Page 27 of Falling for the Playboy Pilot

“I know,” she said, bitter laughter bubbling up. “I know. And the cherry on top? Now I have to fly with the bastard. Sit two feet away from him in a spotter plane while pretending I don’t want to stab him with a pen.”

“That’s brutal.”

“Too much friction,” she said. “And not the good kind.”

I winced in sympathy. Bill was an attractive guy. Not as hot as Dalton, but I could see the appeal.

“But you know what’s messed up?” Cheryl continued almost like she was talking more to herself than to me. “He’s not all bad. He’s got charm, you know? When he wants to, he can be sweet. Funny. He would show up with my favorite coffee or remember some random thing I mentioned weeks ago. And for a second, I would think that maybe it was real. Maybe he was finally ready. But then…” She trailed off, shaking her head. “Then he does something stupid. He would flirt with some random woman at the bar or bail on plans because he forgot. I think that’s when I realized he was never going to change. He is never going to settle down.”

I nodded, taking the bottle from her and sipping slowly. The whiskey was starting to warm me from the inside out. “Sounds like he’s got commitment issues,” I said carefully, not wanting to overstep.

“Commitment issues?” She laughed, but there was no humor in it. “That’s putting it mildly. Bill’s allergic to commitment. He’s the kind of guy who thinks settling down means giving up his freedom. Like I’m going to clip his wings.”

“I’m sorry.” I didn’t know what else to say.

“You want some advice?” she asked finally, tilting her head toward me.

“Sure.”

“Don’t fall in love here.”

“Yeah?” I asked through lips that were a little numb.

“These boys are good for one thing. You want to blow off some steam? Fine. Ride ‘em like you’re at the rodeo and leave before the sun comes up. But don’t you dare go catching feelings. These flyboys are not looking for anything real. They will take your heart for a season and then stomp all over it when they’re finished with you.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” I said.

“I’m the cautionary tale. Don’t be me.” She flopped back onto the ground and stared up at the stars. “Dalton ever give you those eyes?”

“What eyes?” I was playing dumb because I knew exactly what eyes she was talking about. And yes, I had seen those eyes earlier and they had left me all hot and bothered.

“The ones that beg you to get naked with them.”

I choked. “No.”

“He’s the worst one,” she said. “Hot, haunted, and dangerous. The holy trifecta of heartbreak.”

“I’m not—” I started, but she cut me off.

“You’re not interested, I know. None of us ever are. Until we are. Then we’re up at midnight drinking on a hill talking about how much men suck.”

We burst out laughing. We were both feeling the buzz. “We should probably go home,” she said.

“I’m not sure I can walk.” I giggled.

“Me either.”

We laughed again. We managed to stand, stumbling into each other and laughing so hard I was worried I might actually pee my pants. I was pretty sure my legs were made of Jello. We stumbled back down the hill like drunk deer. Between the two of us leaning heavily against each other, we managed to stay upright. It wasn’t pretty, but we made it back to the dorms without any bruises or sprained ankles.

We barely managed to get our shoes off as we each collapsed onto our beds. Cheryl went down face-first. The world spun, then faded into blackness.

BANG BANG BANG.

I jolted awake and sat up. “What the hell?”

My mouth was dry. My skull was full of cotton and fog. I squinted at the door and then looked over to see Cheryl was still passed out, face down but her chest was rising and falling, telling me she wasn’t dead.

BANG BANG BANG.