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“What?” My jaw dropped. The conversation had turned sexy fast, and I couldn’t say that I was hating it.
“I said, I would love to join the mile-high club with you.” His voice was low. “And if you don’t know what that means, I can explain it.”
“I know what it means, but I’m surprised that you think that the first time we made love would be in the small bathroom of an airplane.”
“The first time?” He grinned. “So there will be multiple times?”
“I didn’t say that.” I blushed and shook my head quickly. “I just meant to say that who suggests airplane sex for a first hookup?”
“Me.” He winked as his hand lightly touched my leg. “I think it would be fun.”
“I think it would be tight.”
“Tight is good.” He grinned, and I groaned. I quickly pulled a book out of my bag and held it up to him.
“I’m going to read now, Max, so you can continue this conversation with someone else, or yourself, just not with me.” I smiled at him sweetly. “I need to see if I figured out who the murderer is or not.”
He glanced at the Agatha Christie book in my hand and smiled. “I bet you didn’t. Agatha Christie is the Queen of Red Herrings.”
“And I’m the queen of solving murder mysteries.” I laughed.
“Nice deflection, by the way.” His face got serious for a few seconds. “You really love reading, don’t you?”
“I love books, yes.”
“So then why law school? Why not a masters in English literature or creative writing or something like that?”
“Because I can’t see myself becoming a professor and those programs cost a lot of money with not much payout at the end.” I shrugged. “If I go to law school and become an attorney, I can get a good-paying job.”
“Didn’t your dad just come into a lot of money?”
“A good amount.” I nodded. “But he also has nothing saved for retirement.” I shrugged. “He and my mom have a lot of bills. I can’t count on their money.” I was surprised at how much I was opening up to him. I hadn’t even discussed my worries with Harriet or Chelsea. As the middle child, I felt like I was the only one of my siblings that was really worried about money and the future. Even though I was irresponsible and goofy at heart, I wanted a career. I wanted to feel safe and settled. That was why I’d even stayed at this internship. I needed to find a way to provide for myself. That didn’t count on anyone else. Yes, I loved writing. Yes, I wanted a creative career, but I craved stability. I needed to get a job that I knew would pay well. What sort of money would I get writing books? What sort of stability would that offer?
“I understand.” He nodded. “So you see law as a way to provide for yourself. And maybe your parents, if they need help in the future?”
“Yeah.” I nodded, feeling surprised at how perceptive he was. “They have money now, but they’re not that good with money. I know Finn will offer them guidance, but what if Harriet and Finn break up? Then they will be screwed. I just want to be in a position to help, if I can.”
“That’s very noble of you.” He nodded. “Do you enjoy the law?”
“I don’t know how to answer that.” I shrugged. “I don’t really know the law, and I’ve only been at the internship for a week.”
“True.” He cocked his head to the side. “But do you feel a passion to learn more about the law?”
“Kinda,” I lied. I didn’t want to admit that I didn’t care about it at all. That while I liked being around him, I didn’t like any of the work I’d had to do so far. That I spaced out on work calls and that I couldn’t even name all the justices on the Supreme Court.
“Okay, then,” he said. “Because you know the law isn’t glamorous. And it’s not like you see on TV? It’s a lot of research. A lot of writing. A lot of negotiation.”
“Sounds fun,” I lied. “I mean, it sounds like it could be fun at times,” I clarified quickly, because even though I didn’t want to admit I wasn’t that into the law, I didn’t want to be totally dishonest. “I guess I’ll see if I even get in anywhere.”
“I’m sure you will.” He nodded. “Harvard Law School, here you come.”
“Yeah, right.” I laughed out loud. “I know I’ve mentioned Harvard many times, but I am under no illusion that I would actually get in. I’d be happy to go to UF, to be honest.”
“You know they have a fully funded creative writing MFA as well, right?”
“You don’t even know if I’m a good writer.” I shook my head, not wanting to indulge the questions in my head. What would my life be like if I allowed myself to apply to MFA programs? What if I allowed myself to dream about writing all day every day for two years straight without worrying about getting a day job? That would be fantastic.
“Share something with me, then,” he said softly. “I do really want to read your stuff.” He ran his hands through his hair. “But whenever you feel comfortable is also all right with me. I understand that you may not trust me with your work, right now.”
