“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 suddenly 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 full a 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 dick is hard.”
“It is.”
I look down at his lap and hold back a gasp. “You know, for a lawyer, you’re pretty damn dumb 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 f**kable.
“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 really 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 years were pretty good—they were exciting and I really liked him, but after we graduated from college things changed...”
“How so?”
“He became a lot more selfish, and he didn’t do little things for me like he used to. No random dates, no telling me I’m pretty just because, nothing.”
“I paid his way through law school and he was supposed to pay my way through journalism school once he finished. But instead of doing that, he changed his mind and decided that it didn’t make sense for me to go to journalism school...According to him, we needed to focus on building a life together, and he needed to focus on making partner at his firm as quickly as possible so he could make even more money. After that, ‘if I still wanted to go to pointless writing classes’ he said he’d pay for it...My credit is beyond shot right now, so I couldn’t get a loan for school if I wanted to, and—” I stop. Saying these words aloud makes my heart ache.
“I’m sorry...”
Shrugging, I lean back in my chair. “It’s not your fault,” I say. “It’s mine...”
All those years. All. Those. Years.
I was such a fool.
I’d wake up at the crack of dawn to catch a bus downtown, to wait tables at a premier hotel bistro all morning. Then, with back-aches that never seemed to go away, I’d walk eight blocks to a dental office where I filed papers from noon until close. After that—usually around six or seven, I’d take a final bus to a private airport and lug lost luggage across the terminal.
I never complained to Adrian about working those three jobs. I never told him how badly my body ached day after day—partly because I was stupid in love, partly because I knew this was only “temporary.”
I knew the second he graduated from law school, the second he landed a job, that he would return the favor and help me pursue my dreams.
I was such a f**king idiot...
Blake hands me his other gin and tonic, and I happily toss it back.
“I would have turned on my filter if you had mentioned it was such a bad break up...” he says.
“So you do have a filter?”
“Yes.” He pulls the handkerchief from his breast pocket and dabs my eyes with it. “It’s just hard to turn off when I see someone I’m highly attracted to.”
“I’m sure that happens quite often.”