“I’m not finding anything on Othello. Like…at all. This man is a ghost when it comes to social media sites.”
Nothing?
“I don’t get it. How are you this big-time author with no social media?” She pauses. “There is a fan page on Facebook. No Instagram or TikTok. But of course Gavin is everywhere.” Her brows pull together as her thumb keeps scrolling.
I get swarmed by a sea of people exiting the airport, so I shift to the side and out of the way.
“Gavin’s Instagram is nothing but party pics and vacations.” She reports. “Damn… I’ve always thought he was fine as fuck.”
“Okay. Focus,” I say impatiently. “Are there any pics of Othello on his Instagram?”
“None. Mostly pics of himself with Carina. They look cute together, I guess.”
Gavin and Carina? Was there ever an Othello and Carina?
No way. Absolutely not.
Othello and I talked about everything in the past ten hours. I mean, yes, he was vague about some things, and we didn’t talk much about his dating life, but I think he would share if he was the ex of an A-list celebrity.
He can't be Carina Sterling's ex.
I shake off the silly idea. “Remember, thisisHawaii. There are probably a dozen weddings going on this week.”
“Maybe so. But that’s still wild. What did you guys talk about?” Her full attention is on me again.
I give her the rundown on everything we discussed, him holding my hand when I got scared during take-off, and how we watchedLoveJones. I leave out the butterflies I’d been feeling since he sat down next to me.
“So, this man issingle, single?” Lo asks after I give her the scoop.
“As far as I know. He wants to go on a date with me while we’re here.”
Lo squeals. High-pitched and annoyingly so. “That is amazing, Mar! You need something like this. A man to sweep you off your feet. And I can tell he’s a gentleman. He gave chivalrous vibes during our interview. So well-mannered and well-spoken.”
I think back to how courteous Othello was after our plane landed. When his large check-in suitcase came around first, Othello stood and waited for my luggage before he grabbed it and hauled it onto a luggage cart. He then walked me out front where my waiting car was supposed to be.
“He’s certainly been a gentleman. He took my weekender bag down from the plane, and then carried it while he lugged his stuff too.”
“Where’s your driver?” Othello had asked once we got outside and no one was there for me.
“Not sure, but I’m sure they’ll be here any second. You don’t have to wait. I’ll be fine.”
I noticed his hesitation before he took his luggage off the cart.
“Gonna get my car and come back around to check on you,” he promised.
Reluctantly, Othello went back inside the airport to purchase a rental car for himself, and I watched him walk away, admiring his football player stature and his six-foot-three-inch height.
“As he should,” Lo says, bringing me back to reality. “I love a man who isn’t afraid to be a man. I went on a date with this guy last week, and he asked if I wanted the door open for me. Like, why do you need to ask me? Either you’re going to do it, or you’re not.”
I laugh. “You and these dates.”
Lo had just started dating again after purposely being single for five years. And it looked like her dry spell would be ongoing. When it came to men, she was picky with a low tolerance level lower than mine. And mine was pretty low.
“Treat me like a lady, forever and always.”
“Here, here!” I cheer on.
Another crowd emerges from the sliding glass doors, and I finally decide to find a bench to sit on. I continue my lookout for the chauffeur that’s probably not coming at this point.
