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One

Holt

“Watch where you’re going”

I quirk a brow at the man who just bumped my shoulder He reads y just as I switch my brown leather briefcase to the other hand — et a hand free for one It’s up to him

The starsI know, he’s scurrying to the other side of the partition that separates us

It crosses o the hassle of airports altogether if I’d just give in and buy a private jet Oliver, one ofthe idea It’s not the money It’s the pretentiousness of it all Unless you’re flying weekly or have n you need attention It’s thea cherry red sports car, and I have no trouble getting attention without an overpriced toy

Turning the corner, I’ to be onlate when I collide head-on with another body

“Ah!”

A flurry of gauzy fabric and long, tobacco-colored hair go tu in front of ainst the cheap linoleum of the breezeway, and my eyes feast on the beauty bent on one knee in front of me

She picks up an array of iteraceful Scents of her perfuh the air

She looks up, her blue eyes in stark contrast to the dark hair that sweeps below her elbows Her fair cheeks pink as she watches h her strands as her full lips, a pale red, begin to part

Holy Shit

Travelers scamper around our diversion, but they’re no more than a blip on my radar I’ether that are laid, so beautifully, so exquisitely, in front of me