Chapter 162: I Was Only Ordering Tea

Chapter 162: I Was Only Ordering Tea

I slowly turned toward the sound of that laugh, already knowing exactly who it belonged to. Grayson stood several feet away beside one of the lounge's velvet chairs, looking entirely too pleased with himself. He had one hand tucked casually into the pocket of his coat, his phone resting in the other, and that faint smile on his face that immediately made me suspicious. Not the polite smile he used at meetings. Not the restrained smile he gave people at events. This one was different. This was the smile of a man who had just witnessed something he intended to remember for the rest of his natural life. I stared at him. He stared at me. Then his gaze slowly traveled from my face to the three suitcases, paused on the pink llama, and finally returned to me. "Before you say anything," I warned, "I would like to establish that the door was aggressively positioned." His mouth twitched. "Aggressively positioned?" "Yes." I nodded firmly. "It attacked my suitcase." He looked toward the door. Then back at me. "I see." "Don't say it." "I wasn't going to." "You were absolutely going to." "I was merely wondering whether I should congratulate you on surviving." I narrowed my eyes. "You are enjoying this." "Immensely."
I sighed and looked down at my luggage. "I had a plan." Grayson glanced at the luggage again. "Was the plan to move into the lounge?" I gasped. "These are essentials." "Three suitcases are essentials?" "Yes." "For seven days?" "Scotland has weather." He nodded solemnly. "Of course." "You sound sarcastic." "I'm impressed." "You keep saying that like you're studying a rare species." He smiled. "I've simply never seen anyone prepare for a week-long trip as though they were being permanently relocated." I placed a hand dramatically over my chest. "You have no idea how difficult packing is." "Apparently." "I had to make difficult decisions." "Such as?" I pointed toward the largest suitcase. "That sweater." He looked at me. "The sweater?" "I almost left it behind." His expression remained completely serious. "A devastating decision." "Exactly." He nodded as though we were discussing international diplomacy. "I'm glad you survived it." I couldn't help laughing. "You're impossible." "And yet you are coming to Scotland with me."
That shut me up for a second. Unfortunately, Grayson noticed. His smile softened, but before he could say anything about it, I pointed accusingly at him. "Don't make that face." "What face?" "That face." "You'll have to be more specific." "The one that makes everything sound like it has a second meaning." His eyebrows lifted. "Perhaps you're giving my face too much credit." "Your face is very smug." "That's not what I've been told." "I'm sure people are terrified of offending you." "Most people are." I blinked. "Was that a joke?" "Possibly." "You made a joke." "I make jokes." "You make comments and expect people to laugh." "And yet you seem to manage." I rolled my eyes, but I was smiling. He reached for one of my suitcases, lifting it easily. "Come on." I followed him, pulling the other two behind me. "Where are we going?" "Somewhere you can recover from your battle with the entrance." "I'm fine." "You were negotiating with a luggage tag." "That was private." He glanced over his shoulder. "The entire lounge heard you."
I groaned. "Please tell me you didn't hear everything." "Depends." "On what?" "How embarrassing it was." "Grayson." He finally laughed, and I immediately regretted asking. "You heard me talking to the llama, didn't you?" "I did." "How much?" He considered it. "Enough to learn that you're willing to threaten a stuffed animal's employment status." "It's not stuffed. It's a luggage tag." "My mistake." "And for the record, the llama deserved it." He looked at the tag again. "What exactly did he do?" "He failed to support me during a difficult moment." "By hanging from your suitcase?" "Precisely." Grayson shook his head, clearly trying not to laugh again. "I think you may need sleep." "I think I need coffee." "There's plenty." "And dessert." "Apparently that's more important." I looked at him innocently. "You saw the cheesecake." "I did." "Then you understand." He gave me a long look. "I'm beginning to."
