Unwilling

by LK Collins

  “Jesus, only you could fall in love on a fuckin’ airplane.”

  4

  Sasha

  “Taxi?” I yell as I bust out through the airport doors, needing not only the fresh air but to get away from whatever just happened.

  A yellow cab pulls up, and the driver gets out to take my bag from me. As I flop down in the back seat, the smell in the air is stale. “Where to, Miss?” the driver asks me as he gets behind the wheel.

  “The Hilton, midtown, please.” With those words, he pulls away from the airport, and I find myself drawn back as if I left something behind. Which is completely impossible, seeing as I have all my bags. But I know what it is. It’s the pull Westin has over me. That should be the last thing in the world I’m feeling, or interested in. It’s obvious he’s a womanizer. I could tell by the way he was talking to whoever on his phone before we boarded the plane and how he flirted with the stewardess then tried to figure out how long I was in town for so he could get with me.

  No, thank you.

  A man like him is the last thing I need in my life. For starters, I need to find a good man. Not a loose cannon who I'm sure only wants to sleep with me once and then be done.

  And who does he think he is, acting as if he can read me by my accent—I don’t have an accent.

  Needing clarification for my own sanity, I turn my cell phone back on and dial my sister.

  “Hell—”

  “Do I have an accent?” I cut her off.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Would you just answer the question?” I scold her.

  “I don’t know what you’re asking me.”

  “I’m asking if I sound like I’m from the South.”

  “Yeah, we all do. Me, you, Tommy, Dad, and Mom.”

  “I don’t hear it.”

  “Okay, how’s this?” she clears her throat and then says to me, “How was the flight, Sasha?” in the most monotone and proper way I’ve ever heard her speak.

  “See, now that sounds like you have an accent,” I tell her.

  “What’s got you all bothered, anyway? What’s it matter how you talk?”

  “It’s nothing.”

  “Don’t nothing me,” she quips back, and I rest my head against the seat, looking out at the bustling sights of New York City. I don’t even know where to begin, or if I want to. She’ll just get all excited and force me to tell her everything.

  “It was just this guy I sat next to on the plane, that’s all.”

  “Oh my God, a guy? You have to tell me everything.”

  “There’s nothing to tell, he’s a total douche bag.”

  “Uh, then why are you even bringing him up?”

  “Here you are, Miss,” the cab driver chimes in before I can answer my sister.

  “I’m at the hotel, Rach, I’ll call you after I’m settled into my room.”

  “Okay, but you better call me soon.”

  “I will. Love you, bye.”

  I hang up with my sister and pay the cab driver, then check in at the hotel. Once I’m on the way up to my room, I realize I’ve only been thinking about one thing—Westin.

  I can't believe I'm thinking about him; he should be the last thing on my mind, but for some reason, he isn’t. Forcing myself again to forget about the complete stranger that is consuming my thoughts, I get into my room and dive into my work. This is the reason I came here in the first place.

  I can’t let some stranger have that control over me. I’m stronger than that. Especially with all the heartache I’ve endured. I should know better than anyone how trusting a man can come back and bite you. So I do my damnedest to forget all about Westin Smith.

  After preparing all day for tomorrow’s meeting, I can hear my stomach growling, but it was a nice break and distraction from reality.

  Normally, I’d order room service, but seeing how long it takes and how insanely famished I am, I slip on my flats before heading down to the hotel lobby.

  When I emerge from the elevator, the lighting is dim, but not dim enough because as I head toward the restaurant, I spot Westin.

  Motherfucker!

  He’s sitting at the bar, hot as hell, wearing the same suit he had on when we met on the plane; the only difference is the girl on his arm. Jesus, she doesn’t look a day past twenty as she throws her head back laughing loudly at him. She’s gripping onto his bicep, and for some reason it makes my stomach churn. I shouldn’t feel this way; he’s not mine. But I guess he could’ve been, had I not been such a coldhearted bitch.

