for me to say something. But all words fail me. Seeming pleased and needing to egg me on, he asks, “Any other objections? If California is too basic for you, we could always go to Paris, though we would be in Cali long before Paris… but it’s up to you.”
It’s up to me? What? Travelling to California or Paris on a whim on a Saturday morning is up to me? What?
“California is fine, thank you.” I pout, stomping back to the bedroom.
What the hell have I gotten myself into.
41
It’s always been a dream of mine to travel the world. Of course, never in a million years did I imagine that this is how my first time would wind around happening. But then again, never did I think Maverick would be the one to snatch my virginity from between my thighs. The former sure pales in comparison to the latter.
Despite my initial resistance, and despite the thousandth time of telling him how ridiculous this trip is, I’m secretly excited to be on a plane. I texted my dad on my way to the airport and my mother had called back completely hysterical, worried out of her mind.
Unsurprisingly, dad doesn’t know how to keep a secret. Still, as we board the plane and assume our seats in first class, I can’t help but feel completely overwhelmed by how different everything is.
I’m reassured that I look like a deer staring into oncoming headlights when Maverick leans over and whispers against my ear. “First time flying first class?”
“First time flying.” I squeeze my eyes shut as we taxi down the runway for takeoff.
Without saying a word, he reaches over and takes my hand in his and I suddenly feel safe as the bird lifts us up into the air.
“Thank you,” I whisper without looking at him. He brushes his fingers across my knuckles, sending shock waves through my body.
“So… what are we doing in California?” I ask once my stomach has returned to my body and I’m no longer terrified about falling from the sky like a shot bird.
“Waterpark sounds pretty good. Museums…Universal…Disney? Parasailing? We have options.”
All those options sound amazing. Somewhere deep down, though, there’s a bit of guilt wrestling with me. I should be over the moon. And I am. It’s just that I cannot seem to shake the feeling that I don’t deserve any of this and I hate feeling like a charity case.
“Whatever you’re thinking about could you please stop? I can feel your mood from over here and I’m afraid you’re going to bring the whole plane down.”
“Not the best joke to tell someone on their first flight, Maverick.”
“Hey, it’s open to interpretation. You chose to go dark.” He smirks and I’m about to punch him when the flight attendant pulls up to our cabin.
“Can I get you anything?”
Maverick looks over at me with narrowed eyes then reads off half the menu. If his aim is to prove to me that he’s wealthy, he did that the day he bought a Lamborghini after pretty much wrecking his old car on purpose.
Not long after taking Maverick’s order, the flight attendant returns with our trolley of food. All I can think about is the fact that there is no way we can eat all this.
I watch as Maverick digs into a plate of blueberry pancakes, then pierces a turkey strip with his fork. He chews like he’s just taken a slice out of heaven before turning to me.
“Eat,” he says sternly, picking up my discomfort with the spread.
“I’m not extremely hungry.”
“Extremities are not a requirement. You haven’t eaten since yesterday and we’re going to be up and down the streets of California all day. Don’t you want to have the energy to actually enjoy all this?”
“Did it have to be so much?”
He sets his fork down and turns to look at me in exasperation.
“Okay, Hendrickson. Lay it on me. What’s really going on here?”
Now that he’s called me out, I feel incredibly stupid for being such a sour puss about his gesture. He’s really just trying to have a good time. I know that. But it still doesn’t mean that it isn’t too much. There’s that old saying ‘Money doesn’t buy happiness.” I kinda want to throw that at him. Tell him that he can’t just buy his way out of his problems, he actually has to face them. Throw money at a therapist if he wants. But what happened last night, it doesn’t just go away because he’s boarded a plane. Problem is, looking at him, there isn’t a trace of the broken man left. Maverick pulled out his wallet and he fucking bought happiness.