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I nod my head, completely agreeing with her sentiment. “And work can fill the void when I feel lonely. At least I'm accomplishing something and furthering my life, even if I'm not in a relationship.”
Her smile widens, but she stops speaking as the flight attendant stops and asks us if we’d like anything to drink. I see the woman eyeing me and know what she’s going to say before she does.
“I swear I know you,” she says, looking directly into my eyes.
“I’m sorry, I don’t think so,” I say.
“Well, I’d like to.” Her smile brightens to a thousand kilowatts, and I brace myself. “Can I get your number?”
“Oh, no, thank you,” I say before turning back to my companion, who seems to be holding back a laugh. “You were saying?” I say, arching an eyebrow as her gaze travels over my shoulder to the attendant who must still be hovering, no doubt surprised by my response.
“We were talking about being lonely.”
I nod my head. “Are you? Lonely, I mean.” I often feel like I use work as an escape from being alone and to avoid feelings of loneliness.
She shakes her head, her gaze not leaving mine. “Sometimes. But not right now.”
As her words sink in, something tells me to change the subject. I'm uncomfortable, but I'm not quite sure why. Maybe because we're getting too close, too serious. I don't want to risk getting more attached to this stranger I barely know, but who seems to click with me on every level. Still, her words bring a tsunami of warmth that cascades over me and I blink.
The flight seems to pass impossibly fast and when we’re off the plane and in the airport, I know I might never see her again. So I have to make the moment count. Standing beside her at baggage claim, I realize I don't want our time together to end, but we don't even know each other 's names.
“Hey,” I say, breaking the silence between us as the dull rush of airport noise fills the air. “Can I ask you something?” I have to muster up the courage to ask the next question, almost as if I'm silently asking her permission.
“You just did, but sure,” she replies with that smile I’m quickly becoming addicted to.
“What’s your name? We never got around to that part.”
“No, we didn’t,” she says, her tone thoughtful. The group to our right suddenly bursts into loud conversation, and I find myself leaning in closer to her just to hear. Her lips are so close I want to kiss her, and her breath tickles my chin.
“My name is Moira.”
“Michael,” I say as her gaze locks on mine. The whole world seems to go quiet around us as if we're the only two people left. I want to kiss her right here, right now.
But I don't.
I swear I see silent permission in her eyes, but that's not enough.
I'm not going to be another guy in her life that expects something in return for kindness.
And all too quickly, the moment slips away.
Her gaze lowers to my lips than meets mine. “It was nice meeting you, Michael.”
“Likewise,” I say, hating my lame response.
She grabs her bag, turns around and walks away.
I want to call her, tell her to come back.
But I don't, because that would be stupid.
I'm just a crazy stranger in an airport.
And as I watched her vanish into the crowd, I curse myself for not making a move while I had the chance.
Chapter Five
Moira
