What a Girl Wants (12 page)
The pilot’s voice comes on the air.
Oh, I hope he’s not a talker
. “Good afternoon, ladies and gentleman. I’m sorry to say that we’ve had a breach of airline security, and we need you to exit the plane for another thorough search. Please take all of your belongings with you.” Then they repeat the message in another language.
The whole plane is still sitting there, unable to believe the two hours we’ve just endured is not enough security. Eventually, one passenger stands and then exits, and soon we all follow. Out in the airport lobby they have brought special mobile units and we are all asked to put our carryons flat on a table and let them rifle at will. Once we are rechecked, they put us in a separate cordoned-off area and we wait as the plane gets its own thorough search.
Now I’m really praying and lamenting that I missed church. I’m not much of a flyer, and the idea that dogs are searching my plane for possible terrorist activity is making me a little tense.
My face tightens and I can feel the lines etching deep into the tissue. The indentation between my brows is definitely getting deeper. My mind immediately goes to the possibility of Botox. Am I too young to use it? As I stand here feeling my wrinkle, I notice Kevin Novak finish up at the security table. My heart does a little flip and all my terrorist fears evaporate, knowing God wouldn’t let anything happen to Dr. Novak. He obviously has great work ahead of him. I hate that I’m attracted to him. It’s like being attracted to Matthew McConaughey.
Good luck.
And do you really want a guy prettier than you? Looking past all that, we have the unyielding knowledge of a girlfriend.
Most tacky.
Kevin heads toward me and, if I didn’t know better, I’d swear I watch it in slow motion. Is there music playing? I see his angular face break into a wide grin and he is definitely starring in my own music video
. It’s a power ballad. Something by Matchbox 20.
Kevin emits a presence that commands attention and my peripheral vision tells me that all eyes go to him. My own are riveted. His eyes are a deep shade of green, like something in a darkened forest. Mysterious and dramatic all at once. I look away as I realize he’s seen me, and I’m staring as though I’m invisible, but I’m more than obvious. I must consciously take control of my tongue, which might fall out of my mouth and drip drool like a bull mastiff.
I suck in my tummy and wave coquettishly. I am a world traveler. Confident member of the California bar. Just check out the expensive Kenneth Cole briefcase if you don’t believe me. Its soft, supple leather has Success written all over it. If I saw myself from afar, I wouldn’t even know I’d been dumped like last week’s trash for his very own girlfriend.
“Ashley!” He remembers my name.
Remain calm, do not jump
up and down
. But it’s as good as Hugh Jackman himself remembering my name.
“Kevin, hi. I heard you might be on this flight.” I try to avoid the girlish thoughts, like that it’s fate he’s on this flight, that we had to empty the plane and meet, etc. One too many chick flicks in my mind, I tell myself. Business between Taiwan and Silicon Valley is constant, and there’s one plane out of SFO today.
Total coincidence,
nothing more.
“Let’s hope we’re all on this flight eventually.” He shakes his head, and these sexy lines around his eyes appear. Maybe he’s not as young as I thought. He’s even better this close up, like a Roman sculpture or other priceless work of art. God outdid Himself on Kevin. Right now I’m sure it was just to torture me.
I laugh at his little joke, and it doesn’t sound forced. The angels must be smiling upon me today. I am no longer a member of the band; right now I am head cheerleader.
“Did you get to say goodbye to Arin? I assume she’s off on her rain forest trip.”
Ugh. Bringing up the girlfriend is not a great move.
It will force his mind to her cute, non-existent waist. I am now Amazon woman once again. But at least I’m an honest, godly Amazon.
Kevin’s face clouds, and I feel hope fester in my stomach like a natural hot spring. “I’m afraid that Arin and I said goodbye permanently before her trip. That day I saw you in the Fountain Creamery, in fact.” Kevin looks around at the people in the waiting area. It gives me a chance to study his face, which is angular yet gentle. I wonder if his heart isn’t too trusting, too sweet to hold up under a woman like Arin. Together they emit far too much charm. It’s better to split up such energy. I think Einstein was working on that theory when he died.
“I’m sorry about you and Arin,” I say, thinking back to my schoolgirl fantasies about their breakup. Did my dark thoughts cause it? This is the part where he tells me he’s done with young airheads, and that this trip to Taiwan together is a sign, but I touch back down to reality quickly. “Arin is a free spirit,” I offer in hopes of lifting his mood.