  Seeing how quickly he’s moved on reminds me that I made the right decision. So, I stick to my guns, following that feeling deep in the pit of my stomach that is telling me he’s no good for me.

  As I rush out of the hotel, the bellhop opens the door for me, and I give him a smile of gratitude. Then quickly put my feet one foot in front of the other. The cool New York air hits me in the face like a ton of bricks but is so refreshing at the same time. I’ve been cooped up in my room since I arrived and didn’t realize how much I needed some fresh air. Putting my hands in the pockets of my sweater, I walk not sure where I’m heading, but know it’s far away from here and Westin.

  “Sasha!” My name is called out loudly, and before I can turn to see who it is, I’m being yanked backward.

  “What are you doing here?” Westin asks me, a tad bit winded like he just ran after me. Before I even have the time to panic by his gesture and the way he's touching me, his light eyes consume me, sparkling in the dim city lights. And I just stare. “Sasha, you okay?” he asks.

  “Yeah, I’m fine. Just a little shocked by the way you yanked me back, that’s all.”

  “Sorry, I was just surprised to see you.” I look down at his hand, which is still gripping onto my arm. It’s like he’s scared to let me go, scared that if he does, I’ll run. But with my next words, he loosens his grip, and I take my arm back.

  “Why? Because I interrupted your date?” The words leave my mouth before I even realize what I’m doing. I look in through the glass windows of the hotel, watching the girl who he was with, pick at her fingernail polish.

  “I’m not on a date,” he declares and points back in at the woman.

  “Well, I don’t care if you are.”

  “You seem to care,” he challenges back, and I don’t like it. I don’t like what he’s doing to me.

  I don’t like him.

  “Well, I don’t. Now, if you don’t mind, I need to eat.”

  “Let me take you out.”

  “No, I already told you, I’m not into guys like you.”

  “What does that even mean?” his eyebrows furrow together, the look on his face is blank. Does he really have no idea why I won’t go out with him? He's such an arrogant ass!

  “For starters, I’m focused on my career right now, not dating or hooking up.”

  “I'm just trying to talk to you.”

  “I don’t know you. But from what I’ve quickly observed today, I don’t think your intentions are good. I heard the way you spoke to that woman on your phone at the airport before we boarded the plane

  “That was—”

  I cut him off, “Let me finish.” He rolls his eyes. “And not to mention the way you eye-fucked the stewardess, watched porn on your cell phone during the flight when you thought I was sleeping, and now her?” I point inside the lobby.

  He’s got a smirk on his face I could slap off. “Are you finished?” he asks me so calmly, and I nod. “I was on the phone with my business partner, who is a guy for your information. We always fuck with each other and talk dirty just playing around. And the stewardess, I was definitely not eye-fucking her. Now, if you wanna turn around, I’ll eye-fuck the shit out of you.”

  “You are ridiculous!” I shout at him, shaking my head prepared to storm off, but my fucking feet won’t move.

  “And I was not watching porn on the plane; I was watching a basketball game. Maybe you caught a glimpse of a Carl’s Jr. commercial or someth
ing. But trust me, I don’t watch porn. I don’t need to.”

  “I don’t need to know anything more, nor do I want to,” I tell him, raising my hands in the air in front of me. I’m done with Westin Smith.

  5

  Westin

  “So now that I’ve explained myself, may I please take you out?” I ask Sasha trying to be as nice and proper as possible. It seems like that’s what she’s into. She doesn’t answer me, and as we just stare at one another, I want to do so much more than just take her out.

  “I’m sorry, but you’re not the kind of guy I’m into.”

  “Bullshit!” I shout.

  “You can think whatever you want, but it’s the truth. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have an early morning meeting tomorrow, so I’d love to grab a bite to eat and then get to bed.”

  I lick my lips, my mind going wild with so many wicked images from that one sentence.

  Oh, I have something you can eat, sweetheart.

  “Okay, then what about dinner tomorrow?”

