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⌞M I N D E L Y N⌝
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⌞♥⌝     "I can't believe I'm doing this."

Disbelief kept my eyes widened as my heart pounded hard against my poor ribcage. The thumping was so damn loud that it felt like the organ could rip through my chest at any second. With palms sweatier than a runner who just finished a marathon, my water bottle slipped whenever I tried to grab it. I also kept visiting the bathroom every thirty minutes because my nerves were so out of whack that it felt like my bladder had been swapped with that of some pregnant lady. Heck, my anxiety was so alarmingly high that I couldn't even focus on the movie playing on the small monitor in front of me.

The main lights had been off, except for some neon blue side lights, for a few hours now, so I had grown accustomed to the darkness around me. A few air hostesses in neat navy uniforms passed by, checking on the passengers every ten minutes or so. I took a deep breath and tried to count to five in an attempt to calm my internal turbulence. We'd been in the air for seven hours now. After a quick check of the flight's map, I discovered we were only halfway there.

Shit. We have seven hours left. Oh, my God. This is actually happening! This is not a drill. I'm really on a first-class flight to South Africa! Holy fucken shit! No, breathe, Mindelyn!

How could I breathe when I was seven hours from four possible outcomes: (1) possibly being drugged, kidnapped, and forced into sex trafficking; (2) being murdered and dumped in some ditch; (3) being catfished by some creep; or (4) having my guts fucked out by a possible Greek God. However, one thing was for sure: I was losing my damn mind.

Consternation had forced me to read so many horror stories about South Africa and its questionable rape culture that I couldn't think of anything good coming out of this. I didn't mean to generalize the nation, but the statistics were terrifyingly high, and, as a mathematician at heart, I was always one to pay attention to numbers.

The words shot out of me like diarrhea, "Shit. I'm going to die."

"Stop overthinking things! You'll only make yourself anxious."

Jittery as hell, I turned to face a relaxed Blake. He was as cool as a cucumber with his black neck pillow wrapped snuggly around his giraffe-long neck. He stretched out his hand to grab my trembling one sitting on my lap. His warmth spread up my arms, and my nerves simmered down; he always had that effect on me, and I appreciated him for it.

"You can't sleep, huh?" asked my best friend with genuine concern.

I nodded. "Yeah, sorry. Did I wake you up?"

He shook his head. "No, not really, but what's up? What's keeping you up?"

I bit down on my bottom lip hard enough to hurt but not to bleed and then confessed, "Honestly, I didn't think I'd make it this far. Like, seriously, what the hell did you say when you hijacked my account?"

Anger slipped through my question. I was annoyed by him taking over my account and booking me a date. It defeated my whole plan of making sure this one-night stand thing failed.

"Oh, you know, just the basics of flirting 101," he said before using his free hand to sip his sixth gin and tonic.

Rhy had a high alcohol tolerance, and even though I had known him for most of my life, it almost always amazed me how he could drink like a fish but still have a sound mind. I was the complete opposite. After three of those, I'd be singing like a sailor and probably flashing my assets to everyone who dared to pass by me. And if you're wondering why I used that example, I have a dark past when it comes to going to bars, and that's why I'm the president of the Home-drinker Association.

I suppressed my nightmarish flashback of the bar-hopping incident that got me blacklisted in half the bars in the city and asked him, "So, why are you up?"

"I think this is the best time for us to get down to business!"

Huh? What the fuck is he on about?

My brows furrowed. "Business?"

"Yeah, your game plan, Lyn!" said Rhy as he took another sip of his alcoholic beverage. "Remember, you want this man wrapped around your finger when you're done with him! We want a guaranteed piggy bank for you after all this, so your first impression matters."

"Woah there, we didn't agree to that." I lifted my hands to my chest and reminded him, "I'm just here for a one-night stand. Remember the 'fuck, then duck' challenge?"

"Don't you want a sugar daddy to serve your every need?"

"Uh, no. Unlike some people, I'm comfortable with being just above the poverty line."

He heaved a huge sigh and then complained, "Why do you always aim for normalcy? You're worth more than this basic life."

"I don't know, Rhy." My eyes took a stroll to the back of my head and back, and then I slipped my hand out of his soft grip. "Why do you always strive for an overtly luxurious life filled with shopping sprees to Paris or race car driving in Germany?"

"Oh, that's easy. It's fun," he shamelessly replied. "And you're a few hours from securing that yourself."

