Page 1 of Not Your Girl
PROLOGUE
ELLIOT
SIX MONTHS AGO
“For fuck’s sake, is this really necessary?”
The voice startles me out of my thoughts as I grab my carry-on bag off the x-ray belt and shoulder my briefcase, tucking my phone into the outside pocket. It’s low and a little raspy, bringing to mind a dimly lit room and a big bed and sheets tangled around naked limbs. Or it would, if the voice wasn’t dripping with irritation and barely concealed disdain.
The owner of the voice is standing at a low table, her back to me, one hand on her hip and her foot tapping on the polished concrete floor. With her other hand, she shoves a waterfall of dark hair back behind her shoulder and then rests her hand on the metal table. Her fingers twitch, as if she’s considering grabbing the suitcase lying open in front of her and making a run for it.
“Ma’am, I’m going to need you to be patient and let me do my job.” The gray-haired TSA agent gives her a stern look and proceeds to sift through the suitcase’s contents with his gloved hands.
“Patient?” she scoffs. “Sir, I’ve been patient all day today. I was patient while I waited in a forty-minute security line because somehow the day I travel is the day there are no PreCheck lanes open. I was patient when I had to take off my shoes and take my electronics out of my bags, even though having PreCheck means I pay for the privilege of having to do neither of those things. And I was patient when I had to go through the metal detector ten times because I guess that guy over there forgot how to work it even though it’s literally his job.” She waves the hand on her hip in the general direction of the metal detector. “And I was patient when you subjected me to what basically amounts to a strip search simply because I forgot I had a water bottle in my bag. But right now, you have your hands on my good underwear, and for the first time since I stepped into this nightmare of an airport ninety minutes ago, I find myself fresh out of patience.”
I’m unable to stop the laugh that falls from my throat at this girl’s sass, and at the TSA agent staring at her slack-jawed, clearly unused to being talked back to. The girl whirls around, leveling me with a glare. But it’s not the glare that stops me in my tracks and has my heart thudding against my ribs.
It’s her.
Beautiful isn’t a strong enough word for what she is. Stunning. Ethereal. Breathtaking. Exquisite. I suddenly wish I had done my PhD in English instead of computer science just so I would know more words so I could find the right one to describe her. Her brown hair flows down her back in waves and her black leggings skim every curvy inch of her perfect legs. Her pink sweater makes her face glow under the bright airport lights. I’m far enough away from her that I shouldn’t know that herbrown eyes are flecked with green and gold or that she smells like sunshine in the spring—and yet, I do.
It’s heart reaching out to heart.
Soul recognizing soul.
I don’t know her but it’s like Iknowher.
My analytical mind doesn’t believe in stuff like this. And yet.
My brain is a runaway train, and I don’t even know her name.
“Can I help you?” Her voice rips me out of my head and back into consciousness.
“Huh?” I ask, barely resisting the urge to shake my head to try and reorder my thoughts into something less than obsession with a complete stranger.
“Can. I. Help. You.” she enunciates, staring at me like I have completely lost my mind, which, I mean, maybe. “You laughed and now you’re staring at me in a way makes me wonder if I should tell this grumpy TSA agent right here with his hands full of my underwear that I’m about to be kidnapped or something.”
I blink, shifting my briefcase from one shoulder to the other because I suddenly have no idea what to do with my hands. My brain is clearly melting down because what I want to do is touch her but even in my addled state, I know that’s extreme creeper territory. This time I do shake my head.
“I’m so sorry,” I mumble. “It’s not you, I was just thinking about something. Work. Yeah, work. I was thinking about work, and I got distracted. So. Anyway. I’ll go now. Sorry. Good luck with your underwear.”
The mystery woman shakes her head and laughs at my rambling, turning back to the TSA agent and her open suitcase. I stare at her back for a few seconds, her laugh playing in my head like a song on repeat, and then make the most counterintuitive move of my life, heading out of the security area and away from the girl who stopped my heart and forced the breath from my lungs.
The last thing I hear as I walk away is her voice saying, “Okay boss man, have you fondled my underwear enough, or do we need to keep going?”
I laugh despite myself and head towards my gate, my thoughts fixed on my mystery girl the whole way there.
I scan my boarding pass, barely even acknowledging the gate agent working the flight. My head is on a swivel, eyes roving the dense airport crowd for dark hair and a pink sweater, ears perked for a raspy voice. With a crowd of people behind me waiting to board the full flight, I have no choice but to make my way down the jetway with the odd feeling that I’m leaving something behind.
My phone dings with a text just as I’m settling into my first-class seat.
Noah
[picture of Killer with tail wagging and giant blue crystal in her mouth]
Noah
Cece was here.
