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Even though I had TSA Pre-Check, it never failed that the TSA Pre-Check wasn’t available when I needed to use it.
That was why I was standing in line with about a thousand other people trying to get through security when I literally went through a whole bunch of trouble to get the bullshit TSA Pre-Check.
I’d had to take a day off of work. I’d had to drive an hour—though literally anywhere you went in Dallas, Texas was an hour, no matter if it was just around the corner or not—to the office where it was being done. I had sat there for over two hours, because what was the point of making a stupid freaking appointment? Then, I’d had to wait forever to get the dang thing approved because there was ‘something wrong with my fingerprints’ and I had to go redo them.
Literally, so much work.
And then this.
What a letdown.
“This is a freakin’ joke,” I heard the man behind me mutter.
I looked up and froze.
I’d been standing in front of the man for a solid thirty minutes now and hadn’t looked behind me once.
Now I was staring at the god of all gods, and barely managing to bring breath into my starving lungs.
“Um, what?” I asked.
“This stupid, fucking line.” He looked down at me. “Sorry, I don’t usually cuss in front of strangers. But this line… I have a plane to board in an hour, and this line is moving as slow as freezing cold molasses.”
I snorted. “What’s even worse, is that I spent an entire month getting Pre-Check, and then I get here, thinking I’ll finally get to use it, and they have the stupid TSA Pre-Check line down.”
His eyes came to me, and I nearly collapsed.
Bright blue. Like Travis Fimmel from The Vikings, blue.
Just. Like. Mine.
I’d never met anyone with eyes like mine, but this man had them, and they were… gorgeous.
They were the prettiest things I’d ever seen.
And I’d seen a lot of pretty things in my twenty-nine years of life.
“That does suck pretty bad,” he agreed. “I’ve looked into it, but since I haven’t flown commercial all that much, I didn’t see a reason to get it. But I’ve heard Global Entry is the way to go, anyway.”
I’d heard the same, but since all of my flights were in the Continental US, and Global Entry was for people that liked to go outside of the country, there was no reason to go that far.
But then again, maybe it would’ve been way easier to obtain at this point.
The Global Entry line was definitely working and flowing for that matter.
“Maybe that’s what I should’ve done,” I grumbled.
I tried to turn away, but I got caught up in checking out the rest of him.
He was tall. Just as tall as my brothers, easily.
He had messy, shoulder-length dark hair—a mix between black and brown. More of a coffee color, which I was addicted to in its own right. He had a close-cropped beard that showed off a set of dimples—even though he wasn’t really smiling. And his skin.
God, he had some great skin. Like the deepest tan I’d ever accomplish at the end of a summer spent in a coastal beach town.
If I had to compare him to a person, I’d say think ‘Witcher’ but with dark hair.
He. Was. Beautiful.
