Falling Forbidden (Unfinished)

17 Stuck in Mexico With You

Selena

"Farewell, my dear," I say to my plushie, Mr Chow, before stuffing him in my suitcase. "I won't be able to take you with me on the flight. What would people say? I'm twenty-one. Not two. You were born for a much younger generation." I stare longingly into my buffalo's eyes, clutching my heart. "I'll see you in Mexico."

In all seriousness, I need him to sleep at nights. And I really, really don't do well with travel.

What the hell was I thinking? Why would I offer to get on a six hour flight and stay in a hotel, when I can barely convince myself to go the grocery store—or let's be real, the bathroom.

Whatever. It's the right thing to do.

If I were in Adam's shoes, I'd want my client to care enough about me and go the extra mile. Sure, it puts me at risk of being dumb, naive, being taken advantage of, or killed...but it's a risk I'm okay with taking.

There's not much I can contribute to this world to make a difference. At least I can do this.

"Ready, princess?" Adam—dressed in all black— brushes a slow, mysteriously amused glance over me, as I roll out of the bedroom with my luggage.

"What?" I self-consciously look down at my choice of outfit. It's just baggy sweatpants with a matching hoodie. What's the big deal?

"Nothing." He takes my luggage, causing a jolt of nervousness to flush through me as our fingers touch.

Did he notice? Please, God. I hope not.

I redirect my attention to his bad boy leather jacket, which may I say, outlines the fuck out of his muscular shoulders.

Makes a girl want to swing from one shoulder to another like a wild monkey in a jungle.

Who wears a leather jacket in an airplane?

"Why do you look so cool?" I scowl in disapproval.

"What?" Now he's the self-conscious one staring at his outfit.

"You look like you're auditioning for Vampire Diaries."

"No, I'm not."

"You are." I wave my hand around his face. "Except for this. This is for a horror movie."

He smacks his lips, grumbling as he drags our luggage while I take one last look at my lovely apartment.

See you in three days amigo.

I'm going to Mexico with Adam.

Dude.

Mexico.

My poor dad paid for our room and flight tickets, thinking I'm going with Marc.

I couldn't go through with such a shameless lie, though. I couldn't. So I ended up inviting Marc. He said he might be able to fly out tomorrow. We'll see.

I kind of hope he doesn't.

I feel so awkward with him. Sometimes, I wonder why I'm even going through with this marriage.

Because of my rigid, meaningless principles? Because we made a promise to each other during a devastating time in his life? Because I can't bear the idea of breaking my promise?

Maybe not.

But it's easier to blame it on those.

"Congratulations on your engagement, I hear you're getting married here in three months," the front-desk lady at the seaside mansion greets us with a creepy, non-blinking smile.