He just nodded, giving me his full attention in a way that unnerved me. He didn't know I was g*y. Very few of the people we worked with did. I never dated anyone from work, and only our closest friends had any inkling of the truth. Most thought Bianca was my girlfriend, and that suited us both fine. But the way he looked at me felt like a come-on, and I felt myself both infuriated and fascinated by that. There was no way he could know. I didn't believe in that g*ydar crap.
I held Bianca's hand as we sat together on the crew bus. This was in no way unusual for us. We were close to the point of inseparable and had never felt the need to hide it, not from anyone. Still, somehow, with Javier's stare boring into me across the aisle, I felt defensive about the handholding, and I wasn't sure if that was because I wanted to explain it to him, or use it to warn him off. It rankled that I even had to think about it. I didn't owe explanations about any part of my life to anyone, I told myself firmly, let alone some little troublemaker I'd just met.
The plane was boarding through the second door at this jet bridge, so the passengers were entering the plane between the front of coach and the back of first class. This had Javier at the door with me, side by side, as we waited for the passengers to board.
"You and Bianca make a beautiful couple," Javier said quietly beside me.
This had me raising my brows and looking directly at him. He was smiling, a brow arched playfully.
Was he messing with me? Did he really think she and I were a couple, or was he mocking me?
I honestly couldn't tell.
"Thank you," I replied, my tone very neutral.
"Like Barbie and Ken."
That almost had me laughing. "Don't tell her that. She hates it when people call her Barbie. We've gotten that comparison a lot."
"I don't know why she'd hate that. Most girls would kill to look like a Barbie doll."
"Well, not Bianca. My advice would be to stay on her good side, and rule one to doing that is not to call her Barbie."
"Got it. Have any rules for staying on your good side?"
"To always be on Bianca's good side."
"So it's like that . . . interesting."
I studied him, almost positive that he was mocking me. "We're a package deal."
"Noted. I always wanted a best friend like that. You two are lucky."
"We're more than just best friends," I told him firmly, wanting to set up clear boundaries.
He smirked at me, and I knew, just knew, that he had guessed my secret. "Sure. Okay. More. I get the hint. You two have any plans for the layover?"
I shrugged. We were headed to Miami with a twenty-four hour layover. "Probably just hanging out at the beach or the pool. Nothing big."
"Would you mind if I tag along, or do you two need to be alone?"
I glared at him, wondering why he felt the need to be so sarcastic. "Tag away. This is a friendly crew. They'll probably all be out there."
"Thanks. I hate it when I get the crews that stay in their rooms all day."
"No problem. It's Miami, and the weather is supposed to be beautiful. It would be a pity to stay inside."
"You going to hit the gym?"
I chewed on my lip, considering my answer.
I wanted to avoid working out with him, if that was what he was getting at. I couldn't explain it, but I felt like I needed to avoid him altogether. "I'm not sure."
The first wave of passengers began to board, which was a relief, because even chatting with him unnerved me.
Boarding, takeoff, and our redeye service went smoothly and quickly. I didn't even see Javier again until the flight was half done.
I was drinking coffee in the front galley alone. Bianca was in the back, chatting with Jessa, so I was manning the front of the plane, wondering if I should call them up to the front.
I didn't like to be alone. Not ever.
I jumped a little as a smiling Javier burst through the curtain, nearly making me spill my coffee.
"Hey," he said, moving to stand way too close to me. "I thought you might be lonely up here, with all the girls chatting in back and all of the passengers sleeping."
I made a noncommittal noise, staring at him. One black curl had fallen onto his forehead, bringing out his thick lashes and his dark eyes. He really was just a striking man.
"So about the workout tomorrow. I like to hit the gym. I'm not ripped like you, but I try to keep fit. I hate going alone though."
"I'm not sure," I said, trying hard to take exception to the way he was staring at me. He was just so brazen.
I should call him out on that, I thought, but I didn't.
I watched his hand move to my arm, gripping as though to test my muscle. "What are you doing?" I asked him, my voice hard with tension.
"You don't get arms like this by skipping the gym. I think you're going to go, but you just don't want to go with me. What have you heard about me?" As he spoke, his hand moved to my abs, skimming over the taut ridges under my shirt.
I didn't react right away, genuinely shocked at his nerve.
Finally, my free hand shot to his, gripping it hard enough to make his eyes water with pain.
"What have you heard about me that makes you think I want you touching me?" Each word came through my clenched teeth.
"Nothing," he said, pulling on his hand.
I let it go, and he shook it, as though to shake away the pain. "I've only heard how hot you are and that you're with that girl."
"Bianca."
"Yeah. Her."
"Why did you touch my stomach?"
"I was just making conversation. I . . . wanted to feel your six pack, since I could tell that you had one. You can't tell me you aren't working out tomorrow. I won't believe you. I was just trying to prove my point."
"You shouldn't grab people like that without their permission. What the hell is wrong with you?"
Javier didn't answer, his gaze arrested, pointed at my crotch. I'd grown hard at his first touch, and I couldn't hide it, even in my work slacks.
He swallowed hard, staring. And staring.
Great, I thought, this one is sure to tell the world my secret. And on the tail of that thought: Well, now that he knows, the harm is already done . . .
That was a dangerous line of thought.