Page 39 of Fake It For Love (Faux Love)
RYAN
Ididn’t want to leave our little slice of heaven, but it was time to get back. She was staring out at the water. I wondered what she was thinking about. There were a lot of things I wanted to ask her but didn’t because I didn’t want to ruin the evening. This little bit of peace we had was probably short-lived. We’d been a lot like fire and ice back in the old days. I wanted to ask her about her family. I had never forgotten that night at prom and how upset she had been. The woman had been crushed. She seemed to be doing okay for herself, but I knew better than anyone that looks could be deceiving.
“Ready to head back?” I asked her.
She sighed. “Do we have to?”
“Technically, no, but we might get a little hungry,” I said.
“True.”
I got up and helped her to her feet. We slowly walked back to the plane. I helped her up and went around to my side. “Thank you,” she said once we had our headsets on. “This was really, really nice. Thank you for pushing me outside my comfort zone.”
“Absolutely,” I said. “Thanks for trusting me.”
We took off, rising above land and sea once again. While soaring above, I pointed out the different depths of the water. She seemed genuinely interested and stared below. It was strange to have this with her of all people. I loved to fly. I loved to look down when I was flying because I always wondered what birds saw when they were soaring through the sky. Most people I took up were less than thrilled to look down. Granted, I rarely took anyone up, but when I did, they didn’t seem to find the same joy I did.
After checking the plane back into the hangar, I decided to push my luck just a little further. “Do you have to be back for anything?” I asked her.
“No, you?”
“Nope.” I shook my head. “Want to grab dinner at one of the restaurants in town?”
“Sure,” she said.
That surprised me. I expected her to laugh in my face. We took a cab to one of the restaurants and were quickly seated at a table in back. We both ordered fruity cocktails. “Can I ask you a question?” I asked her.
“Sure.”
I wasn’t sure she would tell me much of anything. I knew better than to try and ask too much. My goal was to keep it simple. I liked hanging out with her and didn’t want to push my luck. The one thing I did remember about Claire Sullivan was her short fuse.
“What do you do?” I asked.
“I’m a teacher,” she answered.
“No kidding?”
“Yep, fourth grade,” she answered.
“Where?”
“Geneva,” she replied nervously. I was pushing it. I could see her getting anxious. I didn’t know why she was uncomfortable with the questions. They were relatively mild. It wasn’t like I was asking for her address or phone number.
“I’m not surprised,” I said.
“What aren’t you surprised about?” she asked.
My gaze dropped to her lips. She sucked on the cocktail with her beautiful green eyes staring at mine. Her lips were full, just like the rest of her body. “You being a teacher,” I said. “I always thought you would end up in a career that involved kids.”
“Why do you say that?”
“I remember you were one of the few people in our class that volunteered to work in the daycare whenever the school put on their socials for the parents.”
She laughed. “You can’t call it daycare,” she said. “That would offend the young adults. We called it the kids’ club.”
“Ah, that’s what it was,” I said. “Why did you always volunteer?”
“Because hanging out with a bunch of tweens was a lot more fun than hanging out with the parents all trying to outdo each other. If there was ever a prime example of trying to keep up with the Joneses, those horrible events would be it. I hated those things. Stuffy arrogance does not look good on anyone.”
