The Getaway Prince

Chapter 5: The Lies of Locke Lamora

My foot tapped against the base of the seat in front of me as I stared out the window, trying to look anywhere but directly beside me. Although I appeared lost in my own devices to those around me, with my headphones secure tightly on my head, my thoughts and senses were acutely attuned to any movement or sound that he created.

We were almost half-way through our flight time, and I hadn't gotten an ounce of sleep—my body couldn't relax, no matter how many breaths I secretly took. I couldn't maintain my focus. His scent was protruding into my nostrils with each inhale, and in each instance, my foot drummed just a little faster.

His body shook the seat as he coughed once, and then twice. He set down the book he was reading—the one that I had seen him evaluating before—and turned it upright on his lap, prior to pulling out a handkerchief to stifle the third cough.

“I'm sorry," he stated abruptly, rolling his handkerchief in his hands. Those glorious hands. I turned to him and pulled down my headphones to hear his voice better—the one that was so deep at times, that I could hear the bass through my own music.

Instead of giving him an answer, I supplied him with a soft smile of approval, and he chuckled lightly, placing the item back in his pocket. I couldn't speak; there was absolutely no way. I'm used to talking to people on a daily basis, but with someone so sculptured and poise in such a close proximity, all of my interpersonal skills had gone out the window and I was left with nothing but air in my throat.

“Look, I hate to be a bother, but I can hear your music coming through your headphones—"

My eyes widened—not at the thought of him being able to hear my music, but that I was too inconsiderate trying to distract myself that I didn't even realize it had been turned up so loud.

“Cr*p," I burst out suddenly, finally finding my voice. Of course, only when I felt I was intruding on someone else's silence. “I didn't notice. I can turn it down."

I reached for my phone and was about to hit the pause button when he waved his hand to stop me. Pinewood.

“No, no, it's Beethoven, am I right?"

What? There was no way this was real. I was asleep on the plane and had dreamt this entire scenario after our once in a lifetime interaction in the lobby. No man is this ideal: well dressed, attractive, body consisting of a kaleidoscope of muscles, enjoys reading, and now knows Beethoven by ear? I had to be sleeping, and right now, probably looked like a contorted child.

Except when I hit my elbow on the windowsill while trying to adjust myself in my seat, I realized it is very real, and that he was very real.

“Uh, yeah," I said, still in shock. “It—you know Beethoven?"

He smirked and laughed under his breath. “Doesn't everyone?" It was here for the first time that I heard a tinge of a Canadian accent.

“They do, but most people I meet only know his mainstream composes."

His grin widened and he looked down, shaking his head. “It's unfortunate, but true."

It was quiet, and he reached down to grab the book in his lap. Despite my reluctance to engage in conversation when this flight started, I didn't want it to end. I needed to find a way to keep him engaged, even if it was for a little longer. There was no saying that we'd see each other again after this.

I looked out of my peripheral vision at the book he held in his hands.

I cleared my throat. “What're you reading?" I knew exactly what it was—but that didn't matter. It would get him talking.

“Oh, this?" he asked, flipping the book over so he could see the cover. He squinted his eyes so his long eyelashes brushed together each time he blinked. “The Lies of Locke Lamora'," he noted, with his 'r's' rolling perfectly off his tongue.

“D-do you mind if I ask what it's about?" I said, taking a deep breath to concentrate on anything other than his absolutely sexy countenance.

“It's about an orphan who ends up working for this criminal organization called the 'Gentleman B*stards'," he stated, beating the book against his palm twice. When I didn't respond, he inhaled through his teeth creating a hissing sound. “I guess it's a book you have to read."

I snapped out of my haze. “Oh, no, it sounds fantastic," I assured. “Sorry—my mind has been elsewhere as of late."

…On you.

“Oh—I'm sorry. Well, if you ever need a good read to distract yourself, this is one I highly recommend."

“I'll remember that," I noted with a small, bashful grin. His eyes connected with mine as he smiled, and he closed the book, holding onto it on his lap. It was quiet between us again, only this time, I had a sense it was because he also wasn't sure of what to say.

I turned and opened my mouth to say something when he jumped lightly in his spot. “Do I know you from somewhere?" he probed.

I felt my body seize up. Sh*t. He remembered. This whole time, I was praying he didn't, and now I was forced to admit that yes, I was the creepy girl staring at him in the airport lobby.

“Erm…not that I know of," I lied, hoping he'd drop it.

But he didn't. His brows furrowed and he concentrated, as if he were combing through a million memories. And then I saw his eyes light up.

“You're the girl from the lobby. Earlier this morning."

I blushed. Cr*p, he knew and here he was, pointing it out on a plane, where I couldn't run away.

“Man," he said, like he was beating himself up. “I thought so. You had a stain on your shirt, in the right corner." He pointed to the exact spot on his own outfit and my head immediately flew down to my chest.

No, no, no. This couldn't be happening. This could not be happening. I searched my shirt left and right for any stain, only to look up when I heard his harmonious laugh.

“I'm kidding," he chuckled, putting his hand out and placing it on my forearm to stop me from looking.

And that's when I died and went to heaven. Ok, maybe that's a little too much. But I did, however, sense every cell in my body light up at once in electric ecstasy.

I sighed and let go of my shirt, rolling my eyes at my stupidity. I couldn't help but laugh with him.

“Thanks," I teased, relaxing into myself a little more after he had let go.

“I'm Tyler, by the way," he said, extending a hand out to me.

I hesitated. How could even his hands be so…appealing? I reached out and shook it, feeling that same shock. To hide my internal embarrassment, I grinned.

“Olivia."

As our conversation continued, I began to unwind and act more like myself. We continued to talk for the rest of the duration of the flight, not realizing how much time had passed until the pilot spoke over the intercom, alerting everyone of our descent into Greece.

Both of us looked at our phones and then at each other, surprised at how long we had been talking. We chuckled and then continued to discuss the arts until the plane had fully landed and docked. It was like no time had gone by and I had never felt so at ease with anyone other than Aubrey before. There was something different about him and I hoped that I would be able to see him again to figure it out.

So, when he asked me to dinner the following evening, I was more than happy to oblige.