We reached a quieter section of the lounge, and Grayson set my suitcase beside one of the chairs. I dropped into the seat opposite him with an exhausted sigh. "This place is ridiculous." He sat down across from me. "Ridiculous?" "Look around." I gestured toward the lounge. "There are people eating breakfast while staring at airplanes through enormous windows. There are tiny desserts. Actual tiny desserts. The chairs look like they were designed by someone who has never experienced back pain." He smiled. "You're enjoying it." "I'm trying not to." "Why?" "Because I have a feeling if I get too comfortable, someone will come over and politely ask me which private jet I'm taking." He laughed. "You don't need a private jet." "Good, because I brought three suitcases and absolutely no private jet." "I noticed." "I was hoping you wouldn't." "Liela..." He leaned back, looking at me with quiet amusement. "You arrived with three suitcases, a backpack full of emergency snacks, and a pink llama." I sighed. "When you say it like that, it sounds excessive." "It is excessive." "I don't like you anymore." "You said that last week." "And yet you continue to give me reasons."
The laughter had barely faded when a soft chime sounded through the lounge, followed by the familiar tone of an airport announcement. Neither of us paid much attention at first. I was still looking around the lounge, taking in every ridiculous little luxury, while Grayson sat comfortably across from me. Then the announcement continued, and I caught the word Edinburgh. My attention snapped toward the speakers. I slowly turned to Grayson. He had already stopped what he was doing and was listening carefully. "Attention passengers traveling on flight..." The announcement continued, and then came the words that immediately ruined my peaceful little fantasy of having everything go according to plan. "Due to an operational delay, your flight has been delayed by one hour. We apologize for the inconvenience." I blinked. Once. Twice. Then I looked at Grayson. "Did they just say one hour?"
He pulled out his phone almost immediately, and a moment later my own phone buzzed in my hand. I looked down at the notification. There it was in painfully clear letters: FLIGHT DELAYED — 1 HOUR. I stared at the screen before slowly lifting my eyes toward him. "One hour," I repeated. Grayson gave a small nod. "One hour." I leaned back against the chair and let out a dramatic sigh. "We haven't even left New York and we're already being delayed." He glanced toward the enormous windows overlooking the runway. "It's not unusual." "It feels personal." His eyebrow lifted. "Personal?" "Yes." I gestured toward the airport around us. "I finally make it here, drag three suitcases across an airport the size of a small country, survive an emotionally traumatic encounter with a doorway, find the business lounge, and now the plane decides it needs an extra hour to think about its life." A quiet laugh escaped him. "I don't think the plane is thinking about its life." "You don't know that." I folded my arms. "Maybe it needs a moment."
I looked back at my phone, hoping the notification might suddenly disappear if I stared at it hard enough. It didn't. "So what happens now?" I asked. "We wait." Grayson answered it so calmly that I stared at him. "That's it?" "That's it." "For an hour?" "For an hour." I groaned and dropped my head against the back of the chair. "I knew international travel was going to be complicated, but nobody warned me that the first challenge would be patience." "You could use the extra time to relax." I turned my head toward him. "Relax?" "Yes." "Grayson, I've been planning this trip for a week. I'm already mentally at the gate." He smiled. "Then your mind can wait there while the rest of you stays here." I stared at him for a moment. "That was annoyingly reasonable." "I'm occasionally useful." "Don't get used to me admitting that."
I glanced toward the runway again, watching aircraft move slowly in the distance. An hour suddenly felt both incredibly short and unbelievably long. Before I could decide which, Grayson's phone began vibrating against the armrest. He glanced at the screen, and something in his expression shifted slightly. "I need to take this." He stood, slipping his phone into his hand. "something important?" I asked. "Unfortunately." He gave me a look that suggested he wasn't particularly thrilled about it either. "I'll be a few minutes." I nodded, waving him off. "Go. I'll survive." He paused as though considering whether leaving me alone in the lounge was a questionable decision. "You're sure?" "Grayson, I'm sitting in a chair, not crossing a war zone." A small smile appeared on his face. "I'll be back." Then he walked away, already answering the call as he disappeared out of the lounge.
I watched him go for a moment before turning my attention back toward the enormous windows. The lounge suddenly felt different without him sitting across from me. Quieter, somehow. I leaned back and looked around again, taking in the elegant surroundings I'd been too distracted to properly appreciate earlier. People sat scattered throughout the room, some working, some reading, others simply waiting for their flights. I wondered how many of them were regular business-lounge travelers and how many, like me, were secretly impressed by everything. I was still admiring the ridiculously comfortable chairs when a member of the lounge staff approached me with a polite smile. "Ma'am?" I looked up. "Yes?" "Would you like something to drink? We have coffee, tea, and a selection of other beverages."
