Every Girl Does It(43)

“Clock's ticking, buddy,” I say impatiently. Immediately I realize the irony and hope he didn't catch it. No such luck.

“Oh, pardon me. Do you have somewhere you need to be?” he asks, mocking me.

“Fine, sorry,” I mutter.

“Even though you’ve insulted me gravely, tried to maim and sometimes kill me, I find that I’ve fallen for you.” He looks up to meet my eyes with an intense gaze of his own, which sends my heart fluttering like it did during our first kiss. “You’re aggravating, insulting, brave, hilarious, menacing, and well, a little insane.”

“Point taken.”

“But,” he says holding up his finger. “You’re adventurous, loving, outgoing, caring, and hilarious. I mean, you’re in jail and all, because you threatened to kill me for lying to you. Talk about keeping a guy accountable. I think about the adventures we’ve had over the past four days, and I can’t imagine having a normal day ever again as long as I know you.”

I’m trying to decide if he’s insulting me or complimenting me. Either way, the fluttering is back, and all I want to do is kiss him. I want to kiss him because nobody has ever made me so angry and so happy all at once. The feelings are intoxicating, choking out any previous desire to maim him.

“So…” He looks so adorable and innocent. “Angelina,” he laughs. “What do you think?”

Darn, I thought for sure he was going to propose. But then again, it would be awkward telling all my church friends my future husband and I got engaged in a Maui prison. Then again those who know me well would just be like, “Oh right, okay. That makes sense.”

“I think…I want to stay,” I find myself saying, and I actually mean it. I want to stay and I want to be with him forever. Only he already knows I’m in love with him on account of my incessant blabbing earlier this week when I thought he was leaving me. Perfect. How romantic of me.

"Great!" he says, clapping his hands together. "I was hoping you'd say that."

Oh my gosh. He loves me so much. I could tell by the way he was hoping I’d stay. I mean, come on—

"It would have been super expensive to reschedule our plane tickets for today," he says, interrupting my thoughts.

"Wow, you’re the epitome of romance," I snarl at him, not realizing I have no room to talk, considering I somehow got myself arrested. But let’s review, it really wasn't my fault. Just saying.

"Amanda, you’re going to have to improve your attitude if you want me to spring you from this place," he teases, motioning for the officer to unlock the doors.

"Oh, um, I'm sorry, are you threatening me?" I ask, smiling innocently on the outside but sweating on the inside. You know, if that was like...possible.

"Pretty sure if I threaten you, I’ll somehow offend you again, leaving you no choice but to take it further. Because, let’s face it, that’s just what you do. And somehow I feel we would, yet again, find ourselves in a prison, or getting kicked off a plane, or out of the country," he says, looking up as if that was inevitable if he chooses a life with me.

"Yeah, I get it," I snap, cutting him off and sticking my tongue out at him again.

The guard shakes his head, then opens the gate. "I'm free, I'm free!" I yell throwing my hands into the air. The problem with flailing like that is I wasn't totally aware of the close proximity of the guard. So, naturally, I knocked him square in the face. His nose only bled for like five seconds, but it’s enough for Preston to shoot me a pensive if-you-get-yourself-thrown-back into-jail-I’m-not-getting-you-out glare. I apologize several times before Preston has to physically lift me off the floor and carry me out. Again, so romantic. I punch him while he’s carrying me, but it’s no use. The man is solid, and I’m a pesky little girl fighting her way through pounds of muscle.

"Oh, wow, did you tucker out already?" He teases as he puts me down on my feet.

"I'm not a child," I say loudly enough for a little boy and his mom to stare, then walk away fast. The mother also had her hands over the kid’s eyes. Please, like I’m more indecent than TV.

I lift my hand in protest, getting ready to argue my point to the hovering mother, when Preston puts his hand over my mouth.

"No."

"But," I argue.

"No."

"But," I say again. I mean, come on, at least let me explain myself.

Instead, he gives me one of Kristin’s famous glares. I roll my eyes and grab his hand. "Where are we off to? The hotel? The beach? Food? OOOO let’s get food!" I yell rather loudly. Apparently being locked up in a prison makes you want to yell. I wonder if this is how people feel when they spend the night in jail, like their whole lives have a renwed purpose. Well, actually, I don’t have any new visions of the future. I just find prison makes my stomach feel empty.

Preston, still staring at me, smiles widely before answering, "I think it's best we go to the hotel to get you cleaned up, and possibly have a late, late, late dinner, considering it’s around nine already."

"Oh, wow. It is late. Weird. I thought I’d been in there a whole day," I say dramatically shaking my head.

"Please, Amanda. It was like ten minutes, and it was only that long because I had to explain to them exactly why you were making death threats toward me."