No Kissing Allowed

Chapter 4: Gaps Between the Scenes

Chapter 4: Gaps Between the Scenes

Cora Glass had many fine qualities, but early rising had never been among them. It was far too early to be awake. Not yet light outside. She yawned and yearned for coffee.

She would buy some at the gate, she promised herself, as she gathered her belongings and re-checked the flight status on her phone.

Bora Bora - AF1685 - 8:48am - On Time / No gate assigned

She closed the door on her hotel room for the night, and her suitcase wheel clickety-clacked behind her as she headed for the elevators.

An odd sensation prickled Cora's scalp just then. She shuddered as she passed through the  elevator doors. Someone had walked across her grave, or so the saying went. She twisted her hair back and secured it with a clip. It was still wet from shower, and the sensation of damp tendrils against her face annoyed her.

She didn't realize until the doors closed that the elevator was going up instead of down. But it didn't matter. She'd let the elevator take her for a ride. One more brief diversion, courtesy of the universe. She'd be headed in the right direction soon enough.

Cora hummed softly to herself, a tuneless song, musing what might have happened had she stuck to her vow of "yes"-itude last night. After her date with James Bond, the show producer had Cora sign a pile of paperwork that she hadn't bothered to read. Then came the kicker. "Your flight for Cozumel leaves tomorrow morning at 7:30am sharp. Congratulations! You and Jamie were a match!"

Wait, what?

A month?

In Mexico?

With no one for company but him.

"No. Absolutely not."

Cora had drawn the line at last. She would say "yes" to a lot of things, but the universe had reached her outer limit. The TV production crew had flattered and cajoled, offered a hefty cash advance, and had an airline ticket issued in her name, but Cora stood firm. "Sorry. Nope. Not happening." Her foray into reality TV was a detour, not a destination. She'd agreed to lend an hour of her time, not a month.

The experience had occupied her thoughts all night. She'd checked out of her room, but the memory showed no signs of vacating the premises.

Her television debut could have gone much worse, she supposed. A momentary panic had overtaken her when the date began. She'd frozen, praying the producers would realize their mistake and cut things short before she humiliated herself entirely. She hated dating under normal circumstances, let alone publicly televised dates with men paid to look like James Bond for a living.

She had zero recollection of anything she said to him in the beginning. Pure word vomit. She hadn't settled down until they acknowledged the ridiculousness of the mismatch.

"We've got so much in common!"

"I can see why these crack matchmakers paired us."

Cora wondered if he knew she was a last minute sub. The only "matchmaker" who brought her to that cocktail table was pure random chance. The thought of it had helped her to relax, laughing with him at the sheer absurdity. It allowed her to dissociate just enough to function. She could watch herself interact with him from a safe distance, a viewer of the show rather than one of the participants.

She found it fascinating to observe the way he operated once she'd stepped outside her shell. How his every word and movement dripped with confidence. Suavity personified. He reminded her more of the fictional gentlemen who graced her nightly bedtime reading than anyone she'd encountered in reality. What must it be like to go through life with those looks and that much charm? Things must come to him so easily. He must be fighting off women like moths to a flame.