Finding London (Flawed Heart #1) (7 page)

I’m at the airport, sitting patiently at the gate until it’s time to board.

The last few days with my mom flew by. I had the best time with her. I honestly can’t remember the last time I spent so much one-on-one quality time with her, and I know I need to do it more often.

There’s a walking contradiction pacing in the aisle in front of me. For the past eternity, it seems, this dude has been yammering away on his cell phone about trading stocks. Just a typical douche-bag businessman who thinks yelling his client’s personal business into his phone at an airport makes him look cool, right? Yeah, that would be all he is—except he’s wearing a blue short-sleeved polo shirt, a pair of bright orange running pants, and worn leather sandals with socks. It doesn’t appear that he even attempted to comb his short hair when he got up this morning. I can tell that he sleeps with the right side of his head on the pillow. Furthermore, he keeps sucking on a straw that’s in a cup of ice that, I’m assuming, used to have a drink in it, creating an obnoxious sound that echoes throughout the gate’s waiting area.

What I see of this man and what I hear him saying into his cell phone are complete contradictions. It just doesn’t add up. I’ve had a lot of time to watch him, and I’ve decided that there are two probable scenarios. One, there are hidden cameras somewhere, and I’m a witness to a hidden prank show. But I’ve looked around, and I haven’t seen anything indicating a television crew. So, that leads me to my other guess. He’s insane, like a literal crazy person, and he’s talking into a phone that doesn’t have anyone on the other end. In fact, it’s probably not even charged. Scenario number two makes me sad for him.

Maybe I’m completely wrong, and he’s just an eccentric-dressing douche-bag businessman. Yeah, let’s hope for that.

“So, is that your next victim?”

I gasp when I hear
his
voice. I would recognize it anywhere.

I tilt my head up to see Loïc standing beside me. He’s wearing his fatigues and carrying an Army green duffel. My mouth remains open wide. I’m so shocked to see him here. I can hardly process it.

“What?” I finally ask, not able to think of anything better.

“The guy you’ve been staring at for the last twenty minutes…you have your sights set on him?”

I ignore his question, knowing that he’s joking. Instead, I skip to the real question. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m flying back to Detroit, same as you apparently,” he says almost distractedly. His stare is focused on my lips before it darts back to my eyes.

“Right. I see that, but what are you doing here, in Kentucky?” I continue to gawk up at him, and although I’m in shock at the sight of him, I can’t help but notice how incredibly mouthwatering he looks in his fatigues.
What is it about a hot guy in a military uniform?

“I was down in Fort Knox for training this week. Why are you here?”

“My parents live here.”

“Ah, gotcha. Do you mind if I take a seat?” He gestures toward the empty chair beside me.

I shrug. “It’s a free country.”

He chuckles. “Yeah, I guess it is.”

He places his bag on the ground at his feet and sits beside me.

“There are other unoccupied chairs around, you know.” My words sound snarky, even to my own ears. I suppose my ego is still bruised from our last encounter.

“I know, but I thought it would be a dick move to sit next to a stranger when you’re right here.”

My body bristles. I’m wary of this new friendlier version of a man who, prior to today, has wanted nothing to do with me. Even this minimal chitchat is out of his norm.

“We’re basically strangers, Loïc. What’s the difference?”

He regards me for one heartbeat and then another before he looks away. “Basically…but we’re not.”

We both sit in silence and watch Orange Pants continue to chatter away.

After a few beats, Loïc says, “So, what do you think his deal is?”

“I don’t know. I’m thinking he’s on a hidden camera show, he’s crazy, or he’s just a very odd, very loud, extremely impolite person. I’m leaning toward the latter.”

“Yeah, I think you’re right. Though I envy him in a way.”

“Why’s that?” I lean back into my seat and allow my gaze to drift from the man to Loïc.
Big mistake.
I put it off to the uniform and my newfound obsession with a man in camouflage, but my stomach flutters at the sight.

