His question startles me. “Oh, sorry. What?”
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“Really?” he questions, a doubtful look on his face. “Cause you have this look on your face.”
“What look?”
“This, ‘uh-oh, thismight not be a good idea’look.”
I can’t even answer, because… “Yes, that is what I was thinking.”
Othello shakes his head as if he pities me. “Now, why would the two of us getting togethernotbe a good idea?”
He leans in close, and my brain goes ragged.
“Personal stuff.”
“Personal stuff, like what? Let’s talk about it.”
I look at him like he’s growing a third eye. “Now why would I tell you something personal?”
Othello feigns offense. “Damn, it’s like that?”
I raise my eyebrow at him. “How do I know I won’t end up in your next book?”
He holds up his hands. “You won’t. Scout's honor. I just want to get to know you. We all have a story to tell.”
“And I’m supposed to just tell you my business after talking to you for a mere…” I check the time on my phone. “Twenty minutes?”
Othello shakes his head with amusement. “Technically we’ve been talking for longer than that. This isn’t our first time meeting each other.”
The way he says it makes something inside me tingle. Our eyes click, locked for what seems like minutes before I sit back in my seat and look away.
“True. But we still hardly know each other.”
“True,” he mimics and then checks the time on his gold watch. “So, we have nine hours and 45 minutes.”
“For what?”
“To get to know each other before we land in Hawaii.”
I shake my head with a laugh.
“Ok, what do you want to know?”
“Everything. Like what’s your favorite ice cream? What’s your favorite animal?”
I pause, smiling, as nostalgic memories of my childhood play in my mind.
“My favorite ice cream…strawberry. Hands down. And Ilovedolphins. I had this stuffed dolphin named Flipper once. I took him with me everywhere until I was in sixth grade and got teased for always bringing him to school.”
He laughs. “You brought a stuffed animal to school? What was it like, show and tell?”
“No, it was like a regular damn day.”
“Oh, hell no. Sixth grade, though? That’s wild,” he exclaims.
