SHUSHED - CHRIS EVANS ✔️

CHAPTER ONE - LA TO NYC

A/N: SOOO, this is my new book. let me know what you think in the comments and please don't forget to vote. I love you all so much. ENJOY!!

Looking down at my phone, I see my flight is delayed. Again. I'm so irritated. I run my hands through my long hair, frustrated, ready to pull it out. I tug at it a little, the pain pleasurable and stress reducing. I sink into the soft armchair, shifting my computer that's been warming on my lap. Glancing across the airline lounge again, I watch the others stuck in this temporary airport oasis. A young couple with their unruly toddler, attempting to corral the boy between three chairs as he throws small toy cars in the air. The greying businessman in his wrinkled suit, briefcase abandoned to the floor next to him as he snores softly. The curly haired waitress coming by to offer me another Chardonnay, God bless her. I'm bored. I look back to my laptop, motivating myself to continue through my inbox. Looking down, I criticize my fingernails, the pink Shellac desperate for an upgrade. Wishing I had yoga pants on instead of slacks.

I watch the big planes out the window, sun reflecting off their shiny sides. Planes shifting back and forth, luggage volleying from ground to sky. I'm replying to a boring marketing email about team productivity when a deep voice asks, "Excuse me, Is this seat taken?"

I shake my head, not looking up as I type quickly along my screen. Until I see him out of the corner of my eye. I slowly raise my head, as if he'll disappear in a poof of magic if I move too fast. There he is, Chris Evans. Captain America himself. Hotter than I ever imagined. He's settling in his chair, pulling his tablet and phone from his backpack, searching for his ear buds. Dark jeans, black sweatshirt, baseball hat. His blue eyes, pools I want to jump into. He's clean shaven, his crisp jawline cut like ice. Arms. Wow, his arms. Unbelievably hot. He's very Captain America. Without his dark hair and beard, he looks just like Steve Rogers. I realize I'm gawking, and look down to my boring email again.

The waitress comes over, serves me the Chardonnay on a cheap paper napkin. Chris glances from her to me then back to her, and orders a Heineken. I keep my head tilted to my screen but look up at him as the waitress walks away. He's looking at me, appraising me with a smile.

I blush and reach for my glass, clumsily tipping it on its side. As I curse under my breath, he laughs and leans over, adding his napkin to the spill.

"I'm sorry", I stammer as my cheeks flush. That was really smooth.

"No problem."

It's silent as I drag the withered pieces of paper across the wine covered table. Finally I give up and sit back. As I look up we make eye contact again.

"Where are you headed?" He asks, finding his tablet charger and plugging it in.

"New York," I answer. "For business."

"Oh yeah, what do you do?"

I tell him about my consulting company, business operations and employment strategy for corporations.

"I travel a lot," summarizing my career.

He nods, "yeah I get that."

"Where are you going?" I ask him.

"Home. Boston."

"Oh. Nice."

"Yeah it'll be nice to be home for a few days."

I realize the playing dumb game isn't going to get me anywhere so I jump in.

"So were you working on a movie in LA?" The waitress brings me another glass, just in time for enough courage to ask that.

He grins. "Doing an interview and photo shoots."

"Cool," I respond. Pretending I'm cool.

He slides back in his chair, crossing one leg up onto his knee.

"So you do know who I am," he teases with a grin. He's a flirt.

I tilt my head and smile back at him. "Of course I do."

I get that grin again. "Well I wasn't sure. You played it pretty cool. You didn't seem to recognize me."

He reaches across the space, extending his hand to me.

"I'm Chris."

"Hi Chris." I blush again and introduce myself.

His fingers cover mine. My small hand looks tiny in his large muscular one. Not too soft, not calloused. I don't want to let go.

We pull apart, smiling. He asks what I'm working on, and we start talking about business development and processes. I tell him about my beginnings in HR and employee development. He wants to start his own production company, tells me about his business plan which he has clearly mapped out. He asks about a particular theory of business operations and we discuss its merits. He speaks regrettably about his management and how he wishes they approached his opportunities differently. Soon an hour and a half has passed.

Both of our phones buzz with seconds of each other. My flight is finally boarding. We both gather our belongings, him filling his backpack as I cram all my stuff into my laptop bag.

He throws some cash on the little table between us, winks and says, "Complimentary drinks are on me."

"No, no, I can contribute."

He puts one beautiful finger to his lips, shakes his head and says, "Shhh no. I got it." I just nod in response, watching his lips.

We leave the lounge together, talking about LA and the sunshine and the manic energy of the city. He's polite and thanks the wait staff and the concierge as we leave. As he holds the door for me, I realize he's much taller and bigger than I thought he was while sitting in those lounge chairs.

"Well thanks, for helping me pass the time" I want to touch that hand again.

He smiles, reaches out his hand. "Thank you. Maybe we'll run into each other again someday."

I laugh and say, "yeah I'd like that."

He nods, says goodbye, walks away.

I watch him, how he blends into the crowd immediately, a hidden star in a flood of disgruntlement and travel weariness.

Damn, I say to myself. Chris Evans.

I should've gotten a picture.

I catch my flight, work most of the trip from my business class seat. About an hour out from NYC, I google Chris. Results in more information than I ever wanted to know. I blush just looking at his face, modeling on a magazine cover. Damn. That is one handsome man.

I really should've gotten a picture.