Page 21 of The Best Men
That’s fine. It keeps us from talking.
When we reach the boarding area, there’s no line at our gate. “Perfect. I’m going to see about an upgrade for us,” he says.
I jerk my gaze to him. Is he speaking French again? “What for?”
“Well, you don’twantto fly coach, do you?” He says that like it’s preposterous.
I’ve never flown anything except coach. But it’s not like I want to say,hey I’m a first-class virgin. “You don’t have to spring for first class. I’m fine,” I say, assuring him, since I’m not flashy. I don’t need extras. I also have literally no clue what I’m supposed to say to a guy who wants to upgrade me, too.
Asher claps me on the shoulder, curling a hand over my muscle. “Banks, I might be an asshole sometimes. But I’m not a total ass.”
Tension blankets my body from the feel of his hand on me, and it’s joined by heat sizzling under my skin. Great. Just that touch and I’m lit up. “I’ll bite. How are you not a total ass?” I ask, trying to focus on what he’s saying, not how I’m feeling.
With a playful glint in his eyes, he says, “I’m not going to upgrade just myself. And I’m not going to fly coach if I don’t have to,” he says, then grins mischievously. “And I don’t have to. Ergo,wedon’t have to either.”
Wait! This is brilliant. This is an out. Three hours to escape from this rampant lust if I can wiggle away from his offer. “You should definitely do it, Asher. Live large. Enjoy yourself. But listen, I’m completely fine in coach. I sleep on planes anyway, so it’s not a problem for me to just crash the whole time.”
That’s a lie. I hate sleeping on planes. Your head falls to the side, your mouth lolls open, and you look stupid. But he won’t want to upgrade someone who’s just going to snooze the whole time.
“That sounds miserable. You’ll sleep better in first class.”
I try harder, upping my negotiation game. “Save the miles for yourself, and you can upgrade again the next time you go to Fiji or São Paulo or wherever.”
Asher shrugs. “This is why I have credit card miles in the first place.”
I want to find a reason to say no. Because him spending points on me—or money in the form of points—makes me uncomfortable. It’s a little too close to everything I’m trying to avoid with him. Nonetheless he’s already striding toward the gate agent, flashing the kind of smile that can probably charm the underwear off anyone, man or woman, in seconds.
His eyes stray to her name tag. “Hi, Karina I see your upgrade list has just enough room for two more.”
I roll my eyes so hard I nearly pull a muscle.
“Why, yes it does! Let me get you all situated.”
“That would be fantastic.”
A few minutes later, he wheels around, waggling his airline app like it’s the spoils of war. “And we’re in 3A and 3B.”
I wince, but do my best to show my gratitude. “Thanks. If I can repay the favor sometime, just ask.”
“Huh. Like you’ll help me with all those spreadsheets I’ve been dying to make?” he counters, zinging me once again.
This time I take the bait, and return to my deal-with-the-hottie approach. “Aww, you’re so sweet. Talking our love language.”
That makes him laugh. “And I believe the retort to that is . . .fuck you.”
Just like that, my mind is right back where it started.
* * *
Thirty minutes later, I slide my messenger bag under the seat in front of me, and park in a first-class seat for the first time.
It’s cushy, and spacious, and wow—this is a whole lot swankier than coach. Plus, the flight attendants treat us like kings, offering hot towels and asking if we need anything. This is a different country up here, and I love it more than I’d thought I would.
I’m a little bit like a kid at Christmas as I run my hands along the armrests and stretch out my legs.
Asher’s lips curve into a grin. “So you’re a first-class virgin, Banks?”
It’s that obvious? I swallow past the dry patch in my throat. “Yes. Thank you. That was really nice of you,” I say.
