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When I look at her again, I can see that this time her eyes sparkle.
I thought it was hot when she argued with me, but it's even sexier when she looks happy.
Are we…flirting?
But I never flirt. How the hell would I know how to flirt?
"What would you like to drink, sir?" Emily, the flight attendant, asks, and it's the only thing that makes me look away from Crystal's huge brown eyes.
"Scotch on the rocks, two fingers," I say to her.
"And you, miss?" Emily asks Crystal, so I face her again.
She hesitates, breathing heavily and biting her lip. Her eyes travel from Emily to me and back again.
"They have everything, including Japanese sake and Russian vodka," I say, encouraging her to not be shy.
I want to see her even more relaxed. It makes speaking to her so easy, so natural, it’s as if we’ve known each other for a long time.
"Dark rum, no ice, two fingers as well," Crystal finally makes a choice, and Emily walks away.
"Rum, huh?" I chuckle. "Must admit that I'm surprised. I thought you'd choose wine."
"No way." She shakes her head. "Rum is in my blood."
There’s a long pause after that, and we just look at each other without saying a word.
The attraction between us is so strong, it could be cut with a knife. And I'm sure she feels it, too.
"Aguas…is that Mexican?" I break the silence, asking about her family name.
"Puerto Rican," she clarifies, leaning back on the chair. "And my father gave me a teaspoon of rum each time I had the flu since I was three years old."
She smiles again, speaking so warmly about her family. She's still close with them, I'm sure.
I wish I could say the same about mine, but I don't really know them. They were always somewhere far away while I was raised by nannies.
"I'm glad you used your real name in that fake résumé," I confess.
Her eyes widen in surprise, and she raises an eyebrow as if asking me for an explanation.
"That means you don't think I'm racist," I continue. "I mean, given the fact that I'm sexist and ageist."
"I'm sorry." She shakes her head shamefully and lowers her eyes. "I shouldn't have said that."
But I'm glad you did.
I don’t say it out loud, because I know I shouldn't. We work together and that's all. And if she didn't lie on her résumé, we never would have met.
"Your idea was really great. Do you know why I chose it above the others?" I change the subject to make her relax a little.
She looks up at me again, shaking her head.
"I chose fifty candidates for this job, people whose ideas seemed the most profitable," I continue, "and then I took fifty of our stores and tried one idea in each."
"Seriously?" she exclaims happily, rounding her eyes. "Does that mean that my idea won?"
"It does." I nod with a smile. "Your idea of making one big holiday box from our twenty-five best products and putting them together for a Christmas calendar was the most profitable."
