The stewardess is eye-fucking me from across the plane, and I know what she wants. Don’t get me wrong, I’d fuck her; she’s cute enough and all. But at this moment, I’m more intrigued with Sasha. She’s fascinating to me, and I really have no clue why. Maybe it’s the apparent distaste she has for me. It has me determined to find out why. She’s a brick wall and won’t let me in, and for me, that’s typically pretty easy to break through. But, whatever the reason for her disdain, I have to know more about her.

Glancing over at her, I see she has her eyes closed. They’ve been that way for quite some time; I’m assuming she’s sleeping. Her lips are full and plump, her skin soft and glowing, and her hair, her long hair has my fingers itching to grab it.

As the plane begins its final descent into JFK, I’m contemplating waking Sasha. The cabin is surprisingly quiet, and I still want to talk to her and get to know her, but I go against it because she hates flying. I could see the sheer panic on her face when we took off, so even if it’s not what I want to do, I let her rest.

The landing is smooth, and even now as I take my phone out of airplane mode, Sasha is still sleeping. Then the captain comes on the intercom, and her tired green eyes open slowly, distracting me from what I was doing. She lifts the shade on her window and asks me, “Did we land already?”

“Yup. See, nothing to worry about.”

She gives me a small smirk, and it’s like her walls are slowly breaking down.

The plane arrives at the gate, and everyone stands up. Thankfully, in first class there is more room, so we aren’t packed in like a bunch of sardines. “Do you have a bag?” I ask her.

“Yeah, it’s the red one.”

I set the small red suitcase on the ground and place mine next to it.

“How long are you in town for?” I ask her as she gathers her things and places them in her purse.

“Why do you assume I’m from out of town and don’t live here?”

“Because of your accent.”

“I don’t have an accent,” she says, yet the southern twang to her voice is as thick as I’ve heard it. “Sure, you do, we all do from the South.” She rolls her eyes at me and takes her other bag, making her way off the plane. Obviously, I said something wrong that upset her. I follow behind her like a lunatic, afraid that I’ll never see her again if I just let her walk off.

“Are you gonna answer my question or not?” I ask her as we enter the airport.

“No,” she hollers back at me over her shoulder, and I speed walk so I’m next to her. She looks over, aggravated and asks, “Why should I?”

“Why wouldn’t you?”

She stops in the middle of the airport and swings around, looking intently at me. Her hair whips around and those green eyes blaze into mine. “Because, Westin, I can see through your bullshit and I’ll be honest, I don’t want any part of it.”

“What bullshit?” I repeat, not even sure where this is coming from.

“Listen, I’m sure you’re a nice guy. But you’re not the kind of guy I’m interested in.”

“I just asked you a question. I wanna know how long you’ll be in New York for.” “It’s none of your business!”

“Why the fuck not?” I ask offended, my ego bruised in a way it has never been before. “I’m not asking to fuck you!”

“See, that’s what I mean, you’re . . . too much! And you know what? I don’t have to explain anything to you.” She turns and walks away from me, taking my breath along with her.

Jesus, why does the woman have to be so unwilling?

Standing in the middle of the airport like a complete fool, I just let her walk off.

My phone rings and I answer it in a daze.

“Hello?”

“You land already, pussy?” Dex teases me.

“Yeah. Yeah, I did.”

“What’s with the tone?”

“Nothing!” I jive back, taking my frustrations due to Sasha walking away from me out on him.

“Okay, how was the flight?”

“Really good. I . . . I think I’m in love, man.”

“What?” he shouts so loud that it pulls me back into the moment. I realize then that I’ve been staring at Sasha for as long as I can see her.

“I mean it, man.”

“Jesus, only you could fall in love on a fuckin’ airplane.”