billion book
Passenger Princess: Chapter 16
“Are you ready?” His voice is gruff and annoyed from outside my room and I can’t help but smile. I’ve been done getting ready for nearly five minutes now, just sitting here scrolling on my phone.
We’re on the third week of our tour and I’ve learned quite a bit about my new, temporary best friend.
One, he absolutely hates when I tell him he’s my new bestie, hence why I’ve started to sprinkle the term of endearment into my conversations even more.
Two, he has a thing about being aggressively early for everything, so sometimes, I like to spend a little extra time getting ready just to push it. He usually gets to my room about an hour before he tells me I have to be ready, at which point I let him in and lock myself in the bathroom until I’m done. We’re at least a good twenty minutes early for everything, but not being forty minutes early annoys him just enough to bring me joy.
Three, he finds my primping completely unnecessary and much too timely, not that I care at all. I like getting pretty. Some people meditate, some workout, some journal—I spend time in the bathroom alone, listening to my favorite music and getting dolled up.
“Just about!” I say, moving around some things on the counter to make noise and smiling as I do.
“I know you’re just fucking with me, Ava, you’re not even doing anything.” Finally, I open the door and smile at him.
“You got me.” Walking to the table, I grab the small bag I packed earlier with the essentials, then turn to look at him. “Let’s hit it.” He doesn’t move; instead, he gives me a top-to-toe look that heats my body. I force myself to move from where I stand, smiling and moving toward the door, but I eventually pause when he doesn’t follow.
“Is that what you’re wearing?” he asks.
“Yeah, you like?” I twirl to make my short pink tennis skirt flare out, revealing the barely-there shorts underneath, then adjusting the white sports top. There’s a good three-inch gap between the waist of the skirt and my top, leaving a swatch of bare skin, and the pads in the bra make my boobs look fantastic, if I do say so myself. Add a pair of cute little bows to the ties of my low pigtails and some gold jewelry, and the outfit is perfection.
“There isn’t much to it,” he says, crossing his arms on his chest.
I roll my eyes at him and close the gap between us. “That’s why I like it.”
“Not safe, going out like that when you don’t know what kind of creep you’ll run into.” I give him a soft, chiding smile.Material © of NôvelDrama.Org.
“Isn’t that your job? To protect me or whatever? You know, some of us like to look cute and don’t feel the need to wear black everything all the time.”
“We’re going on a hike up a mountain.”
“Yeah, and?” I ask, slightly confused, even though I absolutely know where he’s going with this. “I go hiking in this all the time.”
“You? Hiking?”
I cross my arms on my chest and roll my eyes. This is not a new refrain, and when I get to a trail in my cutesy little outfits, there’s almost always at least one man who looks at me and attempts to give me some kind of macho ‘this trail isn’t for little girls, sweetie,’ talk, but I just smile and flutter my lashes and thank them for their concern. Then I smile wide as I pass their panting asses an hour or two later.
“Yes, Jaime, I go hiking. It’s my favorite form of exercise. Fresh air, seeing the mountains, nature? Nothing like it.” His brow furrows in confusion.
“I thought you danced?”
I laugh, shake my head, and walk toward the door to leave, waving at Peach curled up on the bed as I do. “Bye, Peach!’ I call to her, then turn back to Jaime. ‘God, no. I learned three dances for the pageant, but I’m far from a dancer. I told you, I joined on a whim, won by accident.”
“I don’t think you won by accident. Saw your routine, some clips. You tried, worked hard, earned it.” He closes the door behind us, and I gasp, putting a hand to my chest.
“So you’re saying you looked me up,” I say with a smile, skipping ahead of him in the hallway. “I don’t think that’s part of the job description.”
“I have one job, Ava. It’s to keep you safe. Part of that is looking into you.”
“You so like me, Wilde,” I say over my shoulder.
He doesn’t respond, but, then again, he doesn’t have to.
A couple hours later, we’re hiking up a trail with Miss Maine, Sarah, the owner of the guided hiking tour business we’re highlighting, Anne, Tina, the PR manager for the organization, and a press crew. The weather is perfect, and Jaime and I are trailing toward the end of the pack. I’m pretty sure Tina would rather I be up front where the press is, talking up the pageant and my mission, but Anne is already there keeping them more than enough company.
In my opinion, the point of this tour is to highlight women-owned businesses in the states we visit, so I’d much rather Sarah spend some time promoting herself instead. Plus, being in the back means I get to walk next to Jaime who has kept his eyes diligently ahead, pointing out any rocks or tree roots I might trip on, just in case.
“You know, I think this way there’s a cliff with a lookout point,” I say conspiratorially, tipping my head to the left where there’s a small sign reading Lookout with an arrow.
“Mm,” Jaime says, his sunglasses covering his face and guarding his expression. I’d scouted out the trail ahead of time, noting that the location we were headed toward was gorgeous overlooking a ravine, but there was another, smaller area with gorgeous views not on the itinerary.
What a perfect coincidence we’re passing it now.
“We should sneak away,” I say. “They won’t even notice. I could get a cute little pic at the lookout and—”
“No.”
“What?”
“No, you’re not leaving this trail. We’re sticking to the schedule. Plus, the lookout trail is taped off.” He says it like I’m an idiot and missed the yellow caution tape. But unless it’s on a crime scene, I always see that kind of thing as a suggestion. Like, use caution when you go down this trail.
“It’s just a suggestion,” I say with a roll of my eyes.
“It’s not, and you’re not going. Recent storms have degraded the lookout point, making the area smaller to stand on.” I saw that as well while searching, but it didn’t say it was impossible to stand on, just that crowds were discouraged.
“Have you always been this boring?”
“Yes,” he replies instantly, and I roll my eyes.
“Come on. It would be a quick little diversion. Please?” I give him best puppy dog eyes, but they fail because he’s not even deigning to look at me. “Fine. I’m just going to go on my own then.” I speed up and move a bit toward the turn-off up ahead.
“Absolutely not,” he says, voice firm. I turn around, walking backward, and smiling at him as I do.
“A quick little detour. Nothing crazy.”
“Stay on the trail, Ava,” Jaime says through gritted teeth.
“Or what?” I ask, with a small smile on my lips.
“Or what?”
“Stay on the trail or what, Jaime?” Even through his sunglasses, a million answers cross his face, as if he can’t decide how to answer. I wish he’d give me his first thoughts rather than working them through seventeen filters before letting one through. I think things would get a whole lot more interesting if he did.
“Empty threats,” I whisper before I look behind him, then turn to look forward to where the other girls are distracting the media.
The perfect chance for space. Freedom.
I smile wide at Jaime, and then I run.