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3
Chris turned his attention to the overhead buttons, playing with the air vent. The thought of her knowing who he was and looking at him differently killed him. He wasn’t ready to break whatever good thing they had going on. “Are you hot? I’m kind of hot.”
“Uh, no. I’m good.” She gazed at him expectantly, obviously not falling for his piss-poor distraction.
He sighed and dropped his arm to his lap. “I’m taking a break right now.”
“A break? From what?”
“Life.” He returned the question before she could press for more details. “What do you do?”
“I’m a teacher.”
“I hear that’s pretty stressful.”
She spread out her hands, gesturing down the length of the plane. “Hence the weekend getaway.”
“What grade do you teach?”
“I’m in special education, so I don’t teach a certain grade. I have a range of kids in middle school.”
“What… Are they…?” He shook his head. “Never mind.”
She held up her hand. “No, it’s okay. I know what you’re trying to ask. My kids have mild to moderate developmental delays.”
Chris’s shoulders sank. Here she was with this incredibly meaningful job, while he was a so-called movie star with a penchant for trouble. “What do you teach them?”
“Mostly, we work on life skills, reading and math, and they go to different classrooms for all the other subjects.”
“Do you like it?”
Bronte pressed her hands to her chest. “I love it.”
His own smile grew as her face lit up. “I can tell. It’s nice to see someone doing some good for this world.”
“You don’t see much good where you’re from?”
She stared at him with such interest and sincerity, it made Chris want to tell her the truth. Maybe not the whole truth, but at least some of it. “It wasn’t my idea.”
“What wasn’t?”
“This trip I’m taking.”
“I thought you were escaping,” she teased.
“I am. I’m escaping my life for a while.”
“What happened? If you don’t mind my asking.”
He avoided her steady scrutiny and cast his eyes down, playing with the safety instructions tucked into the pocket of the seat in front of him. “I’ve…been a dick,” he said, waiting to see if her posture toward him would change. It didn’t, and he went on, his attention back on the blue leather of the seat in front of him. “I’ve been a real asshole for the past couple years, arrogant and spoiled.” He shook his head slightly. “And now, I’m taking a break. Hoping people forget that particular side of me.”
“Time heals all wounds.”
“Does it?” His eyes met hers, and he couldn’t turn back now. “I wrapped my car around a tree, and I was arrested for DUI.”
Chris waited as Bronte soaked in the information. He waited for her disgust or disappointment, but her reaction was far from it.
She only studied for a few moments. “Seems like you know that was a bad decision, though.”
