I let out the loudest moan in my head. Why am I cursed to forever embarrass myself? I can't remember smashing any mirrors or crossing any black cats. I've nursed a few black cats to health during my time as a vet's assistant, but that's the closest I've ever got to them. Surely that would have given me good karma, not bad. Why am I a walking, talking series of unfortunate events?

I can take solace in knowing the guy who caught me is sort of friendly. Standoffish, yes, but friendly. He could have been so much worse; he could have probably called airport security and had me kicked out. Nice eyes too. Kind, but reserved.

Daxten Lowe.

As I walk to the table with, ugh, Nick sitting there waiting for me, I gaze outside the window. I can barely see the runways – thick, fluffy balls of snow is now falling from the sky.

It takes my breath away. If you know me, you will know I love anything to do with Winter. Christmas is coming – well, it's just under two months away – but already I'm excited. I mean, I start watching Hallmark Christmas films in September, so, yeah, I'm a little OTT.

I don't even realize I've walked straight past Nick. I hear him calling my name and it snaps me out of my festive-filled mind. I walk back to him and take a seat, never completely letting go of my gingerbread latte as I slip the backpack down my arms. The hot mug warms my hands.

'What were you thinking about?' he asks me. He's leaning back in his seat with one leg crossed over the other. He sports a turtle-neck jumper that's a striking shade of black. It matches his hair perfectly. 'Can't wait to get on the plane?'

I can't wait to get away from you.

'Something like that,' I reply. I rescue the gingerbread man from the whipped cream on my coffee.

I'm about to take a bite when he says, 'so what's bothering you, muffin?'

'Please don't call me that.'

'Something is definitely up – you're acting strange.'

'How about the fact that my ex-boyfriend purposefully booked a vacation here just so he could get the same flight home as me? How did you know I have a connecting flight here? Why didn't you book Cambodia to save yourself the trouble of finding me because this is all kinds of fucked up?'

Nick raises an eyebrow as if I was supposed to know the answer.

'You posted a photo of your itinerary on Instagram.'

Okay so maybe I do know the answer.

'Shit, I thought I blocked you on that.'

'You did.'

'Then what the fuck?! Are you stalking me?'

'I just thought surprising you by showing up on one of your flights home would be romantic. Also, I really, really wanted a vacation, so two birds, one stone.'

I roll my eyes and feel the anger swell up inside of me. 'I'm not a bird to have stones thrown at. I thought I made it clear that I want nothing to do with you.'

'You made it painfully clear when you screamed at me in the middle of Central Park in front of all those people, but you have yet to explain to me why.'

'If it needs explaining then you haven't been paying attention – for years.'

'You're so difficult,' he moans. 'One moment you're infatuated with me and coming around to my house for the most incredible sex of your life, and the next you're throwing tantrums. I'm positive I have whiplash.'

'I'll give you whiplash in a minute if you seriously think you gave me the best sex of my life. I always had to finish myself off you selfish little prick.'

'You were just a meek, timid little boy when I met you. You could barely form a sentence around me. I made you grow up into a man. Be grateful for me.'

I curse the ground he walks on but he has a point. Three years ago, I thought I was so ugly that no man would ever want to touch me. In walks Nick and he infuses me with enough confidence that I was able to come out of my shell.

But god dammit, he's so arrogant. And he's also a cheating scumbag.

'Fair enough, you helped me overcome some of my issues in the past, but I don't owe you anything now. Need I remind you that I'm not the only vulnerable guy you pumped your confidence into?'

Now he's the one who rolls his eyes. 'When will you learn – we were never exclusive. I told you that from the very beginning. I'm willing to forgive the time you screamed at me. I just bought a penthouse. You can stay there and I'll come visit every weekend.'

I gasp. 'I'm not some weekend whore for you to lock up in a room and use whenever you feel like it. I admit, I slept with you for a long... long time because I thought I needed you. I don't need you anymore.'

'Yes you do.'

'Oh my God, you are such a dick.' I say that as if I only just now understand the true meaning of Nick. I've known all along but every time he opens his mouth he digs his own grave just that little bit deeper.

I stand up, pull on my backpack, grab my gingerbread latte and head for the exit. A barista collecting dishes stops me.

'You're not allowed to leave with our mug,' he tells me.

Are all men dicks? Sorry, I don't mean that, he's just doing his job. I smile at him frustratingly as I apologize.

I can't leave – I spent my last scraps of money on this overpriced drink. But I'm not sitting with Nick. I start to walk past his table when he grabs my arm. It's so unexpected that my body shakes. I almost drop the mug, and since I haven't consumed much of it yet, a quarter of it spills over the top and scalds my fingers.

I hiss in pain as I look down at Nick. I throw him a hard stare but it quickly softens when I see he is looking at me with malice. It scares me a little. His grip is tight.

'You're hurting me,' I say just loud enough for him to hear.

His face relaxes and he lets go. I stand next to him for longer than I want to, but his sudden grasp of my arm continues to send shockwaves through my body and I tense up. I can't move my feet. He looks away, his anger fading.

I am finally able to walk when I feel someone brush past me. The small coffee shop is full of people now, which means there are no free tables to sit at. I move awkwardly and take a sip from my coffee, the mug shaking slightly. The fingers I burned are stinging but it isn't so bad, I feel more pain on my arm.

