The Mysterious Mr. Hastings

My seatmate was a classic womanizer; tall, good-looking, and clearly intelligent, though he wasn't exactly ideal traveling company. He seemed a few years older than me, likely in his early thirties. He was fit and striking, and when those green eyes of his caught mine, it felt as if he were trying to see right into my soul. His light brown hair wasn't cropped short in the back, but styled in that carefully messy look; his boyish smile and clean-shaven face were undoubtedly the undoing of many women.

He and his friend were in such a rush to deplane that one of them dropped his wallet. I tried calling out to them, but they vanished into the crowd. Once I was off the plane, I looked inside. It contained some cash, two cards, a photo of a five-year-old boy hugging a massive dog, and a slip of paper with an address scrawled on it. I hailed a cab and headed to the address.

I arrived at a dilapidated apartment building; I was thankful I didn't have to live in a neighborhood like this. A lone lightbulb flickered in the musty hallway, and shouting echoed from several apartments. I stopped in front of the door number from the slip and knocked. No answer. I leaned against the door to wait; people always head home after a flight, and I figured one of the two men would show up eventually.

"Well, well," the door opposite me creaked open, and a burly man stepped out wearing a grimy tracksuit. The odor clinging to both the apartment and the man made my nose wrinkle. "Look what the wind blew in."

"Excuse me," I said, keeping my voice steady. "Do you know the gentleman who lives here? I'm looking for him."

"He's brought plenty of women up here," the man sneered, "but none of 'em ever waited for him." He laughed, a raspy, unpleasant sound. "What do you want with him? Did he knock you up?"

I flushed bright red. The man stepped into the hallway with a lecherous grin.

"You can wait at my place," he said, closing the distance. I pressed myself into the door behind me. I desperately needed to use the restroom, but nothing would convince me to set foot in his place.

"No," I managed, "I'm fine right here."

"Come on, sweetheart," he said, slamming his hands against the door on either side of my head. "Don't play hard to get."

I clutched my shoulder bag to my chest, bracing myself. I was ready to drive my knee between his legs, but fortunately, it didn't come to that.

"What's going on here?" a commanding voice echoed from the hallway.

The man flinched and stepped back. I finally dared to breathe.

"Chris," the man said, forcing a fake smile. "This lady was waiting for you, and I was just keeping her company. Seems you knocked her up." The man laughed, and I turned red all over again. Chris didn't even look at me; he was carrying a gift bag along with his backpack.

"I've told you before, Benji-one more stunt and I'm calling the super," Chris said coldly. "Get inside, and don't you dare speak to my guests ever again."

Benji scurried into his apartment and slammed the door.

"I'm not an ex-girlfriend of yours," I said defensively. "We met on the plane."

The man was taller than me; the top of my head reached only his nose.

"I remember," he said with a soft smile. "How can I help you?"

"Either you or your friend dropped a wallet," I said, handing it over. He took it and glanced inside. "This was the address on the slip, so I stopped by to return it."

"Thank you," he said. "Want to come in for a few minutes?" he asked, unlocking the door.

"Could I use your restroom?" I asked. "Just for a minute. I won't be in the way."

"Of course," Chris said, swinging the door open.

I took off my shoes and looked around. It was a studio apartment where the kitchen and the tiny living room were separated by a kitchen island. The living area held a sofa, a TV, and a desk. In the other corner was a large queen-size bed, partitioned off by a few dressers near the bathroom. Everything looked new; the place had clearly been recently renovated.

"It's the closed door," he said, pointing to the only one near the bed. I hurried inside.

The bathroom was clean and tasteful. I finished quickly, washed my hands, and stepped back out.

"Would you like a glass of water?" Chris asked, sitting on a barstool at the island.

"No, thank you," I said. I was thirsty, but I didn't want to linger.

"You didn't drink anything the entire flight," Chris said pointedly as he poured a glass anyway.

I stepped over to the kitchen island, positioning myself directly between the counter and a barstool. I faced Chris with no intention of sitting down.

"Thank you," I said, accepting the glass. He simply nodded. "It's a very nice apartment."

"I live alone; I don't need much space," Chris said. "Do you live far from here?"

"No," I replied. "This address was on my way from the airport. I'm about fifteen minutes away."

"Let me pay for your cab since you went to the trouble of coming here," he offered with a smile.

"That's not necessary, thank you."

"Then I'll take the gesture as a personal compliment," he said with a confident grin.

"That would be quite conceited of you," I laughed. "This could easily have been your friend's address; I would have returned the wallet either way," I said matter-of-factly. He burst out laughing.

"And yet, I was the only one you saved on the plane," he countered.

"Well, given how much you complained, I'm not sure that was a good idea," I teased. "The dog in the photo is cute," I added. "The one in your wallet."

"The little boy isn't cute?" he asked with a charming, boyish smile.

"He's barely visible in the picture," I answered, laughing.

"That was my dog, Peanut," he said, his expression softening. "He was already part of the family when I was born."

"Cute dog," I repeated.

"Thank you. Do you have one?" he asked curiously.

"A dog is the last thing I need right now," I laughed.

His eyes began to linger on my face in silence. I quickly finished the rest of my water. "I really have to go."

"You're welcome to stay. No need to rush," he said with a smile.

He reached out toward my hand. I jumped back before he could touch me, but the momentum sent me right into the tall barstool behind me. With a yelp, I tripped over it and went down.

"Are you okay?" Chris hurried around the counter, stifling a laugh as I scrambled to get back on my feet. "I only wanted to take your glass," he added.

"I'm fine," I said, my face heating up. "I'm sorry."

Chris smiled and uprighted the chair. I slipped my shoes back on.

"Thank you for the water," I said. "I have to go; they're waiting for me."

I opened the door and headed toward the stairs. He followed me out.

"I'll walk you down and wait for the cab with you," he stated firmly. "This neighborhood is no place for a woman alone at this hour."

"Thank you," I said.

We waited for the taxi in silence. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him scan me a few times before he finally spoke.

"You didn't answer my dinner invitation," he said.

"I must have forgotten," I said with a smile. I'm not in the habit of dining with womanizers-not that I date much anyway. And it was definitely best to keep my distance. He was way too disarming.

"Then say yes," he replied with that heart-melting, boyish smile.

The taxi pulled up to the curb just then. I exhaled in relief, while he let out a frustrated sigh."Good night," I said, and climbed into the back seat.