Page 28 of Waiting for Acceptance (Nashville Nights #5)

LAUREN

God, I missed flying first-class. I may be a practical girl who likes to spend her money intentionally, but I think one of my intentions just became flying comfortably for the rest of my life.

The legroom alone is enough to sell me on it, not to mention the added bonus of only having one seat neighbor.

Speaking of which, mine smells as good as he looks and it’s taking everything in me not to press my nose into his chest just to savor the scent a little longer.

He smells the way you would imagine a man who looks like Fitz would smell—expensive and delicious.

“Can I get you anything to drink?” the stewardess asks, looking right past me at Fitz.

“Water please.” My face captions must be turned on because he gives me a sexy little smirk and grabs my hand. “Anything for you, Sweetheart?” Asshole. He knows I hate when he calls me that. I roll my eyes and feel him squeeze my hand, making me lift a brow at him. Daring him to challenge me.

“Same for me.” When we have our drinks I settle into my seat and turn to face Fitz. “Okay. We have a lot to discuss.”

“Such as?” He looks at me as he locks his phone and drops it into his lap. I can’t help but notice the gesture. Our first encounter, well what I thought was our first encounter, was me going off on him for being on his phone while someone was talking. I guess I got my point across.

“Well, our backstory for starters. It was very awkward when my mother started asking questions the other day and I had no idea what to tell her.”

“You told your mother about us already?” The look of shock on his face reminds me I never told him about the date I was supposed to go on the night I asked him to be my date to Taylor’s wedding.

“I kind of didn’t have a choice. Do you remember me mentioning the guy she and my father were trying to set me up with?

” He nods. “Well, I think she intended for him to escort me to Taylor’s wedding.

I never texted him back about the plans for that night and she showed up Sunday shortly after you left to let me know how rude it was.

So I had no choice.” I shrug and his eyebrows rise.

“Alright then. What did you tell her? So we can keep the story the same for everyone.” I scoff remembering how she responded when I used the phrase ‘hanging out’ in reference to what Fitz and I had been doing until things were official, but hating each other didn’t exactly feel like the right selling point.

“I just told her that we only recently made things official and that we’d been hanging out and then she cut me off and told me you probably worked at a Dairy Queen.” He laughs with his whole chest and it makes me smile.

“And what if I did? Does she not think I would be a good boyfriend and bring you enough free ice cream?” The sarcasm in his tone makes me laugh but I avoid answering.

“Anyways, that’s all I really told her before she left.” I shrug, realizing how sad it is that my own mother isn’t interested in the guy I’m seeing. Outside of thinking he has, what she considers to be, an unacceptable job.

“Okay well, we can work with that. But we have to say something other than hanging out . We aren’t fifteen.”

“Okay, well what do you suggest because talking isn’t much better either.”

“We just tell the truth,” he says, like it’s just the most obvious answer in the world.

“The truth? The truth is that we slept together 10 months ago, you started working with me, made my life a living hell for seven months and now we’re fake dating.”

“Okay, smartass, a half-truth. That we’ve been working together for a while and were interested in each other and now we’re dating.” I narrow my eyes.

“Fine. But you were interested first. And you had to win me over.” I tip my chin up and he leans over the armrest between us, making my heart skip a beat.

“Ah. Made me work for it, did you?” My eyes fall to his lips and I absentmindedly lick my own.

“That’s right.” He nods slowly, his lips turning down. Then he beckons me closer and I freaking lean in. We’re practically nose to nose and now his eyes are the ones to drop.

“And just how hard did I work for it?”

“Hmm. Decently hard . I’d say it took you at least three times to get it right. The first two just…mm, didn’t do it for me.” His glacier eyes ignite and I can’t help but be proud of myself for finally pressing his buttons. He takes a deep breath and his nostrils flare as he sits back in his seat.

“You’re very lucky this is all fake, Trouble.” He rubs his hand along his jaw and despite hardly being able to look away from his arms, I frown.

“Why?” He leans back in, his lips closer to my ear this time.

“Because if you were really mine, I’d fuck that bratty mouth of yours until you could recall that night properly.

” My heart hammers against my chest so hard I feel like it might jump out the window.

Then, before I have to scramble to say something to hide how flustered I’ve become, the overhead speaker dings and the crew begins going over the safety procedures.

I’ve flown plenty of times before so I don’t worry too much when I completely zone out during the informational portion but I’m reeled back in when I feel Fitz’s hands around my waist. I look down at the same time my seat belt clicks.

“Looked like you were a little…distracted. Safety first, Sweetheart. You’re not getting out of this that easily.”

“You think I would rather die in a plane crash than pretend to date you?” I level him with a stare.

Like, be so for real right now.

“Most days, yes.” I roll my eyes, pull my headphones out of my carry-on, and put them over my ears, staring straight at him without saying a word as I select today’s playlist. I smile when I look down to see Adele is up next on the mix.

Then I close my eyes and lean my head back on my seat.

