Every Girl Does It(22)

“She doesn’t do well in small spaces,” Kristin answers as she gives me a pitiful look.

“Oh my gosh, Mrs. Butterworth!” Jumping out of my seat forgetting that my seatbelt is still attached, I notice people are staring.

“Easy, tiger,” Preston says as he helps unbuckle me. “And why are you yelling your cats name in first class? People are staring.” He whispers too close to my face if you ask me.

“I forgot to leave her food and water. She has to be going crazy on this flight. Do you think they’ll let me run down there and slip her something?” Asking this question must seal Preston’s assessment of my mental, or lack there of, stability. Preston’s expression is calculating, and I wonder if he thinks I actually am crazy.

“Um sure, Amanda, why don’t we just ask the pilot if you can go into the cargo storage while the plane is moving and feed your cat, sounds totally reasonable?” Sarcasm drips off his every word.

“I think I hate you.” I re-buckle my seatbelt.

“You do not. You just hate me for what I bring out of you.”

“Which is?” I snort.

“Honesty,” he answers smugly.

“I was honest enough before you came along,” I fire back.

He leans over the arm rest towards me making my heart feel like it’s going to jump out of my chest. Surely he can hear it. “You get frustrated easily.” He picks up his hand as if to brush my hair from my face and wipes next to my mouth leaving where he touched permanently tingly. “You had a little leftover bread.”

I then took the liberty of punching him square in the chest before turning toward the window in frustration. The pilot then came over the loud speaker letting everyone know we’d be landing within the next hour. Hold on, Mrs. Butterworth.




Chapter Nine



To say the plane ride was the longest of my life would be a gross understatement. I have two years worth of restless energy just waiting to explode, but I have no time to think of such things, especially since Mrs. Butterworth needs me.

I run to claim my small animal and nearly cry when I see her little crate. With great emotion, I pull it off the conveyor belt and set her free! Only wait, that’s not my cat. What the—I have just opened up the cage to a giant iguana. Where is Mrs. Butterworth?

“Mom, someone’s stealing Izzy!”

Spinning around to look at the little boy who was ratting me out, I find a large Hawaiian woman with a miu miu on glaring at me. “Give the boy his iguana and I won’t press charges.” The mom is now in my face. Beads of sweat pouring from her forehead as she leans in closer.

“Um.” I’m stammering. “I thought it was my cat, I’m so sorry I didn’t know. Here.” My words tumble out as I hand them the cage and continue to apologize as the little boy bursts into tears.

“She hurt him! Look he’s bleeding!” The boy is pointing at the iguana’s foot and tugging at his mom’s dress at the same time.

Oh. My. Gosh. I’m going to prison.

“Trouble?” I didn’t know Preston was that close to me until now. What does he think he’s going to do? Charm her to death?

“Mr. December!” The woman yells as she throws a camera at her small child and paws her way toward Preston. “Is it really you?”

Preston’s chuckles as he shoots me a “you’re welcome” glance and answers, “Why of course it is!”

The lady asks for his autograph, apologizes for the confusion when Preston explains to her that “yes, I’m sorry about my friend you see, she’s sick, she forgot to take her pills this morning and thinks every animal is her long lost cat”.

Then they both look at me with sad eyes before she answers, “Oh the poor dear, well here for your troubles.” And proceeds to hand him a box of chocolate covered macadamia nuts.

“Thank you, Sue,”

Oh great now they’re on a first name basis.

“It’s just hard sometimes when you love someone so much but they don’t know it.” Oh awesome, and now he’s fake crying. Perfect, shoot me now. She embraces him as he fake cries on her shoulder all the while giving me a thumbs up behind her back.

Sue, as he called her, leaves just in time for me to stomp up to him and raise my fist.

“Whoa there, careful where you bust those things out at,” he says pulling my hands down to my sides. Apparently, my hands are now weapons.

“Unbelievable,” I say pushing past him.

“What is?” He catches up to me.

“Your ability to sweet-talk anything wearing a skirt,” I say exasperated.

“So…” He steps in front of me, blocking my view of the conveyor belt. “Does that mean we’re excluding men? Because I’ve sweet talked my fair share of the male species, not that it’s something to brag about.” His smile is all together way too alluring for his own good.

“Curse you and your stupid fireman good looks,” I say, pointing my finger into his face.

He takes my finger and pulls me into a freakishly tight embrace. “Admit it, you kind of like me.” His lips are now inches from mine, causing me to do the double take between his eyes and his lips. Let’s be honest, every girl does it. It’s like the dance before the kiss happens the time when the eye contact goes from “hey I might kiss you” to “hey I’m going to kiss you’.