He was unbelievable. "Wow."

"What?" His voice went a few notes higher in excitement. "What is it?"

"You're the worst," I scoffed before focusing on the endless midnight-blue ocean behind the small glass window next to my seat. A clear, starry night hung above us, illuminating white streaks on the crashing waves below. The overwhelming darkness with the contrasting streams of light was a stupendous sight.

"Mindelyn, listen," he started, tapping my thigh to get my full attention and breaking my focus from the window to return to him.

I sighed. "What is it now, Blake?"

"Don't you want to travel wherever you want? Hey, you've always wanted to go to East Asia! Imagine going to Japan for the anime conventions and South Korea for that boy group you wet yourself over."

My face burned beet red. "Hey, don't say that out loud, and I don't get wet over them. What the hell!"

Rhy laughed and then announced, "Woman, I caught you touching yourself to one of their tracks. Who are you kidding?"

It felt like my heart stopped when I asked, "Wait, how did you know that?"

"You were showering, and I just happened to pass by the bathroom, haha. You have some fantastic moans, by the way. A solid nine of ten." His teasing was going to leave me deceased.

Embarrassment fried my brain more as each word left his big mouth. "Blake Everett Rhyson! If you don't zip it, I'm going to slap you. Shut the fuck up!"

That only made him laugh harder. I lifted my fist to his face, and he silenced himself. I may have been a foot shorter than him, but I could throw a mean punch if I needed to.

He cleared his throat. "Okay, back to the plan." His whole body turned to face me with a serious expression as he resumed his nonsense, "Remember you're aloof, mysterious, and — most importantly — enticingly sexy."

It was like I could smell shit as my nose scrunched in. "What cheap romance column did you hear that crap from? Men's Health magazine or some porn site?"

"Oh, babe, I don't need resources like that. I know what I'm talking about when it comes to these rich bastards and sex. Monique's husband fell for a young woman, like yourself, with similar characteristics. Trust me, these men and their fantasies are painfully obvious, it hurts. Monique and her ancient, flat ass had no chance from the get-go after she passed her prime days."

My eyes grew wide from his la. "Blake!"

"What?"

"That's rude," I explained to him.

He lifted a finger and pointed at me with a stern, "Sure, but it's true. I'm sorry, love, but many of us dudes are honest assholes."

I shook my head and wondered what planet his species came from. "Wow, you're a despicable dick."

He ignored my comment and picked up our conversation from where we left off: "Anyway, it's distance, mystery, and sexiness that lure these men in. That's the basic persona you should have when you first meet, and it shouldn't hurt since you've already got two of those traits down."

I was dumbfounded. "Uh? I'm sorry, but what two are you hallucinating about? I'm nothing you've described."

"Lyn, please, you're one of the most stand-offish and deliciously voluptuous people I know."

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. "Deliciously? Did you take some psychedelics before this trip? Seriously, do you hear yourself? I'm none of those."

"Babe, yes. You are. I've known you forever. So I know what I'm talking about."

"No, babe, you don't," I stressed. "If it weren't for you, awkwardness would be my best friend, with weirdness and borderline obesity."

Annoyance washed over Blake's features as he said, "How many times have I told you to stop saying you're fat? You have visible abs! And you're, at most, chubby or fluffy. Plus, men love some ass to grab, so be grateful you're not some flat pancake."

The ladies seated behind us burst into an uncontrollable chuckle. My cheeks flushed ruby-red. Suddenly, I wished I had an eject button to launch me off the plane.

I facepalmed myself before grabbing him by his ear and pulling his body closer to mine. "You're so damn loud, moron! Could you keep it down? I don't want the whole freaking cabin to know about my insecurities and my nonexistent sex life."

He let out a sigh. "Fine, but promise me when we get there that you'll give it a shot and won't flee through the bathroom window from him as you did on the last date I set you up on."

"Hey, that guy was boring as hell and couldn't hold a conversation. I was talking to a wall," I explained as I released his ear.

"It's not that. It's the fact that you got stuck in the window. We had to call the fire department to get you out," he deadpanned. "All I'm trying to say is don't do anything to embarrass yourself. Yes, I came as your wingman, but I also tagged along to save you from tanking your reputation even further."

"Okay, but can we have a code if I need an escape route? It'll make me feel better," I begged. It was a whole country that neither of us had ever been so we couldn't take any chances.

"Sure. Just call me and say, 'Hey, big brother,' and I'll be quick to pull you out, okay?"