Loïc sports a genuine smile. He seems so carefree in this moment, and because I find the brooding badass version insanely irresistible, the man before me almost does me in.

“The whole package—his clothes, his loud voice—screams,
I don’t give a flying fuck what y’all think
. I’d imagine it would be pretty freeing not to give a shit about what others think of you.” His bright blues hold me for a second before they return their gaze to the topic of conversation.

I let out a small chuckle. “Yeah, I suppose you’re right. Though I couldn’t do it. I mean, socks with sandals? That crosses the line.”

“Does it?” Loïc laughs.

I can’t stop the way my heart picks up its pace at that sweet sound. He’s always been so serious. Hearing his laughter does something crazy to my insides.

“Definitely.”

“Noted. No socks and sandals.”

“Honestly, I would suggest you avoid the entire ensemble. I get that it might be freeing and all, but I wouldn’t recommend that look on you.”

“Good to know.”

“So, are we, like, friends now or something? At the club a couple of weeks ago, I got the impression that you didn’t want anything to do with me.”

Loïc locks his beautiful blues on me. “I’m sorry if I was rude, London. I didn’t want to make you feel bad in any way. It’s complicated, but know that it’s my issue and not anything to do with you. I wouldn’t say that we’re friends. I don’t really need any more friends.”

“Everyone can use more friends.”

“I don’t believe that. But I can’t say it’s not a little unnerving that we keep running into each other like this.”

I grin. “It must be fate.”

“I don’t believe in that either.”

“Maybe not, but you don’t have to believe in it for it to be real.”

It takes some effort, but I pull my stare away from his. He’s so handsome that it’s disarming. I can only take so much.

After a few minutes, I stand. “They’re going to start boarding in a few. I’m going to go get some snacks and magazines from the gift shop. It was nice running into you again, Loïc. Maybe we’re not friends, but it was nice to be friendly. See you later.”

“Good-bye, London.”

Yet again, his words sound so permanent, and it makes my heart ache. I hate the way I feel around Loïc and how desperately I want him.

I’m so lost in my own private pity party as I walk away that I almost plow right into the loudmouth bed head.

“Excuse me,” I say quickly.

My eyes dart down to the floor and his socks. I notice that there is a small hole in one of them, and the tip of his big toe is starting to pop through. I can’t help the smile that crosses my face as I continue toward the shop. Maybe I could learn a thing or two from Mr. I-Don’t-Give-A-Flying-Fuck because, to be honest, I wish I didn’t care what other people—particularly Loïc—thought about me.

Loïc

“London has this way of making me want to be different. She makes me want to try, and that is scary as shit.”

—Loïc Berkeley

That wasn’t so bad,
I think as I grab a water from the cooler at the back of the store.

After London walked away, I thought a beverage for the plane sounded like a good idea. The fact that I chose to walk to another shop at the other end of this section of the terminal had nothing whatsoever to do with London. I just wanted to stretch my legs.

Keep telling yourself that, Berkeley.

But I do have to admit that my recent conversation with London went well. The sight of her sitting here, in Kentucky, waiting to board the same plane as me, is still baffling. When I saw her, I knew that I would have to do the social thing. Any
normal
person who ran into someone they knew would say hi and exchange a few meaningless pleasantries before boarding. Granted, I’m as far from normal as they come. Yet I did it. It might have taken me twenty minutes to steel my nerves to approach her, but I did. I was friendly, doing my civil duty.

Surprisingly, it was nice to just talk. The entire experience was made better because I wasn’t going out of my way to be a total dick, and she wasn’t putting her sexy hands all over my chest, trying to seduce me. If anything, she seemed timid, not her usual tactic. But I’d say it was a win-win.

She’s just so beautiful. I can pretend all I want that every cell in my body isn’t insanely attracted to her, but that would be a complete lie. Yet I’m proud of myself because, despite this crazy urge I have to take her against a wall—multiple times—I just had a pretty normal conversation with her and survived with everything intact.

