Shantel stood there for a beat longer, her boarding pass clutched in one hand, her purse in the other, the wheels of her suitcase unmoving behind her.
Richard reclined lazily in his seat, legs crossed, one brow arched in quiet amusement as if he expected her to smile and slide in beside him with some witty remark. But instead, her face hardened.
"No," she said flatly.
His smirk faltered. "No… what?"
"No, I'm not doing this," she said, stepping back into the aisle.
Richard straightened. "Doing what?"
"Whatever game this is," she said in a low but firm voice. "Whatever move you think you just pulled by booking yourself onto my flight and into the seat beside me like some smitten schoolboy who couldn't bear to say goodbye."
He gave a faint scoff. "Is that what you think I am?"
"I don't know what you are, Richard," she snapped, careful not to raise her voice too loud. "But right now, you're acting like a man who doesn't understand boundaries."
