The last week has been filled with shy glances when I haven’t had my nose stuck in books, and waves and smiles through the wall between his office and the conference room. With his and Kayla’s encouragement, I’ve been helping out on the daily activities of the show when I need to, and doing the more mundane tasks of getting coffee and answering phones.

But when Ryan’s around, he doesn’t let me do that stuff. He only gives me big assignments, as though I’m actually an employee rather than someone just passing through for school credit and an extra line of experience on her resume.

When my limo rolled up to the drop-off area at LAX, I saw Ryan before he saw me. The tinted windows made me able to see him, but shielded me from his view. And it was a good thing, because I was a nervous wreck pulling up to see him.

But when I saw him, I felt my muscles start to relax, even though my heart skipped a beat. He looked perfect - the broad muscles in his shoulders filling out his t-shirt, the slightly tight dark jeans hugging his thighs and butt. He leaned down on the handle of his suitcase without a care in the world, one hand on his hip, like he was modeling for one of his advertisements.

He takes my hand and I get up shakily from where we’re sitting, the sun shining on his gorgeous face, and a feeling of calm and safety and excitement and newness all swirl inside my body at once. He picks up my carry-on and throws it easily over his shoulder, guiding me by putting his hand at the small of my back.

“We have somewhere important to be,” he says.

We make our way to the end of the departures area, past all of the curbside check-in booths and around a corner to a small, gated off flight of stairs.

I look back toward the departures area, unsure of where we’re going.

“What airline is it, again? You have my ticket, right?” I say.

“Yes, Sara. I have your ticket.” He puts my duffel bag down on the ground and grabs his cell phone, telling someone that we’re here.

I take stock of our surroundings. We’re standing in front of a high, chain-link fence, with a grassy, gated area to our right and the drop-off area to our left and up that small flight of stairs we just made our way down.

A young, handsome blond guy in a leather jacket, about my age, comes toward us on the other side of the fence and unlocks it, making small talk with Ryan about the weather.

“This is us,” he says, picking up my bag and leading me through the unlocked gate.

Stretching out before us is a large tarmac, the bright blue sky in the distance above it and palm trees dotting the horizon line. In the distance, plans are taking off and landing, filling the air with the sounds of engines and motors, and my stomach flips when I see Ryan jog out in front of me toward a small plane. He turns around and smiles, hooking his hands into the belt loops of his jeans.

“Well?” he says, coming toward me and taking my hand. “This is us.”

“Your own plane?” I say, his smile making me warm from the inside out. “I guess I shouldn’t have expected anything less from you,” I quip. “Have you always dreamed of having one of these?”

“You know,” he says, grabbing my hand and guiding me toward the jet, “not really. I never really flew much myself. When Kayla and I came out here, I actually never really thought I’d fly a lot. So now I always fly commercial.”

“Commercial?” I say, “Why? You have this fabulous plane.”

He stops when we get to the small set of stairs up to the entrance, taking my hand and guiding me as I step up carefully onto the first step.

“It’s actually new,” he says. My heart flutters as we get into the plane, four seats facing each other and either side, with white curtains on the windows and a small kitchen in the back.

“Please, make yourself at home,” he says, sitting in one of the big seats. “I got everything done in white. I hope you like it.”

“Like it?” I say, looking around and taking it all in. The most amazing thing in it is him - and the view from inside it. Inside my stomach is a flurry of butterflies as I try to figure out whether he actually purchased it with me in mind. Bending down to look out of one of the windows, I see streak of purple and pink sky against the setting sun, and I sink down into one of the seats across from the boss. “I love it. It’s beautiful.” I get up slowly, sensing his presence behind me, his hands coming down and resting on my hips. He spins me around so I’m facing him. I touch his arms, feeling the hard, corded muscle under my fingertips, inviting me to touch more of him.

“I’m glad you like it,” he says, touching the hem of my shirt, drawing it up in his fingers

The boss sinks down into one of the seats of his brand new jet, bringing me with him. I sigh deeply and grab onto his chest. The engine start rumbling, and as we start to speed down the tarmac, my stomach flips, and then drops as we soar into the air.

_____