Page 13 of Fake It For Love (Faux Love)
“Yes, we are, and I don’t care,” she said with a firm nod.
There was a lot of laughter and conversation happening all around us. The other tourists that were waiting for their baggage to be unloaded looked a little disgusted by the antics of Tony and his friends. They were all in their thirties and acting like they were sixteen. One of them even had a football. It was a flashback I didn’t care to experience.
The sound of another plane coming in drew the attention of Tony and his buddies. I looked to see what had everyone’s attention. There was a buzz of excitement as the small plane touched down and, unlike our own arrival, practically glided across the runway before coming to a gentle stop. The pilot opened the door and climbed onto the wing before hopping off.
The crowd waiting to load on the shuttles fell quiet. Everyone was focused on the tall man with aviator sunglasses while he opened the nose of his plane. He was wearing dark jeans with a dress shirt tucked in. He moved with ease as he pulled his bag from the nose.
An airport worker rushed out to talk to him. I watched with the same fascination as the rest of the crowd. Who was the mystery man? I assumed he was probably some rich guy that owned one of the hotels or some big mansion.
I watched as he shook the worker’s hand. That was out of character for the rich people I knew. Many of the people that used to be in our social circle viewed everyone as beneath them. They would certainly never shake anyone’s hand.
The very tall, dark-haired man turned to face his rapt audience. The smile on his face fell away. I imagined it was probably just a little intimidating to see a big crowd of people hanging on your every move.
Maybe he was used to it. The guy was hot. I wondered if he was a movie star. I was flipping through my mental files, trying to place him. There was a hint of familiarity about him. Maybe he was one of the Hemsworth brothers. I had just watched a movie starring one of the older ones. But this guy was clean shaven.
“Is that him?” someone asked.
“Who?” I asked no one in particular.
The single question set off a flurry of comments.
“I heard he was bringing his French girlfriend.”
“He’s supposedly in third place for richest man in the world or something like that.”
“Damn, he’s hot. I hope he’s single.”
“Dibs!”
I turned to see which one of the women said it and earned a dirty look. Like I was competition. I turned back around and watched the man climb back into his plane. He had a nice ass. I was guessing celebrity. He had an air about him in the way he moved, like he was very confident.
“That’s him,” one of Tony’s friends said.
“Him who?” Norah asked.
“Your boyfriend,” Tony teased. “The one you dumped for someone better.”
“Who?” Norah repeated.
“Me! I’m the better guy.”
“Fine, but who is he?” Norah asked with frustration.
“Ryan Jones,” Tony answered.
My head whipped around so fast it nearly spun right off. I actually had to lift my sunglasses to try and see better. That did nothing but blind me. I pulled my sunglasses back down after seeing spots.
The man, Ryan Jones, if that was really him, was talking to another airport employee. They were gesturing to the plane and seemed to be talking about it.
I couldn’t believe that was the same dorky Ryan. There was just no way.
“Is it really him?” Norah asked me.
“I don’t know. You dated him.”
“But you guys were close senior year,” she retorted.
“That was a long time ago,” I told her. “I don’t know. I don’t think it’s him. It doesn’t look like the guy I remember.”
