T.L. Swan

“I’m Jim,” he says as he holds his hand out to shake mine.

Oh God, now I have to be polite. I shake his hand. “Hi, Jim. I’m Emily.”

He frowns as if bracing himself to lie. “Emily . . . all men are repulsed by Backseat Barbies.”

“Because I’d break that drought of yours and initiate you into the Miles-High Club.”

face falls as he watches me. I’m not joking—I don’t want him to leave me. This man is everything I’m not looking for

“Yes, sure, you can have my number,” I whisper into the silence.

But he didn’t want it. He’s gone.

What’s with the attitude?”

“I don’t have an attitude,” I fire back.

He raises his eyebrow again, and I feel like slapping it down to his chin.

Our eyes search each other’s, and without a word said, he grabs my ponytail and wraps it around his hand and pulls my head back to his face.

There are moments in your life that you know you will remember forever.

Certain situations that are poignant and have shaped who you are.

I wish I could bottle this moment.

What the hell am I doing here? I’m a good girl, and good girls don’t do bad things with men like this.