Lexi

 

Okay, so, yeah, he broke my heart when I was eight. I was spying on him and Sterling while they talked about girls, specifically the slutty girl Mary-Kay. He professed his love for her and her tits in a way I didn’t really understand but still had me looking down at my own flat chest.

Yeah, yeah, I get it, I was eight, but I loved him. The minute they caught me eavesdropping, he slammed the door in my face, calling me bratty Little Lexi. I was shattered, so much so that I ignored him for a good six months. Whenever he came over, I made myself scarce or I went over to my neighbor’s house. I didn’t want to see him or even know him.

I was able to avoid him for at least six months before I saw him again, and my tender, young heart broke even more. Not only was he not covered in the warts I wished upon him every night, but he didn’t grow the second head I wished for either. He was taller, broader, more handsome, and draped all over him like a rash was none other than Mary-Kay.

“Hiya, Little Lexi,” was all he said to me before I rolled my eyes and walked away without saying a word. After that he went away to school, and we only saw each other sporadically on the rare occasion when he’d be picking up or dropping off Sterling.

“You are right here.” The flight attendant points to my seat, bringing me back from my trip down memory lane.

“Thank you so much.” I smile at her and scoot into my window seat. The seat next to me is vacant, and I notice Bradley is talking to the attendant who showed me to my seat.

He flashes her his one-dimpled smirk, and I swear I hear her panties sizzle as they melt off. I pull out my phone and send a quick text to Melanie.

You will never, ever believe who is on the same plane as me to VEGAS!!!

She responds right away.

Drake?

I let out a little giggle as my fingers type out my reply.

I would be calling you from his private jet if that were the case, so no. It’s Bradley!

Wait! Sterling’s best friend Bradley? British beefcake Bradley??

I roll my eyes at her ridiculousness, when movement in the aisle catches my eye. I lift my head to find a man looking at his boarding pass and then looking at me with a smile. I return the smile and then turn back to my phone to continue texting with Mel as the man stores his bag in the overhead bin.

We dropped the beefcake part. It’s just British Bradley now. But yes, it’s him, and he’s going to Vegas solo, too.

So he’s not hot anymore?

I don’t have time to answer before I feel the man sit down next to me. I turn my head to greet my seat mate only to see Bradley smiling back at me. I look at the man, who is now sitting in Bradley’s seat, and ask, “What did you say to him?”

He reaches over my head to adjust the air vent, leaning slightly into me in order to get to it, and the warmth of his body against mine scores right through me.

He leans in even closer, laughing as he replies, “I told him you just broke up with your boyfriend, and I had to console you.” He tilts his head. “I also said you were a nervous flier prone to airsickness and random fits of hitting.”

I gasp out in shock, my hand going to my mouth. My eyes dart to where the man now sits in Bradley’s seat. His eyes catch mine as his lips press together in a tight smile, and he nods his head at me.

“Jesus, you’re such an ass. He probably thinks I’m crazy.” I smack his arm.

He rubs his arm and turns to look at the man, who is staring at him. He shrugs his shoulders and points to his arm. “Thanks for that, Lexi. He actually looks scared,” he says as he raises a finger to get the flight attendant’s attention.

She immediately saunters over, and I think she even undid one of her buttons.

“What can I get you?” She practically purrs as she offers him a flirty smile.

“Oh, please,” slips out of my mouth before I can stop it, but luckily low enough that only Bradly heard it.

“Can we get a couple glasses of champagne?” he asks with a smile before looking over at me.

I nod my head yes. “He just got his test results back. He’s all clean.” I shrug and then bump my shoulder into his as I offer him a big smile. “Congrats, you big lug.”

The flight attendant’s eyes go back and forth between Bradley and me. “Um, sure.”

I snicker to myself as he says, “Well played, Little Lexi.”

Leaning back, I rest my head against the seat and close my eyes.

“Here you are.”

I open my eyes to the sound of the flight attendant’s voice. She hands Bradley his champagne glass and then leans over him to hand me mine. I tilt my head to the side, thinking she seriously couldn’t be any more obvious. I mean, I’m not with him or anything, but she doesn’t know that.

“Thank you.” I smile at her and look back at Bradley. “A toast to our Vegas vacation,” I say with a clink of my glass to his before I look back up at the attendant and wink at her.

She turns and walks away as soon as I put the glass to my lips.

Bradley smiles into his glass. “Did your claws just come out?”

