3.

I narrow my eyes at her in confusion. She visibly frowns and shakes her head as if to clear her thoughts before rephrasing her question.

"When is your flight, if you don't mind me asking?"

Oh. Oh. "I don't mind at all. We weren't whispering anyway," I chuckle lightly. "My flight's on Friday."

She smiles broadly, putting her perfectly white teeth on display. One would easily mistake her for a toothpaste model. And to think I would know how that ironic situation feels like...

She's wearing black skinny jeans with a navy blue long sleeved blouse. She finished off with black pumps that tie around her ankles. She shifts uncomfortably in her seat as she notices that I'm checking her out.

"I'm sorry, it's just that," I struggle to find the right words, "you don't seem like you belong in such an area."

"I didn't get the memo that clearly stated how one should dress in order to 'belong in such an area'."

"I'm sorry, once again-" I was cut off by her laughter. And not the well-tamed disciplined one that became a stereotype for all ladies to practice, but a real one. One that's loud and cute and makes the next person feel light.

"Relax, I'm just kidding," she says dramatically and adds a wink.

"You enjoy repeating what people say?"

"Nope," she takes a sip of her drink. "Just what you say. And yes, you're right, I don't belong in such an area. My friend told me we were going out but she didn't say where to."

"Where is she then?"

"Around." Again with the weird answers. She turns her body to scan the dance floor. "She'll come find me here, so she said."

"Are you from around this place?"

She hesitates to answer at first, glancing at the counter before meeting my eyes again.

"No, I'm also from New York. I just came here to visit my mom."

I might be stepping on personal grounds, but it's interesting that maybe, just maybe, her background might be like mine.

"I'm guessing your parents are divorced?"

"They were never married," she says sadly, trying to disguise her discomfort. Before I could drop the subject, she looks up and gives me a small smile. "How about yours?"

"Divorced. Seven years now. Do you have any siblings?"

"Only child," she makes the peace sign with her fingers. "You?"

"Too."

"Fourth thing we have in common," she smiles. I raise my eyebrow in question.

"What are the first three?"

She rests her elbow on the counter and moves closer. I mirror her actions and watch her roll her eyes while a smile dances on her perfectly symmetrical face.

"One, we're both wearing black jeans. Two, we're from New York and three, we're both leaving for the City on Friday." I smile at that and she looks down, seemingly shy under my stare. "They aren't really things we have in common," she mutters quickly.

"Didn't know you were so observant and attentive," I poke her ribs, making her jump. "What time's your flight?"

"Seven a.m. Who in their right mind would schedule a flight that early?" she asks in an upset tone and I burst out laughing and pat her hand reassuringly.

"You do know we have two options, right?"

"Which are?"

"We can either sleep at the airport on Thursday evening or arrive supper early on Friday."

She opens her mouth to say something and big brown eyes burn holes into my face like I'm the crazy one. "I'm fond of neither," she says after a mental conversation about the pros and cons of each option.

"Do you have a better plan?" I ask, feeling my victory dance well on its way because there could be no better plan than mine.

"What would you do?"

"Me?" I feign serious thought. "I'll wake up super early. Do you have a car? I can come pick you up if you want."

I couldn't stop myself trying to help her.

"Promise me you'll do exactly as I told you."

"I-I can't," I cried as she held my shoulders tighter.

"You have to," she choke back on tears."

"I promise I'll help her next time I see her."

"No, I don't have a car, but I can take cab," she says, her voice cutting through a memory that jumped in.

"Come on, let me pick you up, please?" I pout. She laughs and puts her hand on my arm, pushing me away slightly. "I'll take that as a yes."

"Whatever," she says as she reaches for her phone and her face falls. She turns her phone in her hand and shows me her home screen.

"Well that's an interesting picture you have there," I murmur honestly. The picture she saved as her background picture is of a cat wearing a pink lace tutu and standing on its hind-legs. The cat is wearing a crown and little heels as well. Pretty damn cute if you ask me. Or maybe it's just the whiskey speaking

"No. The time, nerd. It's twelve to three. My mom will be so pissed," she chuckles softly.

"Let's go then. I'll take you home." Whoa, slow down there. Already driving her around? She also gives me the exact same look my inner self is giving me.

I pull my wallet out from my front pocket but she beats me to it by slamming the money to pay for our drinks on the counter, catching my attention at the same time. I try to give her one of my deathly glares but she tilts her head to the side and smiles innocently. I shake my head and rub my temples as I fight the urge to smile.

"I'll just text Tori and tell her I'm leaving." Not ten seconds later, her phone rings and I watch her decline the call. "Alright, let's go."

"Just like that?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Aren't you gonna answer that?"

"Pfft," she sighs dramatically. "She clearly received my text, that's why she was calling."

"Won't she-"

"Enough with the questions, yeah?"

I take her hand in mine and pull her closer to me. I put my arm around her shoulder and she leans into me as more people are crowding the exit.

Once outside, I drop my arm from her shoulder. We approach my car and she scoffs unbelievably at first. Ouch. She raises an eyebrow as I open the silver Audi Aventador's passenger door for her. She frowns before taking a step back and staring at my hand holding the car's door.

I'm about to ask her what the matter is when I finally downs on me. I drop my hand and rub my temples, fighting the urge to do something, anything to her.

"I'm sorry, I'm just-" she starts but I cut her.

"It's okay, I understand. Independent women are hard to find these days. Want to do the honour?" I smirk.

I stand back and watch her close the door before reopening it. I'm lost for words at how incredible she can be when she wants to be. I probably look foolish with the smile on my face right now. I get in the car and buckle up. I look at her and see that she's fighting back a smile.

"Why are you so extra?"

"That's the only way I know to get things done. Sue me," she smiles.

I reverse out of the parking lot and head straight to the highway. I glance at her and seeing that she's fully focused on the outside world.

"You want to let the window down?" I ask when I slow down and make a turn. She nods and I press the button to let her window down completely.

"Isn't it weird how we're easily trusting each other?" she asks.

I laugh at that. True. She just has this aura radiating around her that makes it easy for someone to like her instantly.

"I guess you're right, but what about you, huh?"

"What about me?" She pouts.

"You're letting me drive you."

"Ha! I could be a terrorist for all you know," she points out.

"Since when did they start making terrorists beautiful?"