  “No.”

  “Lunch?”

  “Nope.” She’s stubborn, not giving in and before I ask again, she turns and walks away from me just like she did at the airport.

  “Breakfast,” I holler after her and she gives me the bird, my eyes fucking the shit out of her tight ass.

  “Please?” I pathetically beg, but she shakes her head at me, and I swear if it would help, I’d drop to my knees and plead with her. Jesus, I don’t have a clue how a woman I barely know can have this power over me, but she does.

  I watch Sasha until she turns down another block before going back to the hotel. The chick I was with is flirting with another guy at the bar. Fine by me, I was on the fence if I was gonna fuck her, or not.

  Taking my seat, the bartender asks me, “You want another?”

  “Nah, just close me out,” I tell him and then raise my drink to the man the woman’s now with.

  After paying my tab, I walk past the front desk, and I’m tempted to see if I can figure out which room Sasha is staying in. Maybe I could send her some flowers, or wine, or something to show her that I’m not a bad guy. But considering she’s made it clear I’m not her type, that would only make things awkward. Plus, knowing my dumb ass, I’d just show up at her room.

  Sticking with my gut, I head back to my room, pushing away all thoughts of Sasha. Once inside, I click down the AC a few degrees, as it’s hot as hell in my room, then grab my iPad to check my email and see if Dex sent me the last of what I need for the deal I’m working on while here. TIC, as they call themselves, is expanding and contacted us to engineer the design of a new building, which is not the normal way things go in my line of work. Normally, we bid on deals that we are interested in and only take what we like. However, the money behind this deal was too good to turn down or question, for that matter. Typically, we would never take on a project knowing so little about it. But both Dex and I agreed this, along with Anderson Global and now Casper Industries, is what we need to take our company to the next level.

  In my email inbox are the first plans I’ve seen from the architectural company. They just came through, and if I’m honest, they are really confusing. Grabbing my phone, I call Dex to see if he’s looked them over, so maybe he can help me make sense of what the Architect is proposing. After all, we have to engineer their design, and I’m already going in blind.

  “What’s up, bitch?”

  “Did you look over the blueprints for the TIC deal, yet?”

  “No, did they come in?”

  “Yeah, and they don’t really make sense.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, they are all out of order, and I can’t decipher what’s what or where to even start.”

  “Well, that’s why you’re there to figure it out. With how much they are paying us I’m sure you’ll get it all straightened out in the meeting tomorrow.”

  “Really? That’s all the advice you have? You aren’t even gonna take a look at the plans with me?”

  “I’m not your babysitter, Westin,” he says and then whispers, “I have my hands full here.”

  In the background, I hear my cousin Ally talking and ask Dex, “How’s she holding up?”

  “She’s good.”

  “I’m not good,” my cousin hollers and I let out a laugh.

  “Let me talk to her.”

  “Hey,” Ally answers in a somber tone.

  “What the fuck’s wrong with you?”

  “My feet are so swollen, Westin. I don’t even have ankles anymore.”

  “Damn, you got a bad case of the cankles?” I tease her.

  “Screw you!”

  “I’m only joking. Did you call your doctor?”

  “Yes, I’m going in tomorrow.”

  “Well, rest; put your feet up. I’m sure nothing is wrong. Plus, fat ankles or not, Dex isn’t going anywhere.”

  “Geez, thanks.”

  “I mean it,” I tell her.

  “I know. Hey,” she whispers, “don’t forget to pick up that thing we talked about.”

  “I won’t. Now go enjoy some relaxation before you have a screaming baby at home. I still remember when your mom and dad brought you home from the hospital and how loud you were. God, I hated you.”

  “And I love you, too.”

  She knows I’m joking. My cousin is the only family I’ve got. My parents passed away in a car accident when I was just out of college. It forced me to understand a harsh lesson that life is too short. After they were gone, I had to grow up faster than I’d ever imagined. One day, I was ready to take on the world, and the next I had to suddenly bury both my parents and handle all the affairs of their estate. Which is something I still don’t know how I managed to do.

