Page 6 of Holiday Romance
“Mm-hm. You’re from one ofthosefamilies.”
He only looks amused at my suspicion. “Those families?”
“The ones in the commercials. Matching pajamas. Roaring fire.”
“Unashamedly. I’m going to guess you’re not?”
“Like I said, not big Christmas people.” I frown when he continues to watch me, a new glint in his eye that immediately puts me on edge. “What?”
“Nothing. Just thinking about what I can do to make you a fan of the most wonderful time of the year.”
“How about not saying things like that for a start?”
He grins. “I’m going to change your mind about this.”
“Confident thing, aren’t you?”
“Of course I am. So confident that I bet you I will change your grinch-like mind by the end of this flight.”
“An actual bet?” I press my lips together, fighting back a smile. “How much are we talking?”
“One million—”
“Onedollar,” I say, lifting a finger. “And you should know that I’m extremely competitive.”
“And you should know that I may look innocent, but I’m not above playing dirty.”
“Innocent, huh?”
He gestures vaguely to his face. “I’ve got the whole boyish thing going on, I know my strengths.”
I laugh at that, and he brandishes the fake birthday card between us. “Now,” he says. “Do you want to see how much free stuff we can get out of this or what?”
His phone vibrates on his lap before I can respond, making me jump. Sometime during the last few minutes, we’ve both turned completely toward each other, and my stomach drops like we just hit turbulence when I see who’s calling. I’d somehow forgotten all about Hayley as we’d talked, but now she screams her way back to the front of my mind as Andrew brings the phone to his ear, not noticing my panic.
“It’s Hayley,” he says as my pulse starts to race. “She’s been studying so much; I didn’t even get to see her before I left.” He turns to the front, smiling broadly. “Hey, babe! You’ll never guess who—”
I snatch the phone from his hand before I can think, pressing the button to end the call.
Silence. Awkward, awkward silence for the longest second as Andrew just stares at me. And then: “What the f—”
“You shouldn’t answer your phone when we’re flying.”
“We haven’t started moving yet,” he says slowly. “The doors are still open.”
“It can still affect the system.”
His mouth opens and closes, all traces of joking vanished. “Can I have my phone back?” he asks eventually.
I think about saying no. About saving him from what I know is about to happen even at the expense of me acting like a weirdo. He’s a nice guy. A nice, festive guy and if this has to happen I don’t want it to happen when he’s just spent ten minutes harping on about Christmas. But the unimpressed look on his face tells me he’s about to call for security and I would really,reallylike to not get arrested.
“Right. Sorry.” I hand it back to him. “I’m a nervous flyer.”
“…Okay?” He turns away from me as much as he can in the small space, but I don’t let up.
“So that bet, huh? You were going to convince me?”
“Look,” he begins, but the phone buzzes again and we both look down to see a message flash up on his screen. I think I’m about to be sick.