“No. She was rude.” I look around and lean into him. “She was eye-fucking you,” I whisper to him before finishing the rest of my champagne. “I mean, she doesn’t know if we’re together.” I don’t even wait for him to say anything before I continue. “It was a lesson on behalf of all womankind. Besides, I actually did her a favor. One day she’s going to pull that crap with the wrong woman’s man, and she’ll find herself either embarrassed or flat on her ass. I was just trying to save her from that potential humiliation.” I finish and the excuse sounds weak to my ears. What the hell?

I raise my glass in her direction, hoping she just brings the rest of the bottle. She doesn’t have time to notice me before the captain comes on over the intercom.

“Flight attendants, prepare for takeoff,” he says, and everyone gets to their respective places as a video about safety procedures plays on the seatback screens.

Bradley leans on the armrest between us, his shoulder pressing against mine as the scent of wood and musk from his cologne wafts around me. “So why Vegas?”

I stare out the window, watching us move back from the gate.

“It was supposed to be a surprise, romantic week away. Just me and the douche canoe.” I take a deep breath before I continue. “Except I was the one who got the surprise when I got a visit from his wife. His very pregnant, very angry wife.” I laugh while I rub my face with my hands, thinking back to the other day when she knocked—more like pounded—on my front door. I look back at Bradley, who is rubbing his thumb and forefinger over his bottom lip.

“He’s an arse,” he says, his accent coming out in full force. He puts his arm around my shoulders and pulls me into him, and my hands itch to find a place on his body to rest.

“Well, needless to say, everything was non-refundable, so I decided to do this thing solo.”

He doesn’t say anything before we hear the engine rev as the plane speeds down the runway and we take off. I look out the window, everything below getting smaller and smaller the higher we climb.

I continue staring out, his arm still around me. I kick off my Chucks, folding my legs underneath me when the captain comes back on to let us know the seat belt light is off. The flight attendant walks down the aisle and closes the curtain that separates first class and coach.

I turn in my seat to look at Bradley, and his arm drops to the armrest between us. “So tell me”—I fold my hands on my lap—“what’s new with you? My brother says you’re in New York permanently now.”

“Yeah, the opportunity came up to move here, and I jumped on it. I had nothing holding me in London, so I said why the hell not. Here I am, three months later, and I haven’t regretted it yet.” He gives me a smirk that grows into a full-blown smile. He presses the button to call the attendant. “What do you want to drink, love?” he asks softly, but the way the endearment, love, just rolled off his tongue has my heart beating so loud I feel the echo in my ears.

“Wine,” I reply, and the flight attendant leaves to get our drinks, coming back with a wine glass for me and a neat scotch for Bradley. I take a sip of my wine before placing it down on the tray table in front of me. “Let’s play twenty-one questions,” I say to him, waiting for him to veto it.

“Are any questions off-limits?” he asks, placing his glass on his tray table.

“We’re both adults, right?” I tilt my head to the side to smile at him, watching his eyes shine with a challenge.

“I’ll start. Favorite color?” I ask, going easy on him, or maybe me, I’m not sure yet.

“Blue,” he says, looking straight into my eyes. “But not just any blue, a light blue with specks of darker blue.”

I grab my wine, taking a big gulp.

“Nice one. Okay, fine, so you like my eyes. Your turn.” I take another healthy sip as I wait for him to ask his question.

“Favorite ice cream flavor?”

My mind races as it tries to figure out where he is going with this question.

“I’m a boring girl when it comes to my ice cream. I like French vanilla. Nothing else, no syrup, no cherry, just plain vanilla,” I tell him and then lean in. “Although on special occasions, I do like to pour hot caramel on top. Sticky and sweet and so decadent.” I smile coyly and watch as his Adam’s apple bobs while he swallows. “My turn. Boxers or briefs?” I watch him close his eyes for a second before he answers.

“Neither.” He smiles and leans into my space, bringing us face-to-face. “What about you?”

I look him straight in the eye and tell him, “A thong. The sexier, the better.” I lean in a bit, surprising him. “A girl can be wearing the ugliest clothes in her closet, the ones that she reserves for laundry days, but knowing what we have on underneath makes us feel sexy.”

I lean in a little closer, my lips at his ear. “I actually prefer boxer briefs.” His breath hitches, and I continue huskily. “It’s like getting a present. You can tell just by looking at the package that it’s going to be amazing, but you don’t realize just how amazing that package will be until you actually unwrap it.” I’m about to pull away when the plane suddenly drops, and my hands automatically latch onto his arms as the seat belt sign comes back on.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we just put the fasten seat belt sign on. We have a little turbulence coming up, so please return to your seats and remain seated until we turn the sign off.”

 

We don’t move for what seems like forever, until the turbulence finally stops.

“Ma’am, sir, your towels,” the flight attendant interrupts, and our connection breaks before either of us does something we would probably both regret.