Finding London, Ellie Wade [different e readers txt] 📗

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.”

“Yeah?”

“Definitely. You and the whole brooding-jerk vibe you have going on scares me, and if I were to follow the rules of normal human behavior, I would take in the signs you’ve given and back away, leaving you alone to wallow in your moodiness on your own.”

“But you’re not going to?” I say as the plane begins its ascension into the clouds.

“No, Dove says not to. So, nope.” She shakes her head, her long caramel brown hair falling in front of her shoulders. “I’m going to use the time we have together to talk. I’ve lived twenty-two years on this planet, and I have traveled all over the world, yet I’ve never met you until recently. Then, we proceed to run into each other three times in two different states within the same amount of weeks. I’m not sure what, but something—fate, destiny, the cosmos, or an all-knowing sparkly unicorn—wants us to know each other. In what capacity, I’m not sure. But let’s start as friends.” As soon as the last word is out of her mouth, she pulls in a long breath.

“I don’t believe in sparkly unicorns.”

“Apparently, you don’t believe in a lot of things, Loïc, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t real nonetheless.”

“I’m quite sure that omniscient unicorns with glitter coats are indeed not real. I’m willing to bet money on it.”

She playfully swats my arm. “You’re missing the entire point.”

“To which point are you referring? That you take advice from chocolate, have a serious sugar problem, or believe in mythical creatures?”

London laughs, and that sound does something to me.

“That we’re meant to know each other in some way. I’m suggesting friends, but I’m definitely open to other arrangements.”

Her stare takes me in, ripping me raw with intensity. This kind of longing hurts. I’ve never experienced an attraction like this, and I’m convinced I don’t like it.

“I told you that I don’t need more friends.”

At this point, I’m thankful the first-class section is practically empty on this flight. London and I aren’t being loud, but we’re not whispering either. I’m glad that no one else is taking part in our strange get-to-know-you session.

London continues, “I know you said that, but I also know that you didn’t need to come up and say hello back at the airport. You could have ignored me, but you didn’t. So, that right there tells me that you are capable of being a kind person, and that trait alone is enough for me in a friendship.”

“I’ll remember that next time,” I say dryly in an attempt to seem uninterested when, in reality, I am anything but.

London opens each bag of candy and then grabs a gummy worm. She holds on to the end and puts it in her mouth before pulling it out, sucking it.

What the hell? I look away, rubbing my sweaty palms on my pants.

She finishes her weird gummy-worm-eating ritual and reaches for a handful of the sour ones. “Have some. They’re so good.”

“I’m fine, really.”

She lightly pokes my side. “Stop being a douche, and just eat some damn candy. I’m prepared to eat it all by myself if I have to, but my thighs won’t be too pleased.”

Leaning my head back against the seat, I groan internally as a vision of holding London’s thighs while she rides me shoots through my head before I can stop it. The flight from Louisville to Detroit is a relatively short one, but no amount of time will be quick enough at this point.

I think back to a few moments ago. “Why are you on a diet?”

London is goddamn perfection. She doesn’t need to lose weight. If she’s one of those chicks who starves herself to remain thin, it will turn me off—or it should.

“What do you mean?” She sounds confused.

“You said that you and your mom ignored your diets to eat chocolate.”

Realization dawns behind her eyes. “Oh, I didn’t mean it like that. I’m not dieting. I meant, my general diet doesn’t usually consist of bags of candy. I’m a pretty healthy eater. I eat a lot—don’t get me wrong—but I try to eat good stuff.”

I’m happy with her response even though it’s just another thing not to hate about her. Damn it.

“We should do a version of Twenty Questions,” she says with excitement lining her voice.

“What do you mean?” I ask even though I know I’m not going to like her answer.

“Like, we’ll take turns asking each other questions, and we have to answer honestly.”

I was right. I’m not liking it.

“London,” I say on an exasperated sigh.

“Fine, you can go first. Ask me anything.” She practically bounces in her seat.

“Have you always been this annoying?” I bite out.

She shrugs. “Yeah, probably. Okay, my turn. Where were you born?”

“Berkeley, California.”

“Isn’t your last name Berkeley? So, your parents lived in the same city as their name. That’s funny.”

“Not exactly,” I offer.

“Do explain,” she says.

“Fine, but this is one of your questions. I’m only giving you twenty. I was born in Berkeley, but my parents lived in Lancaster, California.”

“So, your mom gave birth to you when she was out of town or something?”

Before I can doubt myself, I just start talking, which is so unlike me. But there is something about London that makes me want her to know things about me, things that only Cooper and Maggie know. “I was adopted by my parents. I’m assuming my birth mom was from Berkeley. I was found on the steps of the Berkeley Fire Department.”

“That’s so crazy. It’s like it’s meant to be,” she says with reverence in her voice. “My sister and I both have geographically themed names, too.” When I don’t question her, she continues, “We were both named after the places where we were conceived.”

I huff out a laugh. “Really?”

She shrugs as her lips tilt up into a grin. “Yeah, my dad has always traveled a lot for work. My mom thought it would be sentimental to name us after our place of conception. My sister should technically be named Atlanta—so