Page 63 of Winging It with You

“Marcus?” I ask, narrowing my eyes and crossing my fingers that’s correct.

He wheels his carry-on effortlessly toward us, his eyes locked on me and me alone.

“How’ve you been, stranger?” he asks, now directly in front of me. “You haven’t made a stop in Denver in ages.”

Asher looks up from his book, curiosity written all over his face, and he doesn’t have to say anything for me to knowexactlywhat he’s thinking.

“Yeah, I’ve been mainly on East Coast and international flights these days.”

Marcus looks me up and down, and I can see that samedown for anythingenergy simmering beneath the surface from when we first met. It’s what first drew me to him.

He was, and clearly still is, always down for no strings attached.

“That’s a shame,” he says, and his gaze shifts to Asher and then back to me. “Hit me up next time you’re in town, handsome.”

Before I can respond, he’s gone, sauntering off in his too-tight pants and overflowing confidence.

I sneak a glance at Asher.

Marking the spot in his book with his airline ticket, he sets his book down and turns slightly in my direction.

“Are you hungry?” I ask, digging out the bag of trail mix I bought earlier from my backpack. I extend it in his direction. He eyes it skeptically but accepts my offer anyway, pouring out a handful of the sweet-and-salty snack into his open palm.

“Thanks,” he murmurs, plopping a few cashews into his mouth after handing the bag back to me.

“That was nothing, by the way,” I say, out of obligation or maybe a hint of insecurity. I don’t want him to think differently of me.

He smirks. “Hedefinitely wanted it to be something.”

“Fair enough,” I say, not being able to deny Marcus’s obvious intentions. “But please know that for me, it was nothing.”

Asher turns to face me head-on now. “This is all kinda your thing, huh?”

“My thing?”

“I mean, Theo…look howwemet. You wasted no time swooping in like some well-practiced knight in shining armor at the airport.”

“Hold on just a minute, sir.” I’m not going to let him get away with skewing realitythatmuch. “If I recall, you were the one who was in desperate need of a partner and was practically begging me to go along on this adventure with you. What was I supposed to do? Completely blow you off?”

“The begging doesn’t sound familiar…” he says, an eyebrow cocked, but he smiles anyway, leaning back in his seat. “I’m forever grateful that you didn’t. Truly. But then everything that followed—the flirty banter, the nonstop charm, that grin…”

I lean forward in my own seat. “What grin?” I ask, hoping whatever smile I’m doing my best to plaster across my face is the one he’s referring to.

“That,” Asher says, shaking his head and pointing at me. “That right there is what I’m talking about. Normal people can’t just turn it on and off like you can.”

There’s something about his word choice that irks me more than it probably should.

“Hmm” is all I say, trying to tell myself he probably meant nothing by it.

“What?” he asks, a sudden uncertainty now swirling behind his eyes.

Normal. I can feel the blood thump its way to my ears as that word ricochets around and around my skull. “It just sounds like,” I say, turning my head in his direction, intentionally locking eyes with him, “you’re implying I’mnotnormal.”

I’m doing a piss-poor job at pretending I’m fine.

Concern floods his face as he attempts to backpedal. “No…I didn’t…”

I’m suddenly on my feet. “It’s fine, Asher. I get it…” But I really don’t. “You’ve got me all figured out.”

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