Page 17 of The Disasters of Dating (Love Connections #6)

KEATON

As an adventurer, embrace traveling on the highway called life.

Learn Chinese: 家庭 — Jiātíng — Family

I’m looking at my phone as I’m sitting, waiting to deplane. The aisles are full of people going nowhere fast. I can’t help the smile that stretches across my face. Every time I read my text thread with Poppy, I smile. I may or may not have read it enough to have it memorized. Don’t judge.

I didn’t dare text her today. I mean, I’m trying to scale back on the creepy. I think that giving her a few days is necessary for her to not think that I’m, indeed, phishing her.

Although I think some might argue that is exactly what I’m doing.

I’m trying to get information from her. Just not of the financial kind.

More the personal kind—her likes and dislikes.

Things like that. Ugh, that sounds terrible.

There is a twist in my stomach that tightens whenever I think about this path I’ve taken.

Where do I hope it will lead? What do I hope to gain from becoming friends with her over text?

Eventually we’ll have to meet, won’t we?

And then what? Will she sever all ties once she realizes who I am?

“Sir? Do you need assistance off the plane?”

I look over to see a flight attendant staring at me.

The plane is empty now. I’ve been looking at the text string for that long.

I stand up and shake my head. “No, I’m good. Just a little distracted. Sorry.”

She smiles at me. “No problem. Let me know if I can assist you with anything.”

“Thanks, I think I’m good.” I grab my suitcase from the overhead bin and walk down the aisle. The other flight attendants give me a look. I’m not sure what they are thinking, and I don’t really care.

I step into the terminal of the Salt Lake City Airport and look around to get my bearings. I grin when I realize that The Wandering Reader is on my way out of the airport. I took all the packs of gum out of my bag in case I needed an excuse to stop in and see her.

I run a hand through my hair and shake my head. “Dude, you are so lame.”

“Excuse me?” A man next to me gives me a stink eye. “What did you just say?”

I point to my opposite ear where I still have my earbud in from the plane. I’m not actually listening to it, but he doesn’t need to know that.

He leans around to see the earbud and then stomps away from me.

That was a close one. Perhaps I should call myself names in my thoughts only from now on.

I slow my steps as I get closer to The Wandering Reader. I peer inside, and Poppy happens to look up at that exact moment.

She smiles and I smile back. It’s a real Hallmark movie moment. Cheese and all.

She lifts a hand and waves. She wouldn’t do that if she didn’t want to talk to me, would she? Or maybe she’s hoping if she waves, I’ll wave back and move on my way. Crap, I’m not sure what to do here.

She moves out from behind the desk. She’s wearing a long, flowy skirt and a boho-style top. Very similar to what she wore when we went to dinner last week. Only the colors are darker this time. Was it because she remembered I was coming into town and was protecting her clothing, just in case?

“Hey, Keaton.” She smiles wider as she comes up to me. My flight is late enough that the crowd in the shop isn’t as big as earlier in the day. Meaning, I’m the only other person here.

“Hey, Poppy.” I swallow and stare at her.

But then I realize I’m staring, so I glance over to the gum.

What is it with me and gum? I don’t even chew that much of it.

I would far prefer a mint or something less obnoxious.

And yet, I’m drawn to the gum here. What does that say about me?

Great, I’m back to psychoanalyzing myself again.

Maybe it’s something with the airport that brings it out in me.

She follows my eyes. “Do you really need gum? You had several packs last week. You must chew it a lot if it’s already gone.”

I lick my lips. “No, actually. I was thinking about grabbing some Altoids or something like that.”

She grins. “You aren’t planning any sneak attacks, are you?”

“Sneak attacks?” I look at her with confusion.

“Yeah, you know, Altoids, Tic Tacs, any of those types of things make a lot of noise when you walk or move with them on you.”

I realize what she’s talking about, and I laugh. “I’ll make sure to leave them in my hotel. I don’t want a J. Peterman incident at work.”

She grins and pulls her bottom lip between her teeth. Oh. My. Heck. It’s adorable!

I frown slightly. What guy uses the word “adorable” not as a joke? I’ll think about that one later.

“So,” I pause. Where was I going with this?

I want to ask her out, even though I’m sure she’ll decline—she has rules, apparently.

But you only miss the shots you never take, right?

“Do you work every night?” I ask as I look at the selection of mints.

I think her rejection might be easier to take if I’m not looking directly at her. I hitch my backpack up on my shoulder.

