"Is there a reason you decided to spill your drink all over me," he asks calmly, his eyes forming an even more intense glare as he pats the sticky blotch in his hair.
I open my mouth to reply but no words come out.
"If you wanted to get my attention...
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[34]
Sydney
"Why aren't we going to the airport?" I ask as Tyler takes a turn the opposite direction of the airport sign.
"Because," he grins, "We're going in a private jet."
"A what? Jesus, how rich are you?"
"It is mine now, so, it's better than a normal air flight," he shrugs.
I swallow. I've never been in a jet. Let alone the business class.
"I can't believe it," I murmur, leaning my cheek against the glass.
"What?"
"I can't believe you've convinced me to go overseas with you. My parents think I'm going for a study camp with Sam. I'm such a bad daughter," I groan with a sigh.
He slips his hand into mine, giving it a reassuring squeeze.
"Don't be too upset, sweetheart. Besides, you've wanted to go to Paris, haven't you?"
I sit up, glancing at him, "How do you know that?"
He shrugs, "You've mentioned it. Your blankets have little Eiffel towers on them. You were reading about Paris one day in the library while you were waiting for me. You have a tiny French guidebook. You follow blog posts about France on your Instagram. You-"
"Okay, wow. Have you set up spies on me or something?" a huge smile takes place on my lips. He notices every little detail.
"No. I'm an observant guy, sweetheart. I want to see you happy."
Oh Tyler.
"Is that why we're going to Paris?" I grin excitedly.
"Why else?"
I lean back in the warm leather seat of Tyler's car. As much as I try not to fall for him, he makes it all harder.
Tyler parks at the side of a huge building.
"Where are we?" I murmur, looking out of the window.
"My dad's penthouse. Well, when he was alive."
Tyler's demeanour changes when he mentions his dad, and I reach forward, placing my hand on his.
He gives me a small smile, before climbing out of the car and rushing to my side. I send him a thankful smile before climbing out of the warmth of the car and follow him inside.
The lobby is plain but posh with a black and white finish.
"Mr Ritcher," the secretary behind the black desk gleam almost too excitedly. He sends her a nod.
"The jet is ready," she informs him.
"Thank you, Natasha," he pulls me along with him towards the elevator.
![[34]](https://img.wattpad.com/bd5460ca68341196afd9403c21ecdec494c5a63b/68747470733a2f2f73332e616d617a6f6e6177732e636f6d2f776174747061642d6d656469612d736572766963652f53746f7279496d6167652f2d446d764e502d51494154726f773d3d2d3934373735363635372e313633623738353330383061343731303738383131373438323233372e706e67?s=fit&w=720&h=720)