“A free spirit? That’s a nice way of saying responsibility is not her strong suit.” Kevin crosses his arms. They aren’t brawny by any means, but they aren’t thin and gangly either. He’s got a good solid build on him, but his strong jaw line makes his whole look powerful and athletic. He’s definitely out of my league. I hate that. I also hate that balding engineer Seth is out of my league. Maybe I should be looking in Florida like my brother suggested. Maybe my league is the Sun City Retired Baseball team.
“Arin’s lucky in a way. I wish responsibility wasn’t my
only
strong suit.” My voice turns wistful. “I admire Arin for her ability to snub what we all think we should do to follow her heart. I wish I could do it just once.” I look at the plane out the window. “I wish I could do it right now.”
And then it dawns on me in all seriousness. I could do it right now. I could bail on this plane flight, spend the week at the beach and find myself an apartment. I start to psyche myself up, my heart is pounding, I’m breaking a sweat thinking about dissing the rules. Kevin is obviously concerned over my quiet roiling thoughts, and he lifts my furrowed face up with his thumb. My stomach bursts with fireworks and I can’t bear to tear my gaze from those evergreen eyes that draw me in like the warmth of a dewy morning in the redwoods. Everything in his expression says he’s going to kiss me. This is too weird. My heart is in my throat. I can feel him getting closer to me, and I feel tingly and fantastic, like I’m having the best spa massage of my life. But Kevin stops just inches from my face and whispers.
“Leaving the airport isn’t like you, Ashley. It’s like Arin.”
I swallow hard.
Ouch.
“And that’s not a good thing?”
“Not if you’re driven by more than what suits you for the present moment. You seem to want to satisfy a higher purpose than your own immediate desires.”
But currently, I’m only thinking about my immediate desires and how I want this man to kiss me and make me all tingly inside. It’s like the most luscious tiramisu and flourless chocolate cake all rolled into one great emotion. Kevin clears his throat and pulls back ever so slightly, but enough to know my hopes of PDA (public display of affection, not the personal data assistant) have evaporated like a cumulus cloud.
“What business do you have in Taiwan?” he asks.
I straighten my posture and wonder if I have just imagined the last few minutes. I would have bet my life that Dr. Kevin Novak felt something stirring within him. That we shared a
moment.
But then, I’ve been hanging out with engineers for ten years now. Kevin is probably only recovering from indigestion.
I clear my throat. “I’m serving papers on a company that’s stealing our product patent. But it’s really about negotiation and getting some cash for our patent.” I stop in the middle of my very businesslike tone, and stare out the window again toward the plane. “Kevin, wouldn’t it be great to just leave the airport and not fly to Taiwan?”
Kevin raises his eyebrows. “And do what?”
“I don’t know.” I shrug. “Tour San Francisco in a loud floral shirt, hop on a ferry and see the galleries in Sausalito, mountain bike in the Marin headlands, wear a Walkman and dance on a cable car, order a Diet Coke at the Top of the Mark.”
“So
why
don’t you do all those things if you would enjoy them?” Kevin asks me.
I sigh, a loud, troubled sort of sigh. “Because I’m the responsible one. If I suddenly act like my brother, or Arin, the world as we know it will cease to exist.”
“I know what you mean,” Kevin says, his green eyes losing their sparkle. “Let’s do it anyway. Take care of our responsibilities and then play. On Wednesday, I come back from Taiwan. What about you?” His voice is building with excitement, and suddenly I’m swept up in the moment, forgetting I have a horrible ride on an international flight with security issues.
“Thursday at 8:30 a.m.,” I announce.
“Thursday. I’ll meet you at the Top of the Mark at noon for drinks and lunch. It will help you get back on schedule sooner. We’ll take the cable car to the Wharf, hop a ferry, tour the galleries, and save the mountain biking for another day.”
I think about my apartment, or lack thereof, and the wedding shower, and all the items on my to-do list. But I throw caution to the wind. Heck, I threw out the violet bra, that’s something I accomplished. And a gorgeous young doctor is asking me to step out of my box. It doesn’t get any plainer than this. If I’m ever going to have a season, the time is now.
