“How romantic.” I couldn’t believe him. “Was that the entire card?”

“Unfortunately.” The sound of water running was in her background. “The roses are quite lovely though. I’ll keep them in my room. Anyway, have you finally had hot sex with the men in first class yet?”

“No, can’t say that I have.” I slipped out of the bookstore and headed up the steps to catch the Sky-Link tram. “I’m still getting used to traveling so often, so I haven’t had the time.”

“Bullshit, Gillian...You’re still stuck on that guy you met at the rooftop party, aren’t you?”

“What? No, no, it’s definitely not that.” I didn’t even attempt to sound convincing. “The time zones and the first class service is taking a toll on me. That’s all.”

“Oh, I’m sure.” She laughed. “I’ll give you one more week to hang on to your fantasies of that guy, but since you’re going to be back in New York next week, we’re going to get you laid by someone else. ASAP.”

“You know, I am so grateful to have a friend like you who keeps my vagina’s visitors in her weekly thoughts. Thank you, so, so much.”

“You are so, so, welcome,” she said. “Oh and one last thing. Your mail is starting to get out of hand again. Winnie the Pooh Bear, Anne of Green Gables, Kimberly B., and Katniss Everdeen sent ten letters each this week. I took the liberty of stuffing the envelopes in the corner with the hundreds of others you never open, but seriously, Gillian... There has to be at least a hundred letters all over our place. When are you going to finally do something about that?”

“Depends. When are you going to stop bringing guys home and waking up all of our neighbors with your over the top sex?”

She immediately ended the call, her loud laughter coming right before the beep.

“Now heading to Terminal A. Gates 1-21.” A soft voice came over the speakers as I boarded the tram. “Please hold on and step away from the doors.”

The doors glided shut and the tram lunged forward against the tracks, forcing all aboard to grip the handrails a little tighter, to look up at the gate map and pinpoint how many more stops we’d need to make until we could get on the ground again.

Outside the windows, several airplanes stood still in preparation for a turn on the runway, and ground controllers waved their bright sticks in the air to assist pilots with parking at the gates. Across from me, two lovers held hands and laughed as they complained about airport security, and next to me, a woman shouted into her cell phone about “rude ass gate agents.”

“Now stopping at Terminal C. Gates A21-39.” The tram stopped and I let go of the handrail so I could move to the other side, but as the doors opened, I stopped dead in my tracks.

The man who was now boarding, the man who’d earned the starring role in all of my latest wet dreams, was turning the head of every woman who looked his way. He was staring at his cell phone, completely oblivious to the blushing cheeks and whispers from the onlookers, and I took several steps backwards, moving back to where I’d been.

Confused, I kept my eyes on him, realizing that he looked even sexier now than I remembered. His full lips were pressed into a firm, angry line, and as he tapped his phone’s screen, I couldn’t help but think about how those same fingers had caressed me, how he’d slipped them inside of me.

There was only one problem with how he appeared right now, though. He was a pilot. An actual pilot.

Dressed in a navy blue uniform, his four gold captain’s stripes stood stiff and bright on his broad shoulders. His blazer was perfectly tailored to his build, not completely hiding the chiseled abs he possessed underneath. And as his free hand gripped a handrail, his hat fell forward, obscuring his beautiful blue eyes.

I blinked a few times, trying to make sense of this, refusing to accept that this wasn’t some sort of mind trick. The more I thought about it though, the more it seemed to add up: He was never home in his condo, didn’t invest too much time into making his space feel too personal outside of those aerial photography pictures, and our first conversation on the rooftop party about the planes made so much more sense now. I just didn’t want it to.

The tram came to a jerky stop when we reached another set of gates, and his eyes remained glued to his phone.

I tried to tear my gaze away from him, to look outside the windows again, but as he clenched his jaw and swiped his screen, I couldn’t help but stare just a little while longer.

More passengers boarded the tram, and as I stole one last glance at him, he looked up and turned his head toward me.

He raised his eyebrow and slowly looked me up and down, his expression shifting from stoic to confused. Then that familiar, cocky smile tugged at his lips.

He let go of the handrail and walked over—gripping the handrail next to me and letting his hand brush against mine. “Hello, Gillian.”

“Gillian?” I feigned surprise. “No, I think you have me confused with someone else.”

“Your name tag says, ‘Gillian,’ Gillian.” He smiled even wider, looking at it. “I was also burying my cock inside of your pussy four weeks ago, so I’m pretty sure I don’t have you confused with someone else.”

The woman standing next to us gasped and moved away.

“Did you...” I blushed, in utter disbelief that he’d said that aloud. “Did you really have to say that, Jake?”

“Did you really have to act like you didn’t know me?” He raised his eyebrow. “I rewound my security tapes back from the last time we spoke. I didn’t catch you with the other guy you mentioned, the one who’s better than me supposedly.”