I’m starting to think she isn’t the girl I pegged her to be—not that it matters. I might not have her completely figured out, but I know myself. Regardless of what type of person she might be, she isn’t the one for me—or, more accurately, I’m not the one for her.

Chances are, after we land in Detroit, I won’t see her again anyway. So, this nervous energy that’s pounding through my veins will all be for naught. Then again, if I’m leaving it up to chance, then perhaps I will. Running into her three times in two weeks has started to make me wonder.

I make it back to the gate as the final boarding announcement sounds throughout the terminal. I do a quick scan of the area and don’t see London. It’s for the best. Get to my seat and get home—that’s my agenda, plain and simple.

I hand my boarding pass to the attendant at the gate. She looks down at it before looking up to me with a wide grin. “Oh, Mr. Berkeley, one of the passengers wanted to thank you for your service and upgraded you to first class.”

“Excuse me?”

“Here.” She hands me a new boarding pass. “You’ve been upgraded to first class. Thank you so much for all you do for our country. You’ll find your new seat assignment right there.” She points to the letter and number indicating my seat number on the thin piece of paper in my hand.

“Right. Okay. Thank you.” I take my new boarding pass and my duffel bag and head down the tunnel leading to the plane.

Don’t they have free liquor in first class? A drink might calm my racing thoughts of London. Great idea—save for the fact that I don’t drink. Bummer.
Well, the extra legroom will be a bonus.

I step onto the plane, and my attention immediately goes to her. She sits tall in her first-class seat, beaming up at me. I don’t have to check my ticket to know what my seat number will be. I toss my bag into the compartment above London before falling to the seat beside her.

“Thankful for my service?” I quirk up an eyebrow at her.

Her big doe eyes gaze up to mine. The corners of her lips rise slightly, hiding a smile. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Sure you don’t.” I stretch my legs and get myself situated, clicking the seat belt into place. The seats are definitely way more comfortable up here.

I scan the area. London and I occupy the first two seats on the left while an elderly gentleman, who is already asleep, is sitting in the farthest seat back on the right. The other nine extra-large leather seats remain empty.

“You seem different,” I say to her, taking note of the huge grin on her face.

She’s happy and flirty again, back to the London I’d met before at the car wash and club. The version of her I was just speaking to minutes ago was quiet and almost hesitant.

“What do you mean?” she asks thoughtfully.

“Just that your demeanor is different than it just was out there.”

“I did some thinking on my walk to grab snacks.”

“Did you?”

“Yep, I did.” She grins at me but doesn’t elaborate.

“And?” I chuckle.

“Oh…well, first, I couldn’t decide if I should buy the gummy bears, gummy worms, sour gummies, or gummy Life Savers. But then I remembered that the Dove chocolate wrapper that I had yesterday told me to buy both.”

“I’m sorry. I’m not following.” I can’t help the smile that comes to my face.

“Well, yesterday, my mom and I ignored our diets and bought a bag of Dove chocolates, which is my favorite. You know how, inside each wrapper, there’s a saying or some words of advice? Well, my wrapper said,
Buy both
. I realize that the word
both
signifies two things, but in the shop, I was torn between which bag of gummies to get, so I bought all four. I guess, first, you should know that I have a crazy gummy addiction. I love them all, and I normally don’t let myself eat them too often. Apparently, sugar isn’t good for you. Whatever.” She waves her hand in front of her, as if she’s dismissing that logic.

At this point, she reaches into her purse, pulls out four bags of candy, and places them in between us. “Lucky for you, I share.” She smiles before continuing, “Well, my other wrappers yesterday said,
Do something that scares you
,
Forget the rules
, and,
Take a selfie with your grandma
. I obviously can’t take a selfie with my grandma at this point because she’s not anywhere near here. So, I’ll have to put that wisdom on hold. But I’ve decided the other two pertain to you.”