Page 20 of Special Delivery

“I’m so glad you could join us,” she tells me.

I didn’t have much of a choice is what I want to say, yet I plaster another smile.

“You all have your boarding passes and passports?” Dad asks.

Ryan murmurs a “Yup” while the rest of us nod. It took me some time until I found my passport buried and forgotten under a ton of paperwork. I trail to the back of the group, hoping to be the last for security check, but Ryan ruins my plan by stepping in after me. He gives his thick beard a lazy scratch, and I turn to the front, hoping to be graceful enough not to enter another altercation with him.

It’s not who I typically am. My signature response is always flight, never fight, but he rubs me the wrong way. I hate the fact that he saw my vulnerable moments back when I didn’t even know his name. I hate the fact that he’s probably scheming with his mother to squeeze as much money as possible out of my dad. And, most of all, I hate that I still find him attractive.

The line in front of us moves, so I take two steps forward, a male voice stopping me in my tracks. “Please remove your belts and watches, and separate your electronics into the provided bins.”

A cold sweat appears on my face in mere seconds as I realize my mistake. The little sex toy I’ve brought has a battery. That means it’s electronic, right? Still, they can’t be forcing people to air out their sex toys for the world to see, can they?

They’re the fucking TSA; they can do worse things than that.

My breath quickens as I take another shaky step forward.

It’ll be fine, Paige. It’s a small battery, like the one an electric toothbrush has. They won’t even notice it. Fuck, I hope so.

I separate my phone and laptop into the gray bins, placing my jacket and sweatshirt alongside them. I pass through the metal detector, but my luggage’s trip on the conveyor belt feels endless. My bag finally reaches the scanner when an agent approaches me, her thick curls bouncing as she walks.

“Ma’am, which bag is yours?”

My vision is blurry as I look at her. “Sorry?”

“The bag. Which one is yours?”

I point a shaky finger at my suitcase, and she reaches the agent checking the scanner, her hand perched on the taser at her hip. They exchange words, glancing at me every few seconds, before she comes back to me.

“Ma’am, I’m going to need you to step here to the front and open your suitcase.” Her voice travels to my ears through a thick fog of buzzing.

“What?”

She motions her arm to her colleague. “We need you to open the suitcase.”

My feet follow her of their own accord. “But I…” Before I finish my thought, we reach the second agent, who narrows his eyes at me. My mouth is now fully dry, my tongue trying to wet my dehydrated lips.

The female agent gestures to my suitcase, and I hurry to open the partly rusted zipper. From the corner of my eye, I see the image of the scanner.

“We need to see this,” the male agent says, zooming in on a black clump smack dab in the middle of my stuff.

This can’t be happening.

I glance to the front, checking where the rest of my family is. They have luckily all passed security and are heading to the gate. I let out a breath before remembering there is one more member of our party. And he’s right behind me, witnessing everything.

Our gazes lock for a moment before I snap back to my suitcase, just in time for the agent to pull away all the layers of carefully placed clothing and find a small velvet pouch. Her gloved hand squeezes it with suspicion, while her colleague keeps his hand on his taser.

Please. Please don’t pull it out.

With a questioning glance at me, she loosens the top of the pouch. All hope leaves me as she extracts the pink toy from the pouch, her expression transforming into one of relief. Her colleague shakes his head with a playful smirk, like this is just another funny work story. A snort breaks free from behind me, making my teeth grind together.

“All clear,” the agent says, placing the toy back inside the pouch and doing her best to put my stuff back where it was.

It’s too late, though. The cat’s out of the bag.

My legs are wooden, my cheeks burning up as I attempt an apology. “S-Sorry. I forgot to place it with electronics.”

The agent chuckles, her mood visibly lighter. “That’s okay, honey. Toys don’t need to go with electronics. But you were so obviously stressed and that lump inside your suitcase was looking suspicious, so we had to check.”