The Rivals - Vi Keeland

Sophia

“Wait!”

The agent pulled the nylon belt across from one pole to the other and clicked it into place, blocking passage to the gate. She looked up and frowned, finding me barreling toward her with my wheelie bag dragging behind me. I’d run all the way from Terminal A to Terminal C and now huffed like a two-pack-a-day smoker.

“I’m sorry I’m late. But can I please board?”

“Last call was ten minutes ago.”

“My first flight was late, and I had to run all the way from the international terminal. Please, I need to be in New York in the morning, and this is the last flight.”

She didn’t look sympathetic, and I felt desperate.

“Listen,” I said. “My boyfriend dumped me last month. I just flew back from London to start a new job tomorrow morning—a job working for my dad, whom I don’t get along with at all. He thinks I’m not qualified, and he’s probably right, but I really needed to get the hell out of London.” I shook my head. “Please let me get on that flight. I can’t show up late on my first day.”

The woman’s face softened. “I’ve worked my way up to manager in less than two years with this airline, yet every time I see my father, he asks if I’ve met a man yet, not how my career is going. Let me make sure they didn’t close the aircraft door.”

I breathed a sigh of relief as she walked over to the desk and made a call. She came back and unlatched the belt barrier. “Give me your boarding pass.”

“You’re the best! Thank you so much.”

She scanned the e-pass on my phone and handed it back to me with a wink. “Go prove your father wrong.”

I rushed down the jetway and boarded. My seat was 3B, but the overhead compartment was already full. The onboard flight attendant approached, looking very unhappy.

“Do you know if there’s room anywhere else?” I asked.

“Everything is full now. I’ll have to ask them to gate-check it.”

I glanced around. The seated passengers all had eyes on me as if I was personally holding up the plane. Oh. Maybe I am. Sighing, I forced a smile. “That would be great. Thank you.”

The flight attendant took my bag, and I looked at the empty aisle seat. I could’ve sworn I’d booked a window. Double-checking my boarding pass and the seat numbers on the overhead, I leaned down to speak to my seatmate.

“Ummm…excuse me. I think you might be in my seat.”

The man had his face buried in a Wall Street Journal, and he lowered the newspaper. His lips pursed as if he had the right to be annoyed when he was sitting in my seat. It took a few seconds for my eyes to make their way up to the rest of his face. But when I did, my jaw dropped—and the seat thief’s lips curved into a smug grin.

I blinked a few times, hoping maybe I’d seen a mirage.

Nope.

Still there.

Ugh.

I shook my head. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Good to see you, Fifi.”

No. Just no. The last few weeks had been shitty enough. This couldn’t be happening.

Weston Lockwood.

Of all the planes, and all the damn people in the world, how on Earth could I be seated next to him? This had to be some sort of cruel joke.

I looked around for an empty seat. But of course, there were none. The flight attendant who hadn’t been happy to take my bag appeared at my side, looking even more agitated now.

“Is there a problem? We’re waiting for you to take your seat so we can push away from the gate.”

“Yes. I can’t sit here. Is there another seat somewhere?”

She planted her hands on her hips. “It’s the only open seat on the plane. You really need to sit down now, miss.”

“But…”

“I’m going to need to call security if you don’t take your seat.”

I looked down at Weston, and the asshole had the audacity to smile.

“Get up.” I glared at him. “I at least want the window seat I’m supposed to have.”

Weston looked at the flight attendant and flashed a megawatt smile. “She’s had a thing for me since middle school. This is her way of showing it.” He winked as he stood and held out his hand. “Please, take my seat.”

I squinted so hard my eyes were nearly slits. “Just get out of my way.” I tried to skirt around him without making body contact and slid into my window seat. Huffing, I jammed my purse