Page 39 of Before Dawn

It was always like this before a flight. Always this battle against thoughts that refused to quiet.

Then, out of nowhere—bam.

My shoulder collided with something solid, jolting me backward. My bag slipped from my grasp, items tumbling to the floor.

“Shit,” I muttered, bending down to gather my things, barely sparing a glance at the person I’d crashed into—until a familiar scent wrapped around me.

Clean, masculine, with a crisp hint of something dark and intoxicating.

I knew that scent.

A sinking feeling settled in my stomach.

Slowly, I lifted my gaze.

And there he was.

Towering over me, tousled hair a perfect mess, casual attire that somehow only made him more irresistible. His tattoos—God, those tattoos—snaked down his arms, bold against his tanned skin. Each intricate line dared me to trace them.

Our eyes locked.

Frustration. Surprise. And something else—something unspoken—flashed between us.

I took a slow, steadying breath, my heart hammering as I braced for whatever came next.

“Mikkel,” I said, my voice sharper than intended, the annoyance from Joshua’s texts still lingering. “What are you doing here?”

“You know my name.” His crooked smile was all mischief, eyes tracing over my disheveled state like he was committing it to memory. “I have a flight,” he said easily, though the glint in his gaze told me there was more to it. “Been hoping to see you, Red.”

“Hoping to see me? Why?”

Silence. Thick, charged, full of something unsaid.

Then, without breaking eye contact, he crouched down, reaching for the things I’d dropped. “Let me help you with that.”

His fingers brushed mine, sending a jolt through me, and I cursed how easily he got under my skin. The airport was loud, but somehow, in that moment, the noise dulled, everything shrinking to just him.

“Thank you.”

He studied me, lingering just long enough to make me squirm. “I still don’t know your name. I can’t call you Red forever.”

He absolutely could.

And before I could stop myself, I muttered, “I wouldn’t mind if you did.”

The corner of his lips twitched. “A mí tampoco me importaría, Red.15”

I had no idea what he just said, but it was quite possibly the sexiest thing I’d ever heard.

“Abigail-Ann,” I mumbled. “But most just call me Abigail.”

“Abigail.” His voice wrapped around my name like it belonged to him. And fuck, I don’t think my name has ever been said that attractively in my life.

“Pretty name for an even prettier face.”

I rolled my eyes, but the warmth spreading through my chest betrayed me. “Smooth as ever, Mikkel.”

He chuckled, the sound rich and unhurried. “Can’t blame a guy for trying.” A beat of hesitation, then—“Would it be weird if I asked for your Instagram?”

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