Page 6 of Cloudy With a Chance of Bad Decisions

Didn’t feel put-together.

Didn’t feel in control.

Every breath was arduous. Especially as the silence stretched. I wasn’t sure if I should be more ashamed about Neil, or about running when he’d tried to speak to me. Either way, I was not eager to be called out for my childish behavior.

Why had he approached me?

This was just…mean.

Wasn’t it?

He had to know I was embarrassed. Was he here to make fun of me? Sure, he’d been…somewhat kind earlier, but that didn’t negate the fact that his presence was ambiguous at best. If I had been in his shoes—and what a pair of shoes they were, damn—I would absolutely not be terrorizing the poor dildo-yeeting man. I genuinely could not understand his motivation.

Up close, Mr. Armani’s smell was tantalizing. Like sandalwood and crushed up money. It was the type of scent that belonged between the pages of a smutty romance novel—not here, in my very real life. Underneath the layer of cologne was an underlying musk of sexy-man sweat—which made sense, seeing as he’d crossed the terminal, same as I had.

It was infuriating.

Peeking through my lashes at his legs manspreading beside mine, I was forced to come to the conclusion that hemustbe an asshole. No one smelled that good and sat like that if they weren’t.

He was enjoying watching me squirm.

Mr. Armani shifted until the heat of one of his supple,gloriousthighs pressed snug against mine. It was nearly a rub, and the simple brush made the hair on my arms stand on end. I snapped my knees together, practically pinching my balls to get away.

Was he doing this macho-posturing thing to intimidate me?

Why?

He leaned over, his bulk even more distracting the closer he became.

“Hi again, Georgie.” His breath tickled the shell of my ear, and I had the oddest urge to reach up and slap him away like he was a petulant fly. The stranger’s tone was chipper now and just as devastatingly attractive as it’d been earlier.

Time screeched to a halt.

There was only his voice, my name, and the weight of his body leaning into mine.

And theeeeen, the panic set in.

It took me less than two seconds to leap from my seat without a word. I tripped over my backpack, and decided to abandon it in retaliation. There was no time to right its topple as I fled across the hall and into the men’s restroom.

The entire walk of shame, I could feel those same infuriating eyes on me.

Why the fuck did I run away?

How childish can you be, George?

Christ.

I splashed my face a few times, hoping to clear my head. It was only when my flush had faded beneath chilly droplets of water, and I’d stopped gawking at my own panicked expression that it finally struck me what had really been odd about that whole interaction.

He’d known my name.

How the hell had heknown my name?

A man finished peeing in the urinal behind me. He flushed, and with an oddly demure sniff, walked over to me only to completely bypass the sink and exit the doors without washing his hands. Disgust nearly overwhelmed my confusion.

No, no.

Focus on the problem at hand, George.

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