Read Mile High Guy for Free Online

the girlfriend of a really famous guy. A guy like Adam. Wouldn’t it be a dream? For a start, I know if I was with Adam we wouldn’t be sitting here eating garlic mushrooms and chips. No. I’d probably be in The Ivy over in London. Or Browne’s in Dublin. Or anywhere but here.
    Back in the car, Tim asks if I want to stay the night in his place. To be honest that’s the last thing I feel like doing. I tell him I’m too wrecked but agree to meet him again tomorrow. He leans over and gives me a kiss. His breath reeks of garlic. I wonder whether I should just break up with him now and save us both a lot of heartache in the long run. But I’m much too much of a coward to suggest breaking up so I smile, get out of the car and bid him goodnight.
    I’m in my bedroom about two minutes when I have my mobile phone out and I’m punching the digits of Adam’s number. My heart is racing but I don’t care. This is what I want. I’m craving excitement. I’m thinking although I’m a big girl now, I still feel like fourteen. And I’m thinking how much easier it is now that people have mobiles.
    Remember when you’d ring some guy and their mother would answer the phone with a chilly ‘Who is this?’
    God, that was a bit horrible, wasn’t it?
    Thankfully I’m not a teenager anymore.
    ‘Hello?’
    Yikes, that was quick. I was kind of hoping Adam would have the phone switched off so I could just leave a message. Don’t you just hate when people answer their phones?
    ‘Adam?’
    ‘Yep? Who’s this?’
    His voice is deep and sexy. No wonder millions of women turn on the telly each week to hear his voice.
    ‘It’s Katie.’
    I’m not going to tell him where I work. Or how he might know me. No. I’m not going to make it easy for him. For all I know he asks several women out every week. Or every day.
    I wait for him to say something and try to convince myself I’m not at all nervous. The palm of my hand feels clammy.
    ‘Katie, the air hostess,’ he says and I can visualise him smiling. He sounds like he’s smiling anyway and suddenly I’m glad I met him in first class on a plane and not in some nightclub locked out of my head.
    ‘That’s right.’ I’m smiling back but he doesn’t know that of course.
    ‘I wasn’t sure I’d hear from you,’ he says but his voice is warm.
    ‘Why’s that?’
    ‘Oh, I’d say I’m not the first passenger to ask you out.’ He laughs.
    I laugh too.
    He’s not completely wrong of course. I once had a stunningly beautiful Brazilian man leave his phone number on his tray for me. He was going to be in Dublin for one night. But one night with a Brazilian wasn’t exactly what I was looking for so I declined his invitation for dinner. And whatever else he had in mind.
    Then, there was that other time, when four very drunk teenage guys on their way to Gran Canaria, kept asking for more beer. When I made it clear I didn’t want to serve them any more, one of them told me I was by far the most beautiful air hostess on the flight and asked if he could go out with me sometime.
    I was flattered because he was a bit of a cutie, albeit a drunken cutie. But the flattery vanished as soon as I remembered I was the only air hostess on the flight; the other three crew members being male stewards.
    ‘There’s been a few but nobody like you,’ I answer truthfully.
    ‘So, do you want to meet up?’ Adam asks as my heart does a quick somersault.
    I pause as if I’m thinking about it and then speak.
    ‘Sure,’ I try to sound as normal as possible. As if TV stars ask me out all the time. ‘Er . . . when?’
    ‘Tonight?’
    ‘Tonight?’ I look at my watch. It’s a quarter to twelve. Time for bed. He’s a bit cheeky now, isn’t it? Asking me out at such little notice. Does he think I’m desperate?
    ‘I’m about to go to bed,’ I tell him.
    ‘Sounds promising.’
    ‘I can meet you another time,’ I offer, simply ignoring his somewhat suggestive remark. If he thinks I’m the type of