Chapter 2: Seraphina

“Maybe the man at the counter thought you were beautiful and upgraded your seat to impress you.”

“I never thought about that.” I sip my champagne while trying to hide my smile. That’s a strange thing to say. “Is that what you would do?” I ask. “If you worked at the counter, would you upgrade women to impress them?”

“Absolutely.”

I smirk.

“Impressing a woman you’re attracted to is very important,” he continues.

I stare at him, trying to keep up with the conversation.

Why does that sound like flirting?

“And tell me...” I say. “How would you impress a woman you’re attracted to?”

His eyes stay locked on mine. “I’d offer her a window seat.”

The air between us feels warmed, and I bite my lip to hide my silly smile.

“You’re trying to impress me?” I ask.

A slow, attractive smile spreads across his face. “How am I doing?”

I smirk, not sure how to answer.

“I’m only saying that I think you’re attractive, nothing more and nothing less. Don’t overthink it. It’s a statement, not a question.”

“Oh.” I stare at him, unable to think of a response. What am I supposed to say to that?

A statement, not a question... huh? Don’t overthink it. This man is strange...

And incredibly handsome.

The plane starts gaining speed for takeoff, and I grip the armrests tightly and squeeze my eyes shut.

“You don’t like takeoffs?” he asks.

“Do I look like I like takeoffs?” I wince while holding on tightly.

“I love them,” he replies casually. “I love the feeling of power when the plane surges forward. That push from the g-force.”

Okay... why does everything he says sound sexual?

God, I need to get laid... urgently.

I let out a breath and stare out the window as the plane climbs higher and higher. I don’t have the energy for this man’s charm today. I’m tired, hungover, look awful, and my ex is a complete jerk. I want to sleep and wake up next year.

I decided to watch a movie. I start scrolling through the options on the screen in front of me.

He leans over and says, “Great minds think alike. I’m watching a movie too.”

I force a smile.

Just stop being so attractive and sitting so close to me. You’re probably married to some vegan yoga lover who meditates and does all that stuff.

“Great,” I mutter without expression.

I should have stayed in coach. At least I wouldn’t have spent eight long, sexless hours breathing in the scent of a beautiful man.

I keep scrolling through the movie choices until I narrow them down.

How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days.

Pride and Prejudice.

The Heat.

Jumanji... Well, it has the Rock in it, so it must be good.

Notting Hill.

The Proposal.

50 First Dates.

Bridget Jones’s Diary.

Pretty Woman.

Sleepless in Seattle.

Magic Mike XXL.

I smile at the selection. All my favorites are lined up together. This flight is going to be amazing. I still haven’t watched the sequel to Magic Mike, so maybe I’ll start with that.

I glance over to see what Bash has chosen.

Lincoln.

Ugh... a political movie.

Who watches that for fun?

I should have known he’d be boring.

He reaches up and taps his screen, and I notice his watch.

A large silver Rolex.

Ugh, and he has money too.

Typical.

“What are you going to watch?” he asks.

Oh no... I don’t want to sound silly.

“I’m not sure yet,” I reply.

Damn it... I want to watch men taking their clothes off.

“What are you watching?” I ask.

“Lincoln. I’ve wanted to watch it for a long time.”

“Sounds boring,” I say.

He smiles at my answer.

“I’ll let you know.”

He puts on his headphones and starts his movie while I scroll through the choices again.

I really want to watch Magic Mike XXL.

Does it matter if he notices?

No...

That’s embarrassing.

It makes me look desperate.

Who am I kidding?

I am desperate.

I haven’t seen a dick for over a year.

I select The Proposal.

I’ll replace one fantasy with another.

I’ve always dreamed of having Ryan Reynolds as my personal assistant.

The movie starts, and I smile at the screen.

I love this movie.

No matter how many times I watch it, it always makes me laugh.

Gammy is my favorite character.

“You’re watching a romance?” he asks.

“A rom-com,” I reply.

For goodness' sake, this man is nosy.

He smirks as though he thinks he’s superior.

“More champagne?” the flight attendant asks.

Blue Eyes looks over at me.

“Here’s your chance to order for us.”

I stare at him flatly.

Okay, he’s really starting to annoy me now.

“We’ll have two, please.”

“What do you like about rom-coms?” he asks while keeping his eyes on his screen.

“Men who stay quiet during movies,” I whisper into my champagne glass.

