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He doesn’t even ask more, doesn’t check with me. He just picks up the black bag with shiny gold hardware and carries it to the register.
Knowing I’ve lost, that this bag is getting purchased, I chase after him.
If I can get my card out of my broken bag, maybe I can quickly swipe it through the reader and pay whatever ungodly amount myself before he can buy it.
I really can’t let a stranger pay for this.
He’s already at the counter when I catch up. And it’s like he knows what I’m planning, because when I reach for the front zipper pocket, where my wallet is stored, he lifts his arm and hugs the bag to his chest.
The lady scans the tag, displaying the total on the little screen.
“Oh my god!” I classlessly exclaim before I start to tug on the man’s arm, making a point to ignore the silky-soft suit jacket under my fingers. “Please let me pay for that.” I swallow, thinking of the total. “Or, better yet, just let me keep the broken one. It’s fine.”
It’s not that I can’t spend that amount. It’s just that I’m… frugal.
The man’s dark eyebrow is quirked when he looks over his shoulder at me. “You always this stubborn, Valentine?”
Hearing him say my name, my full name, stuns me long enough for him to hand a card to the cashier.
“How do you…?” Then I look at my backpack that’s hugged to his chest.
Ah, yes. My bright yellow name tag, with Valentine Gandy written in careful letters, is right in front of his face.
A fresh wave of embarrassment floods my system. Something about this man tells me he doesn’t write his name on his luggage. He probably just narrows his eyes at his suitcase, daring it to get lost.
While he finishes the transaction, I stand back and really take him in. His black leather shoes and dark navy suit. The swirling black tattoos peeking out above his collar and crawling up to his hairline on the back of his neck. The way his shoulder muscles round underneath the blue fabric. How I feel so small next to him. But small in a feminine way, not an insignificant way.
Crinkling pulls my attention back to the counter.
The salesperson has removed the bundle of paper stuffed inside the new bag, used to keep its shape. And before I can worry about the man trying to move all my stuff into the new bag, he sets my broken backpack next to the new one on the counter and takes a step back.
“Thank you.” His deep voice says the words at the same time I do, causing him to smile.
Again. And he’s just as startlingly handsome as the first time.
I give my head a little shake. “Why are you thanking me?”
“Because.” He nods his head toward the pair of backpacks. “My mother would kill me if she knew I broke some pretty lady’s bag in the airport and didn’t replace it.” I think my lips move as I silently repeat the wordspretty lady, but he doesn’t pause. “She’d also kill me for going through your things, so I’ll let you do the honors.”
I glance back and forth between him and the bags on the counter. “I don’t suppose there’s any way to convince you to return that.”
He shakes his head. “All purchases are final.”
My eyes move to the salesperson, but she’s pretending not to listen. So I don’t know if he’s telling the truth or lying.
I roll my lips together before sighing. “You’re kinda bossy, aren’t you?”
The man laughs, loud and throaty, and I feel it in my bones.
“I’m not sure anyone has ever called me bossy before, but I suppose you’re not incorrect.”
I purse my lips, believing him.
Pretending he’s not watching, I quickly move everything into the new backpack. Silently enjoying all the compartments and zippers and the quality of the material. It’s still a ridiculous price, but at least it’s nice.
Last, I remove the name tag from the old bag and tuck it into an interior pocket. If I’m going to be using this newgrown-upbag, I’m going to adopt newgrown-uphabits.
I pull the final zipper closed and hoist the new backpack onto my shoulder, then turn to face the man. Or rather, face his chest.
