Crossing Lines

Chapter 14 - Hayden

I always thought I knew what I wanted.

But this petite woman proved me so fucking wrong in so, so many delicious ways. Because I didn't expect to be pulled into this weird spell by someone I barely know, yet feel like I've known my entire life.

What I said to her is true. She sees me, inside and outside. And in her own way she challenges me, surprises me, makes me question the life I lived before I met her.

It's insane how much I've been thinking about her in the few days since she ran into me, even more so since we spent the night together on that rooftop. The things she said, the way she said them, still confuses and simultaneously excites the hell out of me.

Maybe that's why I'm in such a spectacularly foul mood when I get out of my agent's office, the realization that I won't have as much time as I hoped dawning on me.

Good morning, Lucky. How did you sleep? I shoot her a text as I get into my car, resting my head against the seat while I take a deep breath, although it only takes a minute for Mila's response to light up my screen.

Morning! I slept like a baby, thanks for asking. Hope your meeting goes well.

I sigh as I read her message, knowing I won't be able to keep my promise of seeing her while I'm here. I have to admit, it kind of didn't...

Oh?

How the hell do I explain this to her? I don't want this to end before it even goddamn started. My agent thought it'd be a good idea to send me to Las Vegas tonight. I'll have to stay there, and then in Chicago until Tuesday next week.

She takes a second to answer, and I can't help but frown when I read the reply. Oh, I see.

This is exactly what I was trying to avoid. I can imagine she's already second-guessing us.

But then I get an idea. What are you doing on Wednesday next week?

Writing, hopefully...

Do you think you can fit lunch with me in there? I feel like a shy teenager, staring at my phone, waiting for her reply and hoping to God that she agrees to this date.

Depends. Are there peanut butter cups?

A laugh escapes my throat, the sound resonating in the confined space of my car as I shake my head and type my next message. I'll get you a fucking year's worth if that means you'll have lunch with me.

I really think you underestimate how much of those I eat in a year.

Send me the numbers, and I'll make it happen.

Again, her response takes a few minutes, but I can't help the ridiculous grin on my face when her message pops up.

Deal.

***

The next few days are spent running and flying from A to B to C and then back to A every goddamn day, leaving me exhausted every night when I get to the hotel at around midnight. The only thing that really keeps me going these days is Mila. Because even though I can't wait to see her, her texts are a fresh breath of air, and they help me through every single day.

Just got home. Hope you had a great rest of the day, Lucky.

Unsurprisingly, she replies within minutes. I noticed she's a night owl, staying up late rather than waking up early. It was quite the typical Monday, I guess.