Free There's Something About Her, A Manhattan Love Story by Z.L. Arkadie Page B

with embarrassment, so I shimmy out of my jacket. His laughter simmers.  
    “If you only knew,” he says.  
    “If I only knew what?”
    “He liked you in high school—a lot.”
    “And you convinced him to stay away from me?”  
    “I did,” he admits.  
    I pause, surprised by his frankness. “Why? Because I wasn’t popular enough?”  
    His gaze caresses my face. “Robert wasn’t the only one who found you attractive.”  
    I throw my hands up. “I’m not following you.”
    He pauses, sniffs, shakes his head, and turns to scowl out the window.  
    The pilot warns us that it’s take-off time. Right after the announcement is made, I get it. He liked me too! I think. No? Yes? Is that what he’s alluding to? Never in a million years would I have guessed Vincent Adams would be attracted to me in any way, shape, or form. He was so that and I was so this . Robert was so neither .
    The airplane bolts down the runway and lifts off. Vincent avoids eye contact with me, so I close my eyes and try to keep them that way. My brain is too active to sleep. All I hear is Vincent typing on his laptop, and occasionally he changes it up to punch out a message on his cell phone.  
    A pretty flight attendant taps me on the shoulder to hand me a breakfast menu, but I decline. Only then does Vincent glance at me. Our eyes connect, but I turn away and close mine to think about the time I spent living in Denver.  
    I wonder if things would’ve been different for me if I’d known Vincent Adams liked me. I never paid him much attention. He was the wallpaper in Robert’s background. I was also pretty depressed. My parents didn’t have an amicable divorce, nor were they the kind of people who kept their shit locked behind the bedroom door.  
    I had been privy to all of their verbal sparring. I knew every dirty punch my father’s lawyers threw at my mother and vice versa. I harbored no delusions about what makes a happy home. Growing up, I never met anyone who didn’t have a bunch of crazy shit going on behind their rod-iron fences. Uncle Charles and Aunt Carlotta, Jack and Charlie’s parents, put on a good show, but their ultra-wealthy, cookie-cutter front was just that, a front.  
    I think I fell for Robert Tango because he had a face I could fantasize about. He didn’t look like the average boy next door. He had dark hair, dark eyes, and a crooked smile. He had the face of a movie star, and that hasn’t changed.
    Before long, the pilot announces that we’ll land in twenty minutes. I’m groggy. I must’ve drifted in and out of consciousness the whole trip. I sneak a glance at Vincent. He’s focused on his work. Our last discussion sits between us like a polka dot elephant, but I can’t think about that right now. It’s almost show time.  
    I take my purse off the seat and search through it until I find my press powder. Flying always makes my skin extra moist. I smooth the pad over my face to dry it off and use my fingers to tame my wild, bedhead hair. I sigh and try to tug the wayward strands into place.  
    “What are you doing?” Vincent asks.
    I jump. I forgot someone was here to see how I work to tame this shrew on top of my head. “Getting ready for the meeting.”  
    I slam my mirror shut and throw it back in my bag. He has that confused look that men get when they have no idea what they’ve done to bring out “the crazy.”  
    I lift a hand. “I’m sorry. I’m not angry with you. I’m mad at my hair. Normally, I’m fine with looking like a cavewoman, but ever since you gave me this opportunity, I’ve been feeling like I’m worth more. I just wish my hair would follow suit.” I smile. I was being witty, but his frown tells me that he didn’t get it.
    Finally we land. Thick snow layers the landscape. The opaque gray sky hovers low. The workers on the ground are wearing extra layers.  
    We have a bitter walk from the landing strip into the terminal. I would’ve brought my faux-fur-trimmed