I glanced toward the staff member, then toward the beautifully arranged drinks area behind him. "Coffee or tea?" I repeated, as though he'd just presented me with two extremely serious life choices. He smiled. "Either is fine." I hesitated. "How much does it cost?" The staff member blinked. "Excuse me?" "The coffee. Or the tea." I pointed toward the drinks area. "How much?" His expression softened into an amused smile. "Nothing, ma'am." I stared at him. "Nothing?" "It's complimentary." I looked past him toward the lounge as if someone might suddenly jump out and announce that this had all been an elaborate prank. "You're telling me I can just... have it?" "Yes." I slowly looked down at my hands. Then back at him. "Without paying?" "Yes." "And nobody is going to chase me afterward?" He laughed politely. "No."
I sat there for a moment, processing this extraordinary information. Complimentary. The word sounded suspiciously luxurious. In my experience, the word complimentary usually meant someone had handed you a tiny bottle of water after charging you enough money to finance a small nation. I looked at the staff member again. "So if I ask for tea, I don't need to show a membership card or sign anything?" "No." "And coffee is the same?" "Yes." I nodded slowly. "This place is dangerous." He looked slightly confused. "Dangerous?" "For my expectations." He smiled. "Would you like coffee or tea?" I considered both options carefully before glancing toward the direction Grayson had disappeared. "Tea, please." Then I paused. "Actually..." My eyes drifted toward the drinks area again. "Can I have coffee too?" The staff member smiled. "Of course." I smiled back, suddenly realizing that perhaps being delayed for an hour wasn't going to be nearly as terrible as I'd originally thought.
Five minutes later, I stared at my table in complete disbelief. I had asked for tea. Somehow, the universe had interpreted that request as a formal declaration that I was prepared to personally sample the entire business lounge. There were sandwiches arranged neatly on one plate, fresh fruit on another, little savory bites I'd never seen before, several tiny desserts, and enough assorted snacks to make my earlier emergency-snack backpack feel deeply inadequate. My tea sat innocently in the middle of it all, looking like the only reasonable decision I'd made. I slowly looked from one plate to another. "I asked for a drink," I whispered. "How did this happen?" The staff member had apparently taken my question about what was available as a challenge.
I leaned back in my chair and surveyed the table like a general examining an army before battle. There was food everywhere. Not one or two things. Everywhere. If someone had told me five minutes earlier that I was capable of ordering an entire buffet without realizing it, I would have laughed in their face. Yet here I was, surrounded by enough food to feed a small meeting. I looked toward the staff member, who was still standing nearby with a perfectly professional smile. "Is all of this mine?" I asked. "Yes, ma'am." I blinked. "Everything?" He nodded. I looked at the table again. "Are you sure?" "You ordered them." I slowly nodded. "I did, didn't I?" There was something deeply concerning about hearing my own poor decisions confirmed by a professional.
I picked up one of the tiny desserts and examined it carefully. It was so small and perfectly decorated that eating it felt almost disrespectful. "This is adorable," I murmured. The staff member smiled. "Would you like anything else?" I nearly laughed. "Anything else?" I glanced at the table. "Sir, if I order anything else, they're going to need to bring me another table." He laughed quietly before stepping away, leaving me alone with my ridiculous feast. I looked around the lounge to make sure nobody was watching. A few people were. One man glanced at my table, then at me, with the unmistakable expression of someone wondering whether I had just returned from a famine. I gave him a polite smile. He immediately looked away. Excellent. I had become a business-lounge mystery.
I reached for my tea and took a careful sip before looking at the food again. This was absurd. I had spent the last week worrying about how I would survive my first international trip, whether I would get lost at the airport, whether my luggage would disappear, whether Elliot would discover my secret, and whether I would embarrass myself in front of Grayson. Somehow, the first real crisis of my journey was going to be deciding where to begin with a table full of free food. I picked up a sandwich. "Okay," I whispered to myself. "One thing at a time." I took a bite, nodded thoughtfully, and immediately reached for another plate. "Actually, maybe two things at a time."