“Normally my only days off are Mondays and Fridays. But I’m on break before the semester starts. So I’m only working Friday and Saturday this week.” I feel like it’s in my favor if she’s telling me her schedule.

I glance at her. “And Sunday?”

She smiles. “Yeah. I work most Sundays.”

I nod as though she has just explained Newton’s Theory of Relativity, and I’m internalizing it.

“Maybe we can grab some lunch or dinner on one of your days off?” I swallow.

I’m sounding a little pushy. She’s on break, so she probably has all of her evenings planned.

I clear my throat. “Or maybe breakfast on Thursday?” What am I saying?

Could I sound more desperate? I may as well start crying and beg her to go out with me.

Please, please go on a date with me. I don’t think it’s possible to sound more lame.

She straightens the shelf next to the mint selection.

“Well, I do still owe you an apology meal.” Is that the only reason she’s open to the idea?

She still feels guilty? She’s the one who still has faint coloring around her eye and on her forehead.

I think I’m the one who should have the complex still .

“I’m pretty flexible. My mom and I usually do something on my first night off. But you probably have a tougher schedule to work around than I do.” She glances at me from the corner of her eye. “So I can reschedule with my mom if I need to.”

I’m going to choose to believe that she thinks I’m special? Cool? Interesting enough for her to break her rule. “How about if I text you tomorrow? I’ll have a better idea of my schedule while I’m here.”

“When do you fly out?”

“Friday morning,” I lie. I’m actually scheduled to fly out on Thursday night. But if Thursday is the only day we can go out, I’ll change my flight. I’m sure Evan won’t object. I’ll work late on Friday night to make up the time.

I pause for a second. When was the last time I bent over backwards for a date with a girl? I blink in thought. Never. I can honestly say I have never gone to these lengths before.

I watch Poppy as she takes a rumpled blanket off the shelf and carefully refolds it to look like the others. What is it about her? I guess maybe that’s the key? I don’t know. But I want to.

I grab a pack of Altoids and a pack of Ice Breakers and place them on the checkout counter.

Poppy moves behind the register. She eyes my selections and then picks up the Altoids. “Cinnamon. Bold choice.” Is that admiration I see in her eyes?

I examine the mints. I’ve never had the cinnamon ones before. Am I going to regret that choice?

She picks up the wintergreen Ice Breakers. “I’m more of a cool mint kind of gal, but I can respect the wintergreen.”

I stare at her for a second. Is she critiquing my mint choices? “I bet you say that to all your mint buying customers.” I tip my head slightly to the side.

She grins. “Actually, I do. Not everyone appreciates it, though.”

My head shakes. “I don’t know why not. It seems like valuable information to have.”

She nods. “I know, right? Like I’d want to know if the cinnamon was super strong before I crack it open on a plane and then choke and cough for the next thirty minutes.”

My brows dip. “Is the cinnamon that strong?”

She grimaces and nods. “I think it is. It burns my tongue. Granted, I’m not a huge fan of spicy foods, so it may not bother you.”

I’m second guessing my Altoid choice. Maybe I should get the regular peppermint flavor. But then she might think I’m a complete marshmallow. I stick with the cinnamon to save face. I’m sure I can take it.

“You look like you can handle it,” she says with far more confidence than I’m feeling.

She rings them up, and I hand her a ten.

She holds it up to the light before sliding it into her drawer and counting out my change. I hold my hand out, and our hands brush as she puts the cash in my palm.

I feel sparks—no joke, actual sparks. If it were darker, I’m positive I would have seen them.

She jerks her hand back, and I wonder if she felt it too. “Enjoy your mints,” she says with a smile, and I want to kiss her again. But a real kiss this time.

Woah. I put on the brakes. Hold on there, Keat. Get to know her better . For all I know, she’s super clingy once she gets you into a relationship. Although I don’t get that vibe from her.

I lift them up like I’m toasting. I’m so lame when I’m around her. I hurry and tuck them into my backpack. “I’ll text you tomorrow, then?”

She nods. “I’ll wait with bated breath.”

“So will I,” I grin.

I’m sure she is being facetious, but I’m not.

If I didn’t think I’d look like a stalker or something, I would text her on my car ride to Lehi.

But as I’m taking the non-creepy approach to my dating life right now, I will instead count down the minutes until it’s socially acceptable to text her tomorrow.