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Gross. Soooo gross.
To no one’s surprise, the woman kept going. I fought the urge to vomit again, hearing her desperation to let the douche-canoe know she was more than willing to fuck him. And just like I’d expected, Ryan was lapping it up. Talk about ego. The stupid asswipe was always thinking with what was between his legs rather than the big brain upstairs. How did he ever manage to function due to the constant lack of blood?
“I think that sounds like fun,” Ryan gushed while I swallowed down a second wave of bile.
Jesus H. Christ. I really was going to barf. This guy was something else. Where was his self-respect? Why did he pick up chick after chick, knowing all they cared about were the millions he had in the bank and the chance to be an all-star baseball wife?
I didn’t know, and I couldn’t care less who he was or what he did. I could not understand that mentality. I wasn’t the type of woman who pursued a man for his wealth and celebrity status. I’d gone down that road once before and it nearly cost me everything. Apparently that never occurred to the bimbo behind me.
I’d known of Ryan since he'd started playing for New York, but had never had the ‘pleasure’ of meeting him until his pathetic attempt to hit on me during that first night in Fort Lauderdale. That didn’t mean I didn’t know of his reputation. Everyone knew of his reputation. Despite the fact I thought he was smokin’ hot, I knew to stay far, far away. Ryan was trouble with a capital TROUBLE. You see, my brother, Vinnie, was one of the team’s physical therapists. Vin was constantly bragging about how he ‘admired’ Ryan’s knack for attracting women. His smooth talking. How he had pussies dripping for him all across town.
Ugh.
Gross again.
What is it with men?
“So, what do you think?” the flight attendant cooed. I couldn’t stop the hard eye roll as I heard the familiar whisper of a hand sliding up fabric. No doubt her hand was on his thigh and quickly traveling north to the ‘horn’ located at his southern border. I expected to hear the rasp of a zipper being slid down any minute.
“I think that can be arranged. While I’ve got you here, why don’t you give me your number? That way we can finalize details once we get off.” Ryan’s voice was like silk. Rotting silk. And I’d heard about all I could stand.
“Excuse me, where are the barf bags?” I piped up and leaned around my seat to interrupt them. A quick glance at my fellow passengers told me I wasn’t the only one uncomfortable with the sickening flirting.
“Pardon?” The flight attendant had the foresight to look stunned as if she couldn’t understand what I’d said.
“I asked where the vomit bags are located.”
“Ignore her,” Ryan growled as he attempted to stare me down. As if that would intimidate me? I had faced much sterner stuff. If I didn’t wither under my mother’s death-stare, nothing he could throw my way would scare me off.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t quite hear you.” The flight attendant continued to play dumb while Ryan’s hands clenched into fists.
“Ignore her, Melissa. She’s just jealous.”
“Jealous?” I threw my head back and howled with laughter. “Jealous of what? You and her? Get real, Ryan! Maybe I’d be jealous if you were that super-hot actor in all those comic book movies—the blonde guy with all those delicious muscles or if you were that hot, long-haired model that’s on every romance book cover. Yeah, I might be jealous if you were one of them, but I’m not. You’re you. A philandering, douchebag ball player. Granted, you’re good. You can definitely play, I’ll give you that, but you’re a manwhore who’s bedded every single woman in Manhattan and last I heard, you were steadily working your way through the other boroughs too.” My words hit their mark. Ryan’s face turned tomato-red as he shot daggers my way.
“Shut. Up. Lou!” He was steadily working his way towards purple now.
“No. You’re making everyone sick with your ‘I wanna fuck you’ talk. Honestly, I’m surprised I’m not the only one asking for a barf bag!”
“I said shut up!” Ryan was seconds away from losing it and I couldn’t be more delighted. I’d gotten under his skin just as he’d gotten under mine. Payback was a bitch.
“Why? Why should I shut up? Because I’m telling the truth? It’s obvious that she’s only interested in you because she thinks she’s got a shot at being the next big baseball wife and you’re only in it to get your dick wet.” I was crude. I knew it, and I couldn’t help myself. For some reason, Ryan brought out the worst in me and I was helpless to stop what came out of my mouth.
It was now the flight attendant’s turn to flush red. Clearing her throat, she straightened herself up and quickly disappeared to join her coworkers.
“Are you happy now?” Ryan whisper-shouted. “I didn’t even have a chance to get her number.”
“Oh, you poor baby.” I feigned wiping away tears. “I’m sure she’ll bring it when she serves your beverage. Which means she’ll probably be too busy to serve mine since I embarrassed her. Oh well, one of the others will take care of me. Maybe that cute guy with the blond hair.”
“Lou, I’m warning you!”
“Look, pal. If my mother doesn’t frighten me, you stand no chance. You can take your threat and shove it up your ass where it belongs. And besides, just because she didn’t stick around doesn’t mean the flight’s a total loss. I’m sure you’ll find someone else. I mean, there are other women on this flight. I’m sure someone’s desperate enough to offer it up. Or, maybe you’ll get lucky and Melissa will come back with an invitation to join the mile-high club by giving you a blowie or a quickie in the bathroom?”
Judging by the tightness of Ryan’s features and the way he continued to clench and unclench his fists, I was treading in dangerous waters, but I just couldn't help myself. He’d thoroughly humiliated me in front of the entire wedding party and spent the rest of the weekend constantly staring at my ass and my chest. Ryan had embarrassed and pissed me off all weekend and I wasn’t going to throw away my chance to make him pay for it.
“For your information, I’m already a card-carrying member and you are insufferable!” Ryan growled out a low, venomous warning.
“Right back at you.” I brushed his warning off as if it were lint on my sleeve.