A broad smile spreads across his face.

“What do you like about...” I pause because I have no idea what Lincoln is actually about. “Political movies?” I ask. “That they’re boring as hell?”

“I just enjoy true stories, no matter what the subject is.”

“So do I,” I reply. “That’s why I like romance. Love is real.”

He chuckles into his glass as though he finds that amusing.

I glance at him.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Rom-coms are about as far from real life as possible. I bet you’re also the type who reads trashy romance novels.”

I stare at him blankly.

I think I hate this man.

“I do, actually... and if you really want to know, I’m watching Magic Mike XXL after this so I can watch gorgeous men take their clothes off.”

I sip my champagne irritably.

“And I’m going to enjoy every second of it, no matter how judgmental you are.”

He laughs out loud, and the sound is deep and powerful and does strange things to my stomach.

I put my headphones back on and pretend to focus on my movie.

But I can’t.

I just embarrassed myself completely, and I can feel my face turning red.

I stop talking.

Two hours later, I sat staring out the window.

My movie has ended.

His scent hasn’t.

It surrounds me, tempting me with thoughts I shouldn’t be having.

How can someone smell that good?

Not wanting to seem awkward, I decided to take a nap and sleep through the next few hours.

But first, I need to use the bathroom.

I stand up.

“Excuse me.”

He moves his legs slightly, but not enough for me to get through comfortably, so I have to lean over him.

I stumble and fall forward, placing my hand on his thigh. It feels firm beneath my touch.

“I’m so sorry,” I stammer, embarrassed.

“That’s okay.” He smirks up at me. “More than okay.”

I stare at him.

Huh?

“There’s a method to my madness.”

I frown.

What does that mean?

I move past him and head to the bathroom. Afterward, I walk around a little to stretch my legs while thinking about what he said.

I have no idea.

I’m completely confused.

“What did you mean by that?” I ask when I sit back down.

“Nothing.”

“Did you give me the window seat so I’d have to climb over you?”

He tilts his head.

“No. I gave you the window seat because you wanted it. Having you climb over me was just an extra benefit.”

I stare at him, struggling to respond.

Am I imagining this?

Older wealthy men never talk to me like this.

Ever.

“Are you flirting with me, Bash?” I ask.

A slow, attractive smile appears on his face.

“I don’t know. Am I?”

“I asked first, and don’t answer my question with another question.”

He smirks and turns back toward the television.

“This is probably the point where you start flirting back... Seraphina.”

I feel my cheeks grow warm as I try to hide my foolish smile.

“I don’t flirt. I either want a man or I don’t,” I declare.

“Is that right?” he asks, sounding interested. “And how long does it take you to decide that?”

“Instantly,” I lied.

That’s not true at all, but I’ll pretend.

Acting confident is my special skill.

“Really?” he says softly as the flight attendant walks past.

“Excuse me, could we have two more champagnes, please?”

“Of course, sir.”

His eyes meet mine again.

“Well, tell me. What was your first impression of me?”

I pretend to look around for Stella.

“You might need something stronger than champagne before you hear that, Bash. You’re probably not going to enjoy the answer.”

He laughs out loud, and I find myself smiling as I watch him.

“What’s so funny?” I ask.

“You are.”

“Why am I funny?” I frown.

“This strong sense of being right all the time that you have.”

“Oh, like you don’t have that too... Mr. I’ll Have Two Champagnes.”

Our drinks arrive, and he smiles as he hands mine to me.

His eyes stay on my face while he takes a sip.

“What were you doing in London?”

“Ugh.” I roll my eyes. “I flew there for a friend’s wedding, and honestly, I wish I never went.”

“Why?”

“My ex was there with his new girlfriend, and he was being ridiculously affectionate with her just to annoy me.”

“Which clearly worked,” he says, lifting his glass toward me.

“Hmm.” I sip my drink in disgust. “A little.”

“What did she look like?”

“Long bleached-blonde hair, huge silicone lips, boobs, eyelashes, fake tan, and everything that I’m not.”

“Hmm.” He listens carefully.

“Like Backseat Barbie on crack.”

He chuckles.

“Everyone likes a Backseat Barbie.”

I look at him in disgust.

“This is the part where you’re supposed to tell me that all men hate Backseat Barbies, Bash. Don’t you know anything about polite conversation on a plane?”

“Obviously not.” He frowns thoughtfully. “Why would I do that?”