Come Fly With Me (35 page)

"Alex..."

"It's
time
you
believe
in
yourself.
Stop
hiding
behind
excuses,
like
dead
relatives
and
whatever
other
story
you've
convinced
yourself
is
the
truth."

Allison
recoiled
at
his
tough
words.
She
went
to
the
door,
and
held
it
open.
"And
it's
time
for
you
to
go."

He
walked
over
and
wrestled
the
knob
out
of
her
stiff
hand.
"I'm
not
going
anywhere.
I'm
not
jumping
off
a
cliff
and
abandoning
you,
either.
So
you
might
as
well
get
that
through
your
stubborn,
self-absorbed
skull."

"Well,
you
sure
know
how
to
woo
a
girl."

He
looked
at
her
tenderly,
"You're
an
incredible
woman,
and
I
don't
know
what
happened
along
the
way
to
make
you
doubt
that."
He
looked
down
at
his
watch.
"It's
early
yet;
it's
only
nine.
I
don't
want
you
sitting
here
by
yourself.
I
would
love
to
stay
here
with
you
and...
but
I
don't
want
to
get
ahead
of
myself.
Put
on
a
pair
of
jeans,
and
let's
go
see
Damon
play
at
The
Beatnik."

She
was
a
mess
of
emotions.
He
had
her
on
this
roller
coaster.
She'd
felt
frozen
for
so
long,
that
the
heat
coming
off
Alex
felt
restorative—like
she'd
only
just
remembered
she
was
alive.
She
was
beginning
to
crave
it,
could
even
get
addicted
to
it
if
she
wasn't
careful.
Allison
looked
at
the
set
of
his
mouth.
He
didn't
look
like
he
was
going
anywhere.
She
nodded
slowly,
"Maybe
going
out
somewhere
isn't
such
a
bad
idea,
I'll
be
ready
in
a
few
minutes."

****

A
short
while
later
Allison
and
Alex
walked
into
the
smoke-filled
club
and
found
a
table.
She
coughed
for
a
couple
of
minutes
before
she
adjusted
to
the
air.
Apparently,
you
could
still
smoke
in
certain
parts
of
the
country,
Mayor
Bloomberg.
Damon
and
his
group
were
good
and
after
her
third
appletini,
Allison
felt
her
shoulders
start
to
loosen.
Her
confession
had
felt
so
freeing;
she
didn't
know
what
to
do
with
herself.
Alex,
on
the
other
hand,
looked
stressed
out.

"You
know
what,
Alex?
I'm
going
up
to
the
bar
and
getting
you
something
real
strong.
You
haven't
smiled
once
since
we
got
here."

"Ally,
I'm
driving."

"We'll
take
a
cab."
She
jumped
up
as
Alex
reached
out
to
stop
her.
He
followed
her
with
his
eyes
as
she
made
her
way
toward
the
crowded
bar.
It
had
been
ages
since
she'd
done
anything
spontaneous
or
youthful.
She
felt
free
and
bold
and
wished
Alex
would
lighten
up.
Go
figure
that
he
never
took
anything
seriously
and
chose
this
time
to
step
out
of
character
and
wear
his
serious
hat.
A
good-looking
guy
at
the
bar
offered
to
buy
her
a
drink,
which
she
politely
declined.
She
walked
back
to
Alex
with
two
fingers
of
the
house
scotch.
He
left
it
untouched
on
the
table.

She
was
exasperated—she
needed
him
to
share
her
good
mood.
Allison
got
up
and
grabbed
his
hand.
She
led
him
onto
the
dance
floor,
filled
with
gyrating
bodies
in
various
stages
of
drink.
He
barely
moved.

"You're
so
inhibited—I
never
would
have
guessed."

"I
am
not
inhibited."

"That's
not
what
I
see,"
she
dared.

He
reached
over
and
spun
her
around
twice,
ending
in
a
dip.
He
backed
her
up
to
the
wall
and
reached
down
to
kiss
her
for
a
solid
two
minutes.
She
was
breathless
and
flushed
when
he
picked
up
his
head
to
look
her
square
in
the
eye.

"Care
to
see
more?"
he
asked
as
his
hand
slipped
under
her
sweater.

"I
believe
you,"
she
whispered
breathlessly.
"I
think
it's
time
to
leave."

"My
thoughts,
exactly."

"No,
uh,
no.
That's
not
what
I
meant,"
she
stammered.

"It
is
what
you
meant;
you're
just
being...inhibited."

The
next
morning
Allison
boarded
the
jet
and
saw
Alex
already
seated
comfortably.
She
felt
like
Hell,
and
looked
it
too.
She
had
downed
four
aspirins
earlier
and
her
headache
was
now
a
category
two.
She
marched
stoically
past
Alex,
but
his
hand
shot
out
to
stop
her.