Liz Tomforde

can feel his stare on me as I keep my eyes locked on the window exit. Partly to keep my eyes off him and partially to plan out my escape.
The plane isn’t taxiing that fast on the runway yet. I’m sure the road rash I’d endure from the jump out the window onto the asphalt would burn a whole lot less than Zanders’ gaze.

“You’re in love with yourself.”
“Someone’s got to be,”

“It’s not a date,” I correct, brushing my hands down my chest and smoothing my suit. “Stevie specifically said it wasn’t a date. Like multiple times.”
Maddison squints through the phone screen. “So, your table being set with candles and flowers is because this isn’t a date?”