I stare at him flatly. Alright, he’s beginning to piss me off now. “We’ll have two please.”
“What do you like about rom-coms?” he asks as he keeps his eyes on the screen in front of him.
“Men who don’t talk during movies.” I whisper into my champagne glass.
He smiles broadly to himself.
“what do you like about...” I pause because I don’t even know what Lincoln is about.
“Political films,” I ask. “The fact that they’re boring as hell?”
“I just like true stories, regardless of what they are.”
“So do I,” I reply. “That’s why I like romance. Love is true.”
He chuckles into his glass, as if amused.
I glance over at him. “What does that mean?”
“Rom-coms are as far form reality as you can get. I bet you’re the type who reads trashy romance novels too.”
I stare at him flatly. I think I hate this man. “I am actually...and if you must know, I’m watching Magic Mike XXL after this so I can watch gorgeous men take their clothes off.” I sip my champagne in annoyance. “And I’ll smile through the whole damn thing, regardless of your snooty judgement.”
He laughs out loud, and it’s deep and strong and it does things to my stomach.
I put my headphones back on and pretend to focus on my screen. I can’t, though, because I just totally embarrassed myself, and I can feel myself blushing.
Stop Talking.
Two hours later, I sit and stare out the window. My movie is over, but his scent is not. It’s surrounding me, taunting me with things I shouldn’t be thinking about.
How does he smell so good?
Unsure what to do without seeming awkward, I decide to take a nap, try to sleep through the next few hours. But first I need to go to the bathroom. I stand. “Excuse me.”
He moves his leg a little, but not enough for me to fit through, and I have to lean over him to get past. I stumble and fall and put my hand on his thigh: it’s large and hard to my touch. “I’m so sorry,” I stammer, embarrassed.
“That’s fine.” He smirks up at me. “More than fine.”
I stare at him for a moment. Huh?
“There’s a method to my madness.”
I frown. What does that mean? I make my way past him and go to the bathroom, and then I walk around and stretch my legs a little and ponder that statement. I’m stumped – I’ve got nothing. “what did you mean by that?” I ask as I fall back into my seat.
“Nothing.”
“Did you give me the window seat so I would have to climb over you?”
He tilts his head to the side “No, I gave you the window seat because you wanted it. Climbing over me was just an added bonus.”
I stare at him as my brain misfires. Am I imagining this? Older rich guys don’t usually speak to me like this...at all. “Are you flirting with me Jim?” I ask.
He gives me a slow sexy smile. “I don’t know. Am I?”
“I asked you first, and don’t answer my question with a question.”
He smirks and turns his attention back to the television screen. “This is where you should probably start flirting back...Emily.”
I feel my cheeks flush with embarrassment as I try to hide my stupid smile. “I don’t flirt. I either want a man or I don’t,” I announce.
“Is that so,” he says as if fascinated. “And how long after you meet a man do you make that decision?”
“Instantaneously.” I lie. That’s not true, but I’ll pretend. Faking confidence is my superpower.
“Really?” he whispers as the flight attendant walks past us. “Excuse me, can we have two more champagnes, please?” he asks her.
“Of course, sir.”
His eyes come back to met mine. “Well do tell. What was your first impression of me?”
I pretend to look around for Jessica the flight attendant. “You may need something stronger to hear this Jim. You’re not going to like it.”
He laughs out loud, and I find myself smiling broadly as I watch him.
“What’s funny?” I ask.
“You are.”
“Why am I funny?” I frown.
“This sense of righteousness 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 passes mine to me. His eyes linger on my face as he takes a sip. “What were you doing in London?”
“Ugh,” I roll my eyes. “I flew over for a friend’s wedding, and to be honest, I wish I hadn’t gone.”
“Why not?”
“My ex was there with his new squeeze, and he was being over-t he-top affectionate