  But thinking back, losing them brought Ally and me closer than ever. Minus losing my parents, I wouldn’t change a thing. It taught me that anything you want out of life, you have to work hard for and cherish because nothing is promised.

  6

  Sasha

  Rolling over in the plush confines of my cozy hotel bed, I look out at the view of New York and notice the sun is bright and high in the sky. Panicked, I check the clock on the nightstand, and sure enough, I overslept.

  Grabbing my cell phone, I press the unlock button but notice the battery is dead.

  Shit, that’s why my alarm didn’t wake me.

  I fidget with the cord hoping the phone will turn back on when I plug it in. I need to email or call to let the company I’m meeting with know I’m running late. But watching the dead battery flash on my screen, I know it’s not going to boot right up, and I need to get going.

  Rummaging through my suitcase, I yank out my clothes, my wrinkled clothes, that so need ironing, but I don’t have the time.

  Sonofabitch!

  Running back to my phone, I see it is still not on. Frustrated that I’m about to blow the most significant meeting of my life, I get dressed, brush my teeth, and pull my hair half back. As I look at my reflection in the mirror, I see my cheeks are flushed. The evidence that I’m anxious is clear as day.

  But knowing what I have to do, I leave my hotel room in a hurry. Praying my plans will speak for themselves and overshadow my frumpy appearance.

  “Taxi?” I yell as I emerge into the crisp morning. But I’m a second too late because the one I’m running to drives away. The morning chill is really quite rough, and instinctively, I wrap my arms around my body. As I hold onto myself, I realize I don’t have a bra on. Looking down at my nipples, I see they are hard, and my wrinkled silk shirt doesn’t hide my wardrobe mishap one bit.

  Another cab pulls up, and I hop into the back, telling the driver where I’m headed. As he pulls away from the hotel, I really wish I had time to grab a bra from my room, but I know there is no way that can happen if I want to make it to my meeting with any chance of saving my reputation.

  Unconsciously, I reach into my purse for my phone, but it’s not there.

  Shit!


  Sitting back, with nothing to do but grip my purse, I close my eyes and focus on my presentation. On what I’m going to say, and how I’m going to explain my vision to what I’m sure will be to a bunch of men. That’s what I always have to deal with.

  Being a woman in the architectural world has had its ups and downs. For starters, no one would take me seriously in the beginning. That was until I designed a state of the art security firm in Washington, D.C. Once that deal was finished, it put my name on the map in a way I never dreamt possible. For instance, my meeting today is one that I didn’t pursue—they pursued me—which is a first. But still, after so much rejection, I always fear what I’m about to walk into with these meetings.

  “Here you are, Miss,” the cab driver says. I pay him and then exit the cab. I look up at the building and the huge vacant lot next to it where the project will be taking place. To most people, it’s empty space, but to me, I can see my vision taking shape already. Walking into the building, I head to reception and am quickly escorted to the meeting room. I grip the door handle, taking one deep breath before I walk in. Right away, all eyes are on me. All twelve of them to be exact.

  “I’m very sorry I’m late,” I announce, making eye contact with the man at the head of the table whom I assume is the one in charge.

  “It’s quite alright, Miss Monroe. We’re pleased you could make it.”

  “Thank you.” I shake his hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” I tell him before taking my place in the front of the room. Setting down my purse, my presentation is already on the projector, and I ask, “Have you all watched the presentation yet?”

  “No,” he says.

  “Okay. Well, good morning, I’m Sasha Monroe, the head architect for the new TIC build, and I look forward to working with you all.”

  The men all smile at me as I look around at each and every one of them. Nervously, I cross my arms remembering I’m up here without a bra on. I want to apologize again for getting in late, but I don’t, as I hope my plans speak for themselves. “I’d like to begin with the three-dimensional presentation, then move into the detailed sketches.”