Free Third Date by Kylie Keene

After an hour-long wait at the baggage-claim desk, I find out the airline accidentally sent my luggage to Hawaii. That’s right. Hawaii. A place I have never been and will probably never go. But at least my suitcase has been there.
    When I get to the hotel, I’m completely exhausted. I head straight to my room to shower. I always feel like I need a shower after being crammed in with all those people on the plane. When I get out of the shower I have to put on my dirty clothes again. I figure they must have a gift shop downstairs in the lobby where I could at least buy a clean t-shirt to sleep in.  
    I go down to the main floor of the hotel. They have a gift shop, but it’s closed. Of course. I’ll have to wait until tomorrow.  
    The lobby is swarming with people who are there for the conference. They’re all nicely dressed, mingling and networking, like I should probably be doing.
    Not wanting to be seen in my half-dried hair, no makeup, and dirty clothes, I race toward the elevator, keeping my head down. In my hasty escape, I bump right into someone. And not a light bump, either. It’s more like I crashed into the person, nearly knocking myself over.
    “Excuse me.” I hear a man’s voice and feel his hand on my arm. “Are you okay?”
    “It’s my fault. Sorry. I wasn’t looking.” I quickly move past him.
    “Wait.” The man follows me. “Do I know you?”  
    I arrive at the elevator where a crowd of people are getting off. I’m stuck there and the guy I bumped into is now right next to me. I feel him staring, but I don’t look up. The last thing I need today is some wacko stalker.  
    “Morgan?” He says it loud so I can hear him in the noisy crowd.
    I look over and see a guy about 6’2 with dark blond hair and deep blue eyes wearing a white polo shirt and jeans. He’s unusually tan for this time of year. I know him from somewhere, but where?
    “Morgan?” he asks again. “It’s Brad Fletcher. Remember me? From high school back in Bloomington?”
    Brad Fletcher. I do remember him. Two classes ahead of me. Football jock. Homecoming king. Mr. Popularity. Mr. Slept-with-Almost-Every-Girl-in-My-High School. At least that was the rumor.
    We both get on the elevator. I have no idea what to say to him, so I say nothing.  
    “Sorry, I guess you’re someone else,” he says. “You just look like this girl I went to school with.”
    “No, you were right.” I glance at him, then focus on the panel in front of me, watching the floor numbers light up one by one. This has got to be the slowest elevator ever.
    Brad steps in front of me. “I thought it was you. So how have you been?”
    “Good.” I’m now staring right at his chest, which is very wide.
    The elevator stops and more people pile in, filling every last bit of space. Brad and I get forced to the back and he moves to my side, his muscular arm wedged up against me.
    “Are you here for the conference?” he asks.
    “Yeah, but the airline lost my luggage so I’m kind of having a bad day.”
    “Sorry to hear that. What do you need? I could loan you some stuff.”
    I give him a strange look, wondering what he thinks I could borrow from him. The thing I need most is clean underwear and I certainly couldn’t borrow that from him. The elevator finally stops on my floor and I get out, with Brad right behind me.  
    “Looks like we’re on the same floor.” He walks down the hall with me. “Do you want to grab a drink? Catch up?”
    Catch up? What’s he talking about? I barely said two words to this guy in high school. I can’t believe he even remembers my name.  
    “I feel kind of gross in these clothes so maybe after my suitcase arrives.”
    “When’s that going to be?”
    “Probably Monday morning. The suitcase is in Hawaii.”
    He laughs. “Nice. Bet you wish you were there with it.”
    “Yeah. So anyway, enjoy the conference.” I stop at my room.
    “I’ve got a rental car here. You want me to drive you somewhere to get some