'Do you want to sit down?' A voice next to me asks.

I turn, spilling a little more of my coffee as I do so, to see who is offering. Daxten Lowe. I turn red instantly. He might be my knight in shining armour now but we have history. Short, humiliating history.

But he's offering me a seat and I don't want to finish this drink standing up. 'Are you sure?'

'Yeah, I have a free seat, why not?'

Why not indeed. 'Okay, thank you.'

I place my mug on the table before I sit down opposite him. My backpack slips from my arms and I tuck it underneath my chair. The noise level rises in the coffee shop and it fortunately covers the sound of my rumbling stomach. I'm starving and I have no idea where that gingerbread man went. I think it's lying at the bottom of my coffee cup.

I seriously consider putting my fingers in it to pull it out, but I can't act weird in front of this handsome stranger again. I'll have to let go. R.I.P. Gingerbread Man.

'How are you enjoying your, what was it, a gingerbread latte?' Daxten asks me.

'Have you never tried one before? It's yummy...' oh my God I sound like a child... 'I mean, it's really nice. Sweet. Do you want a taste?'

Wow, did I really just offer a stranger the drink I'm currently drinking? Way too personal. We're not there yet.

He doesn't seem offended. 'I'm good thanks, I don't do fancy drinks.'

'What are you drinking?' I look into his cup. The water looks black and unwelcoming. 'Ink?'

'It's an Americano. It wakes me up. Sometimes it helps me focus.'

'What do you need to focus for?'

'I help run a few departments in my dad's business, including overseas affairs. I'm supposed to get on with some work now but I'm just not in the right mind for it.'

I'm unsure whether I should ask him what is bothering him. We're by no means close or know each other well enough to delve into the other's personal life.

So, I end up not saying anything at all. Instead, I look at him and really take in his image, as if focusing on his appearance will tell me everything I need to know.

First of all, the suit. He's wearing the jacket loosely and the top buttons of his white shirt are unbuttoned so I can see the very top of his chest. His chest is bare, which I'm not surprised at as he has light blonde hair and doesn't sport any facial hair whatsoever. The buttons that are fastened just below look like they're about to burst. Wow, I didn't realise his build before. That's probably because I was too busy looking at his face.

The jacket is tight on the arms too. Big arms. I'm willing to bet this guy works out every single day. I admire someone who can do that. I get my exercise by walking from A to B and that's about it. I'm slim but I'm not muscular like Daxten. He really makes me wish I would work out more. I'm not going to, obviously, but I wish I would.

Have I been staring at his body for too long and has he noticed, because I'm not sure judging by the questioning look he is giving me?

'Really nice suit,' I say to try and save myself. I don't want him to think I'm perving on him. I mean I am, but he doesn't need to know. 'Do you wear your work attire all the time?'

'Not all the time,' he responds. I think it worked. 'I like to wear a tee and some jeans. Way more comfortable.'

'I can't imagine you in a tee and jeans.'

'We only just met.'

'True,' I reply and bury my eyes into my coffee as I take a drink. It's starting to taste a little cold, which surprises me as it was scalding hot a moment ago. 'I mean, you seem very business-like, but you're right, I really don't know you well enough yet.'

'Yet?'

Oh man, this guy is really frosty right now. I like to think it's because he's not a people person but I'm not so sure anymore. Is it me?

'Sorry, that's me making assumptions. We don't have to talk. I can just sit here and drink my coffee. Sorry for disturbing you.'

Daxten jumps up as if his seat has given him an electric shock. 'Oh, I didn't mean it like that. I'm sorry if that sounded harsh. I just don't really talk to people in airports, that's all. It's a bit strange to me.'

Phew, it's not me. 'Yeah it's strange to me too. But you did catch me standing on a toilet seat so I feel like you already know me pretty well.'

I laugh to release the tension, hoping my little joke will make Daxten feel more comfortable too. The corners of his mouth raise slightly. That's progress.

'It is an odd way of meeting someone,' he says, relaxing back into his seat. 'It's cool, though. I guess having some company before boarding my flight will help.'

'You nervous about flying?'

'Oh, no, not at all. It's an eleven-hour flight so that alone makes me want to miss it and just stay here.'

'Oh, same, mine is eleven hours too. Are you going to New York?'

Daxten nods. I can't tell if he's happy or disappointed that I'm on the same flight as him. 'Flight 143.'

'Gate eleven.'

'The very one.'

I'm genuinely happy he's going to be on the same flight. My face looks so goofy right now. I can't control it.

Daxten raises an eyebrow, smiles and looks at his lap. His phone vibrates on the table. I've never seen anyone look at their phone so quickly.

He stares at the screen for a long time, even after it turns black. I'm about to ask if he's alive when he manages to open his mouth. He doesn't look at me as he speaks. 'Are you dreading the time it's going to take to get there?'

'Yeah, but I am actually nervous about flying. I hate it. I had to get a plane to this airport and soon to be getting on another plane. Two planes in one day is two planes too many.'

'I'm sure you'll be fine. You're here now, aren't you?'

He's right, and I'm sure the flight will run smoothly, but it still doesn't stop me from feeling like the absolute worst is going to happen every single time they close the airplane doors behind me. A nagging voice in the back of my head always tells me it's going to happen sooner or later. One day my luck is going to run out.