Page 11 of The Cheerleader is Off Limits

“I’ve had a relationship with weed longer than you’ve been alive. If you can handle it, I can handle it. You do know it’s illegal in the state of North Carolina, though, right?”

She holds her hands up in surrender. “Again, what are you, a cop?”

“No, but you brought this through security?” I ask as I slide the gummy into my mouth, pleasantly surprised by the sour apple flavor that isn’t usually my favorite.

“Well… I may not have known that fact until just now. I know it’s legal in Maryland, though,” she says matter-of-factly. “Prettysure the drug pups aren’t looking for my weed gummies. But look, I was just trying to help. If you don’t want it, give it back,” she says, holding out her hand under my mouth, and I roll my eyes.

“So where are you going to school?” I ask, changing the subject.

“What?” she asks with an expression that seems like she can’t comprehend what I just asked.

“College? You said that’s why you’re moving to Maryland?”

“Oh. Duh. Of course.” She shakes her head. “Towson.”

Not too far from me.My brain immediately maps the best hour-long route from my house to the university. “That’s a good school. When do you start?”

“I’ll move in at the end of August. In the meantime, I’ll be staying with my aunt and uncle. My parents are still overseas, and they didn’t want me staying somewhere by myself. I’ve been here in North Carolina staying with some friends.”

“Do you have any siblings?”

“A little brother. He’s still there with my parents.”

I’m about to speak when a voice comes over the loudspeaker. “Ladies and gentlemen, we’ll begin boarding Flight 5093 nonstop to Baltimore, Maryland, shortly. Please make sure you have your tickets ready to ensure a seamless boarding process. Thank you.”

“So why do you think you haven’t found the right woman?” Sloane speaks, and I gape at her, wondering what would possess her to ask that.

“How many of those have you had?” I ask her, wondering if she’s just high and wants to have a deep, meaningful conversation about life and all our issues.

“Four.” She shrugs. “I was supposed to leave like six hours ago, and my original flight got delayed, and I got bored. This atleast mellowed me out so I didn’t spend half the day being pissed off. Now, answer the question.”

“I don’t think it’s your business.”

“Of course, it’s not. We just met,” she retorts.

“Then why do you want to know?”

“I don’t know, why were you rambling to a perfect stranger about your metaphorical biological clock?” She slides on a zip-up jacket before fingering her necklace, a small gold heart that looks like it could be a locket.

I grumble to myself because I had just asked myself the same question earlier. “You asked about kids, and it got me thinking.”

She crosses her ankles in front of her and leans back in her seat. “Have you ever been married before?” Her shirt rises a little, exposing a sliver of smooth tan skin, and I blink away to focus on answering her question, not on what that skin would feel like under my fingers.Or my lips.

“Nope.”

“Serious relationships?”

“Not in many years,” I answer, and for the first time, I feel a little embarrassed about it. I’ve enjoyed being perpetually single, but I do realize how that can come off to a woman who’s probably trying to figure out what my red flags are over that fact.

“Do you date at all?”

“Of course, they just never turn into anything serious.” I shrug, casually.

“Soooo, you’re a fuckboy then.” She lowers her voice, but she’s still loud enough for me to hear.

I snap my eyes to her and narrow them. “Why would you assume that? What if I’m just going after the wrong women who break my heart?”

Sloane lets out a laugh so loud that the entire terminal turns to look at her. She puts a hand over her mouth and makes a show of wiping under her eyes like she’s been crying. “Sorry,”she mouths to everyone before turning to me. “How did you even say that with a straight face? Men who look like you don’t tend to get their hearts broken much.Or”—she snaps, like she’s having an epiphany—“youdidgo after the wrong woman once upon a time, she broke your heart, and that’s why you keep every woman at arm’s length, and now no one can get in here,” she says, pressing a blue manicured finger straight against my heart. It flips slightly, feeling her hand on me, and I feel like this is the first time I’ve been simultaneously turned on and annoyed by a woman.