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“Let’s cheers,” I say, giving him a big smile and holding my drink out. “To hoping we both have a great little summer trip, huh?”
He nods and we tap our cups together before taking sips.
I wince, the burn of alcohol hitting me right in the back of the throat. I’m surprised I don’t hack anything up.
“Too strong?”
I nod. “Yeah. I drink pretty much never, so even a drop of alcohol is usually too strong for me.” But then I take another sip, remembering that it gets easier to drink the more you drink.
I wince again and he laughs, but almost immediately I can feel the warming effect of the liquor as it slithers through my veins.
Alcohol does two things to me. It makes me tired and very honest, a dangerous mix, which is why I rarely drink.
But the curiosity I’ve been feeling about Boyd seems to crawl forward and take control of my mind, and within just a few minutes, I can’t help myself when I lean a little bit closer to him and decide to dive into more personal questions.
It’s time to shift the attention to my handsome new friend, find out a little more about what makes him tick.
“So, tell me, Boyd: What’s life like for you back in Boston? You’ve got a fancy job, right? You have a fancy dog and apartment and girlfriend, too?”
I know I’m not slick when I ask that question. It’s blatant fishing, and I’ve never been good at luring anyone in, but I want to know. Our conversations might be all over the place, but I do enjoy a chance to flirt, especially with a man as handsome as Boyd.
In the bright light of a few sips of vodka, I can definitely say my interest in him has not waned over the course of our conversation or time together on the plane, and I doubt it will.
But if he has a lady? I’ll make sure to move myself into more neutral, friendly territory. I like to flirt, but not with someone else’s man.
“Yes to the fancy apartment,” he says, drawing me back to the fact that I asked him a question. “I live in Cambridge.”
“Oooooooooh, so fancy-schmancy,” I say, taking another sip of my drink.
“But no dog. I travel too much for work.”
There’s a pause, and I lean forward just a little bit, waiting and hoping he answers the last part of my question.
“And no girlfriend, either.”
“A handsome guy like you?” I scoff. “I’m shocked. You should have women lining up around the block.”
His mouth twists and his eyes twinkle as he watches me.
“You think I’m handsome?”
I’m sure I blush, but the alcohol loosens my tongue and has me sailing right past embarrassment and over the hill of nerves, straight into Confidence Town.
“Absolutely. You’re an eleven for sure.”
He lets out a reserved chuckle but continues to watch me.
“Most of the guys in my wheelhouse are in the seven or eight category, like me. You know, guys with a job and enough good looks and charm to make you think they’ve got their shit together. And usually, that’s enough. I don’t have crazy expectations or want anything long-lasting from them, so good enough is good enough, you know?” Then I wave a hand out in between us. “But I bet you put all those boys to shame.”
Boyd continues to smile at me, but now he’s biting his lip and watching me like I’m fascinating.
“Is that so?”
I nod. “Yup. Those boys…well, they’re boys. Just in it for a hookup and a chance to get off. I have no problem with that, not by any means. I am the queen of casual hookups. I think dating is best when you’re a person who likes dating but not relationships, like me. But it would be great if, just once, a guy was able to manage to make it as worthwhile for me, you know?”
Boyd leans closer, his brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”
I follow his lead and lean closer too, enjoying being a little bit closer to him and taking in that delicious smell of his.