Please just let me enjoy this moment, God. It doesn’t have to mean
anything. Just let me pull myself out of this bog.
I clasp my eyes shut, knowing I’m gambling with my feelings here. Kevin is not the kind of man you can casually meet. He is Colin Firth, Hugh Jackman, and Vin Diesel all wrapped into one magnificent package with an M.D. at the end.
“Let’s do it,” I say.
They’ve just announced our flight is ready to board again. Kevin is beside me, and he’s picked up my bag. As he smiles down at me, I feel that spark again. Sixteen hours is suddenly feeling like a brief blip in time. For once, my life is looking up.
M
y heart is still racing as I fasten my seatbelt and ignore the flight attendant’s droning instruction on performing this task. Does anybody truly not understand the concept of a seatbelt? Surely they can’t afford plane fare, can they?
Kevin is now sitting beside me; my first seatmate has traded seats with him. See? They get it in Taiwan. An American engineer would never notice I had a friend. The anxiety I feel over takeoff is drastically diminished by knowing that if I die, I go out in style beside a gorgeous doctor who might have shared a moment with me. Not a bad way to go, right? Besides, he’s a Christian. We could float up together. How romantic is that, like
Somewhere in Time
for believers. I smile at Kevin, wondering if he can read my thoughts. I’m not exactly the coy type. I’m about as transparent as Saran Wrap.
I grasp Kevin’s hand as the plane climbs into the air. I never did like this part. Kevin’s hands are smooth and masculine with long squared fingers. He has the hands of a surgeon, beautiful and incredibly skilled at the same time. While looking at them, I miss the parting view of San Francisco and its magnificent Golden Gate Bridge.
“You weren’t at church today,” Kevin says as we reach cruising altitude.
Hey, we’re not dead,
I suddenly realize
. The plane did not blow
up on takeoff. This is good. This is very good.
“No, I didn’t want to miss my flight. If I’d have known we were going to be late, I could have gone to both services.” I laugh, but he doesn’t break a smile.
Kevin is a bit austere, I’m noticing. In fact, I’m thinking if I was back in high school, I might have said he . . . well, never mind. I wouldn’t say that now. I might acknowledge that he has Kohlitis—not colitis like the bad disease, but Kohlitis named for Sequoia High’s most popular girl, Kohli Cahners.
Brea and I came up with a groundbreaking theory that people who were gorgeous their entire life, like Kohli, never had to develop a personality. This is why so many Hollywood movie stars must resort to plastic surgery and creepily, never age—if they look ugly, people will know they never had a personality and their career is shot. Hence, going through the gawky stage like Brea did, and apparently I still am, produces positive results on character—and a sense of humor. Sheesh, I oughta be Adam Sandler by now.
“Arin told me you’d be at church,” Kevin says.
“She asked me if I could meet you,” I admit, but I’m even bolder. “Do you know why Arin asked me? You are capable of entering into worship by yourself, are you not?”
Eww. Might have been a
tad bit rude there, but I want him to admit to me that Arin thinks I’m
a church elder. I want to know what she said about me. Meow.
His lips curve into a smile, and I’ve never seen anything so delicious. Maybe he does have a personality! My heart is dangerously close to boiling over. What is it about me that doesn’t evolve? Case in point, last three love interests:
College boyfriend who wanted one thing—and apparently got it everywhere else.
Bald engineer with a penchant for fiery, long-haired blondes, and now . . .
Stunning medical doctor who
should
be on
General Hospital
and who:
1. Dated my friend.
2. Is on the rebound.
3. Might not possess a personality.
I’m currently no threat. Since Kevin is also on the rebound and one always gravitates to their ex’s polar opposite after a break-up. Arin is flighty and flirty; I’m grounded and plain-spoken. But all that will change when Kevin sees me on Thursday. The new Ashley, who will bear a striking resemblance to Scarlett (without elegant hair, of course).
Kevin is still looking at me intently, his Hugh Jackman chin resting on his artful fist. He’s waiting for me to say something pro-found. The tension is too great and I feel like an artichoke in a pressure cooker.
Not until Thursday!
I want to shout.
I cannot possibly
be fabulous until Thursday!
“Sorry I didn’t meet you this morning at church then. Was everything okay?” I ask like a concerned mother.
