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“He already thinks the worst.” I shrug. “Might as well commit.”

“You are devious. And that is why I love you,” she says with a smile. She places a quick peck on my cheek and then leans around me. “Yep, he’s still looking over here. Kiss me.”

“What?”

“If we’re going to do this, it needs to be convincing, right?”

“You want me to kiss you? Right here, right now?” I glance around the busy airport where everyone is minding their own business playing on their phones, eating, or trying to take a nap while they wait for their flight. All except for one lonely man on the other side of the room and the groupies staring at him.

Kiss her.

Okay. I can do this.

I reach up and brush a strand of her hair that’s fallen free of her braid behind her ear. Just that small touch makes her squirm, and fills my head with a million questions, the main one of which is does she want me too?

Answering that question should absolutely not be my mission for this week.

Two months ago, wanting Maggie felt manageable.

Lately, it feels dangerous.

This was a terrible idea.

Which was exactly why I wanted to do it.

“What are you thinking about so hard that the furrow between your eyebrows is deeper than I’ve ever seen it?” Maggie asks. “You don’t want to kiss me.”

“I didn’t say that,” I huff as her cheeks turn cherry red, making her even more gorgeous.

“It’s just…what if it’s awkward?” I ask her. Awkward as in I can’t stop.

“Oh.”

“Maybe we should practice without anyone around first.”

“S-sure,” she says with a shaky smile.

For now, I take her hand in mine and bring it up to my lips to kiss the top of it. “Let’s schedule a time to talk about this more. Maybe when we get to our room?”

Her eyes widen slightly. “Right. Our room.”

“You’re still okay with sharing with me, right? I can sleep on the floor.”

Now her expression softens. “No way, Teddy! You’re doing me a favor by coming with me. There’s no way I’m letting you sleep on the floor. We can share the bed. It’s a king.”

The bed could be the size of the island, and I would still want to reach for her.

“If you’re sure.”

“I’m sure.”

Over the intercom, I hear the call for our flight to start loading. “That’s us,” I tell Maggie as I release her hand to get to my feet and grab the handle of her rolling luggage.

“Wait, what?” she asks remaining seated. “That’s for Group A. Which group are we? Do you have our boarding passes?”

“They’re on my phone, and Group A is us because I booked us in first class.”

“No way.”