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“Business degree paid off.”
“They’ll be proud.”
“Are they?”
“I don’t know. Maybe.” His eyes fix on mine. “Your mom?”
“I don’t know. Maybe she follows me on Instagram. But then what would she be proud of?”
“You mostly post your hair and makeup.”
“And boobs.”
“Do you get creepy messages?”
“Sometimes.”
“Like what?”
“Oh baby, come to my place. I’m not like those boys you’ve been with. I know how to handle a real woman.” I drop the put-on voice. “I assume that’s something about how I’m old. Or curvy. Or both.” I drift back into my creepy-PMer impression. “I’m gonna come on those gorgeous tits.”
“Not bad.”
I shoot him my best side-eye.
He laughs. “Just saying. Guy’s got game.”
“Why do I care that he’s gonna come?”
“Where’s your generosity?”
“Oh my God. Don’t even—”
“What if I pinned
you to that chair and whispered—” He leans over the arm rest. Plants his hands on my shoulders. Brings his lips to my ear. “On your knees, baby. I’m gonna come on those gorgeous tits.”
Uh…
His chuckle flows into my ears.
“I, uh… that’s different.”
“How?”
“It’s you.”
The flight attendant stops in front of us. Clears her throat. “Seatbelts on, please.” She points to the fasten seatbelt sign.
Ryan flashes her a million-dollar smile.
She blushes, but shakes it off. Walks away with a mmm, if only he was single sigh.
“She wants to fuck you,” I say.
“Who doesn’t?”
“I like confident Ryan.”
