Page 3 of The Flight Risk

“Hey, Tess.” He leans in for a hug. I meet him halfway and I can feel his body tense under my touch. Wow, is he repulsed by me that much? “It’s nice to see you.”

By no surprise at all, he is the first to let go and step back a whole two feet from where I’m standing.

I swallow. “It’s nice to see you, too.”

“How’s the school year going so far?”

Oakley and I have remained strictly friends since our almost-rendezvous in Telluride. We text every so often. It’s always cordial. Never flirty. At least on his end. At first, I tried to send some flirty texts to see if what happened in Telluride was a fluke. But lo and behold, here we are. Just friends. “Things are okay. It’s strange not having Brooke in the classroom with me, but I got a good batch of kids this year.” I miss her in the classroom as my partner-in-crime. The school didn’t have the budget to replace Brooke, so I have to navigate this year alone.

“That’s really great to hear.” He puts his hands in his jeans pockets and rocks on his feet. Silence between us again.

“Well, I need to check in on my fiancée before she officially opens those doors and it becomes a mad house in here. I’ll leave you two to it.” Tristan devours the rest of the cupcake, pats Oakley on his broad shoulder, and leaves the scene of the crime.

I try to keep things light and airy, my default setting unless I am around this man. “Hey, congratulations on your deal with that electrolyte drink! You must be really excited!”

“Thanks. Yeah, it’s been interesting having to do all the promotions for it. I already have a tough time doing the promotions for the Storm. I don’t like being the center of attention.”

I nod and smile at his humility. That’s another thing I find so fascinating and attractive about him. He’s so humble and kind and so not like the guys I’m used to dating. He has a quiet confidence about him and whenever I’m in his presence, I feel immediately safer. There’s this protective energy he exudes and for a man to have that quality without it being laced with toxic masculinity is a fricken turn on.

I smile and shrug. “I love the spotlight. I don’t mind being the center of attention,” I say in a mockingly demure way. Who am I kidding? There is nothing demure about claiming you like being the center of attention. My therapist told me that my desire to be noticed is from the lack of being noticed as a child. Can’t argue with her there. My sister was the one who garnered all the attention when we were little and my mom was the same way. The only other person who could’ve given me the attention I needed was my dad, but unfortunately, he hit the road shortly after I was born. Haven’t heard from him since.

“Well, you sure know how to light up a room,” he says.

Heat radiates in my stomach and my cheeks are back to matching the blush pink walls. I gaze into my favorite green eyes again. There are small crinkles by the outer corners as he beams down and looks at me like I’m the most interesting girl in the world. For a split second, I study his face, searching for any inkling of desire and want. Instead all I am left with is pure genuinity.

Before I can say anything back, the bakery doors open and I am summoned to the front by Brooke. I leave Oakley by the front counter and go help prop open the beautiful green doors, watching my bestie’s face light up. I am so incredibly proud of my friend. I know how hard she has worked for this and it’s a beautiful thing to see something that we used to talk about on our lunch break become a reality. I pull out my phone and begin snapping pictures because according to Brooke, I have the best eye and know all the tricks with my phone’s camera. There is going to be press here, but I know she wanted to have candid photos of the event. I steal a quick glance back at where I left Oakley and my heart sinks a little when I see he is looking down at his phone instead of over at me.

The thing about Oakley is he is not a dick whatsoever. If it was any other man who acted the way he did and essentially shut me down any chance we were in the same proximity, I would have written him off and never thought of him again.

There’s something different about Oakley. There’s something drawing me to stay close to him in whatever capacity that means.

I receive a text message and hope that it’s Oakley texting me. But instead I see “Tara” and the message reads:

Can you meet up for brunch this weekend? My treat, little sister.

A deep sense of dread falls over me. The only time my sister ever reaches out is if she needs something from me.

One thought crosses my mind: What is it this time, Tara?

2

It was nice to see you today, Tess.

Istare at my phone. Oakley sent this text last night right before I went to bed. I was going to respond right away, but I noticed he had his phone on Do Not Disturb mode and I quite literally didn’t want to disturb him. My thumbs hover over the screen and just when I have the courage to text him back, the hostess returns to the front desk.

“Hello, ma’am. Welcome. Do you have a reservation?”

“Yes, it should be under Lewis for two.”

“Ah, yes I see it here.” The hostess grabs a couple of menus. “Right this way. You are the first one to arrive.” My annoyance immediately sets in because this is just like Tara. She is perpetually late to everything and expects a red carpet entrance whenever she does arrive. I sit at the table and order a mimosa without hesitation. I know I’m going to need at least one drink to get through this brunch.

Twenty minutes later, I hear, “Hey, sister, how are you? Ugh, you started without me? Rude.”

“I’ve been here for twenty minutes, Tara.”

“Rawr. Who peed in your Cheerios this morning?” I cringe at the picture she just painted for me. She waves down our waiter, “Can I have a Bloody Mary?”

“Right away, ma’am. And would you like another mimosa, miss?”