Though I only get about two songs in before he does that godforsaken forehead tap thing again.

“I will bite your fingers off if you keep doing that.”

“That seems a bit dramatic, don’t you think?” I pull my headphones down and pause the song playing.

“What’s up?” He clears his throat and shifts in his seat.

“Well, while I’m glad we got our backstory covered, there are other things we should discuss.” I cross my legs, able to fully face him in this big-ass first-class seat.

“Like what?”

“Pretty much anything. We should probably get to know each other a little better, don’t you think?”

“I’d say I know you pretty well.” I give him an unamused smirk and he just nods.

“What’s my favorite food?”

“What?” I scoff.

“My favorite food, what is it?”

“That’s not fair. I know you in work ways. Not in friendly, personal ways.”

“What about my coffee order? Birthday? How long I’ve worked in real estate? Where I went to college?” I stare at him as he rambles off question after question that I don’t even kind of know. “These are all things a girlfriend would know, Trouble.”

“Okay fine. Point made. Do you want to go back and forth with the answers?” His brows draw together.

“What do you mean?”

“Like you tell me your coffee order then I tell you mine—well, apparently you already know mine—but for the other stuff, and we just go down the list like that until we’re very well acquainted.

We could put it in a shared note on my phone so we can look back if we forget.

” I pull my phone out of my bag and open my notes app as he studies me—his expression is one that I can’t quite read.

“Brown sugar oat milk shaken espresso. You won’t drink it if they forget the vanilla sweet cream cold foam, though they almost never forget.

Your birthday is September 5th. You graduated from UT with a marketing degree and got your realtor license while in college, interning at Coleson until they could hire you on full time.

You eat clean most of the time, chicken wraps, salads, or other rabbit-like food, at least for lunch, but then there are times when you’ll only eat tacos or a cheeseburger from the diner down the road. How am I doing so far?”

“What the fuck?” I am certain that was not supposed to actually come out of my mouth. “Why do you know all of those things? How do you know all of those things?”

“I pay attention.”

“To me?” I hate that I sound so surprised by the fact that someone has bothered paying attention to me. What I like. My routines.

“Yes, Trouble. To you.”

“Why?”

He ignores my question and continues talking.

“My favorite food is pizza. Specifically, this place called Milano’s—” He goes on telling me about the way no one makes pizza like them, and how he would kill for a slice of meat lovers with extra cheese.

My stomach is growling now but I’m still having trouble coming out of the haze of having someone tell me, so directly, that they pay attention to me.

“I’m taking you there as soon as we land,” he concludes.

Holy shit this man is passionate about pizza.

I absentmindedly nod and he lets out a dramatic sigh before grabbing my phone from my hands.

“Something tells me you’re not going to remember anything I’m saying right now.” He begins typing the details of his love of pizza and I roll my eyes.

“Meat lovers smothered in cheese and something about Bruschetta, I think.”

“I’m impressed. I only barely slipped that detail in.” He smirks and continues. “My birthday is June 25th?—”

“What! That’s like…soon!”

“It’s not a big deal. I don’t really celebrate my birthday, I just know it’s one of those facts couples seem to know about each other, so…” he trails off with a shrug.

“How come?”

“What?”

“How come you don’t celebrate your birthday?” I wrap my arms around my legs, hugging them closely to my chest.

“I used to. Just haven’t for a while.” I can tell he doesn’t really want to talk about it and for the sake of staying positive during this flight, I leave it alone.

Though I’m very curious why he doesn’t anymore .

Did something bad happen? Did he just grow out of the celebration?

Does he not have friends to celebrate with?

That doesn’t seem too far-fetched since he literally lives at work.

I mean, I do too but my friends were sealed to me in sixth grade so that’s a little different.

I grab my phone back from him and add his birthday to my calendar with a little heart next to it—very fake-girlfriend-esque of me. “Okay, I think I can take it from here. What else? Where did you go to school?”

He cracks a smile. “Um, Berkeley.”

“Shut up. No, you didn’t.” I drop my phone in my lap, thumbs hovering over the screen to add it to my notes—though I’m sure I’ll never forget that.

“You’re surprised?” he questions.

“Not surprised just… It had to be Berkeley?” I laugh and his eyes soften.

“Silver lining. I’m not an accountant,” he offers as reprieve, and my lips purse.

“But you could be, couldn't you?”

“What makes you say that?” I shrug and readjust my position again. God this is going to be a long flight if I’m already fidgeting.

“You just give off like…really smart guy vibes. Like, multi-major smart.”

“Is that the same as saying I have a good personality? Are you complimenting my intelligence while simultaneously insulting my appearance?” he teases

“Yeah, right.” I snort, immediately feeling my cheeks redden.

Maybe I will just jump out of a window.

The soft smile he gives me makes me relax a little then he pulls my headphones back up over my ears, leaving them open just enough so I can hear him say, “Get some rest, Trouble. We’ll be hitting the ground running when we land.

” Then he winks at me and pulls his phone back out, leaving me to my music.