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1.
Solange
My grams always used to say that you can tell everything about a man simply by looking at his shoes. If he’s wearing sneakers-he’s still a man-child. Boots mean he’s free spirited as well as…good in bed (and no she wasn’t talking about my pops). Dress shoes mean he’s marriage material. The nice, reliable type.
Exactly the kind a girl should be on the lookout for. Not that I’m on the lookout. Besides, I don’t know a ton of men who’d put up with my busy schedule and constant change of scenery.
The terminal’s alive with movement and noise, running footsteps, rolling suitcases, and the constant hum of voices and announcements. I weave through the crowd with practiced ease, my cabin bag tugging at my shoulder. Flight 429 to Colorado is set to board in less than an hour, and I have to be there for the pre-flight checks.
My mind’s a whirl of tasks and deadlines, my heels click against the shiny floors, my fingers traveling to my hair to make sure the tight bun is still in place. Stress makes anxiety flutter in my chest and I glance at my watch, cursing under my breath. I overslept and I hate being late, hate being unorganized.
I catch the eyes of the passengers that are about to board, their faces blank, hands wringing in their laps. I know that look. It’s that fear of flying, but to be honest I can’t relate to it. There’s nothing better than the feel of an airplane lifting. It makes me feel light and as if there are endless possibilities ahead of me. I always feel like a dreamer when I’m up in the sky and I don’t know how many times I’ve fantasized about the plane being forced to land in some remote area of the world, where an exotic hunk lays eyes on me then proceeds to do unspeakable things…As I hurry past the shops and kiosks, a sudden commotion catches my attention.
”Stop that thief!” a female voice shrieks.
Whirling around, I lock eyes with a guy, scruffy and dressed in a hoodie, sprinting through the terminal, clutching a small purse. Behind him, an older woman attempts to run after him, her face a mask of fear and frustration. She frantically waves her hand around, yelling for security.
My heart races as the thief dodges through the crowd. I should do something. Stop him. Block him. But I’ve never been in a physical altercation with anyone and the sheer thought terrifies me, so embarrassingly enough I end up doing nothing. Just as he passes a row of benches, a foot shoots out, tripping him.
The thief stumbles, falling flat on his face and the purse flies from his grasp, landing in a corner. The man who tripped him rises with casual grace, retrieving it. I can only see his back but he has broad shoulders and an air of reassuring authority around him that makes my throat snare. Security comes running, hauling the thief away and the man hands back the purse to the grateful woman.
I swallow at the sight of his face. He’s handsome in a way that seems almost unreal—dark hair, chiseled features, pale eyes. Killer jawline. He’s dressed in a pair of cream colored pants and a light blue shirt that sets him apart from the other, more disheveled passengers.
”Thank you! Thank you!” I hear the woman cry. ”You have no idea what you’ve just done. That purse has my passport in it!”
”Not a problem,” the man smiles, his eyes flickering with amusement, ”happy to be of service to pretty, young ladies.”
The woman flushes furiously and I hide a smile, knowing that he just made her day with that compliment. She continues to thank him and at one point she rests her hand on his arm and gives his biceps a squeeze. Putting a hand over my mouth, I suppress a laugh but I don’t blame her for being giddy. That man-he’s movie star material and that’s not an exaggeration. I watch him curiously as he sits back down and returns to the book he was reading. He licks a finger, flipping a page and I realize I’m staring.
And not only that…I need to move.
As I pass him by, he surprise me by looking up. Our eyes meet, and he gives me a slow, knowing smile. It sends a shiver down my spine, and I hurry to flash a pale smile back, feeling his gaze follow me with a burning intensity until I round a corner. Those eyes of his might look like glaciers but they’ve got me all hot and bothered.
The familiar environment of the plane is luckily a comfort, calming me down a bit and I look up when I bump into my colleague Carrie.
”What up with you?” she asks. ”Didn’t you look in a mirror before you came here?”
”What do you mean?” I say, horrified as I search for my pocket mirror. I hope I don’t have a smudge on my face. Hope that’s not why that man smiled at me.
”You forgot to blend your blush,” she says, thumbing my cheeks and then she frowns. ”Oh, my bad. You’re just red in the face.”
Glaring at her, I lean against the wall and let out a breath. ”You know what I love about you?” I pant. ”The fact that you have no filter.”
”Most people love that about me,” Carrie says, fluttering her lashes. ”Especially men. And especially in bed…” She swirls her hips around, pretending to swing a lasso and I flush even more furiously.
”Cut that out,” I pant, ”Someone might see you.”
Carrie laughs, brushing me off. ”Such a prude,” she says with an eye-roll, ”you need to loosen up.”
I pop a hip out and cross my arms. ”Does that mean you’ll join me for drinks once we land in Colorado?”
”You’re talking to a functioning alcoholic, remember?” Carrie laughs and we both cackle, high-five then look at each other with equally horrified expressions. ”I can’t believe we just high-fived.”
”I know,” I sigh. ”Let’s pretend it didn’t happen…” We agree on that and start with the usual tasks: checking emergency equipment, ensuring the galley’s stocked, coordinating with the other attendants. The routine helps calm my racing heart, though the image of the man’s smile lingers in my mind.
He was wearing dress-shoes.If grams was here, she’d tell me to go get him, Tiger. A smile curls my lips but I shrug, then take a deep breath in order to get a grip. That man is going to be on this flight. Which means that I’m going to tend to him.
I brush a couple of hair strands off my face, clearing my throat.The gate agent announces the start of boarding, and I take my place at the door, ready to greet passengers and check their passports. The steady stream of people begin, each one a blur of faces and documents.