"Yes, thank you."

He grabbed my hand and laid a small peck on the back of it. I squeezed his hand as he said, "I won't let him hurt you, promise. Don't fret over anything. I've made preparations for your security there."

I leaned past the armrest and engulfed him in a tight hug. "Thank you, Rhy. I really appreciate you."

"I know." He smiled before remembering, "Oh, before I forget, his friend is picking us up at the airport, so we just have to look for a sign with our names on it when we arrive. So, get some shut-eye. You need your beauty sleep, and we can't have you dealing with eye bags on your date."

"Okay. Got it." I nodded. He was such a contemptible man at times, but I knew deep down he had a heart. From the day we met, I knew I'd always love him, no matter what happened.

Pressing the help button, a beautiful olive-skinned air hostess with bright crimson lipstick came to our assistance. Blake requested warm blankets for both of us. After we received them, he sat back up on his seat and then pushed the recline button until it lay flat like a small bed. I did the same thing, and I didn't know if it was pure magic or Blake's pep talk, but for the first time on the flight, I managed to close my eyes and enter a deep and dreamless slumber. The next time they would flutter open was during our descent to Johannesburg, commonly known as the City of Gold.

⫘⫘⫘

A loud ping awakened me from my slumber, and my eyes squinted at the pinkish-orange seeping through my window onto my face. A sunrise had broken through dawn's darkness and blinded me. Blake opened his mouth and let out a big yawn.

"What's the loud ping for?" I asked. After pointing to the illuminated seatbelt sign, he returned his seat to its original position. He suggested I do the same, and so I did. This may sound embarrassing, but I had only flown three times, and this was when I was still an infant; my mother and I still had a decent relationship and genuinely enjoyed each other's company. So, I didn't have complete confidence in what I was doing and incessantly looked at Blake for guidance.

As we were folding our tray tables, we heard another ping. I followed the sound to a small speaker above my head.

"Goeiemôre. Good morning," the pilot announced with a friendly but professional tone. "We of Delta Airlines welcome you to Johannesburg. We hope you've enjoyed our flight and have a pleasant stay in South Africa. And that you fly with us again soon."

My anxiety slowly crept to its peak. However, it quickly ceased when Rhy held my hand and mouthed, "You'll be okay."

I wanted to believe him. I really did. However, something deep down in my gut said that wasn't the case.

⫘⫘⫘

Immigration was surprisingly fast for both of us, spending less than five minutes at the desks. We had already collected our luggage when we made our way down the various halls until we reached two massive sliding doors. I froze at the overhead, glowing green 'EXIT' signage.

This is it. I gulped. Behind this door is my doomed fate.

"Are you going to stare at it forever and block other people, or are you actually going to go through it?" Blake asked, walking to my side.

I gave him my best cute, babyish pout and widened my eyes to look like a doll's, hoping he'd cave and take me home. He blocked my cute attack by staring straight ahead and not daring to look back at me.

Shit.

Before I could come up with another tactic, he grabbed my hand and dragged me to the doors. I pleaded with him wholeheartedly and tried to stop him, but he was much stronger than me and determined to get me beyond that exit sign.

I had managed to escape his grip when the doors slid open to several prying eyes. To make matters worse, the second Rhy let go, I stumbled forward and fell with a loud splat on my face. People gasped in horror as I made an impact with the cold tiled floor.

Too embarrassed to move a muscle, I stayed there for a few seconds. A bunch of hurried footsteps crowded me as I found the energy to peel my face off the ground. I froze when I caught a pair of expensive, shiny black shoes a foot from my face.

"Miss Suberson, are you okay?"

Feeling the heat invade my cheeks, I slowly lifted my head to discover a gorgeous young blonde man in a gray suit extending his arm to me. His clear, fair skin shined like a porcelain doll as he batted his long blonde lashes at me. His golden hair framed his entrancing but worried sea-blue eyes. Let's just say that if Ken were alive, this man would eat the role up and leave no crumbs. His beauty was bewitching, and I was falling under its spell.

My bestie's concerned voice brought me back to reality as he came into view. "Are you hurt, Lyn? I didn't think you'd trip. Well, not like that at the very least."

I reached out to grab the mystery man's hand. However, by then, Rhy had already gone around me, grabbed me by the waist, and hefted me back onto my feet. Self-conscious, I brushed myself off and avoided eye contact with either of them — or anyone else, judging by the reaction of the small crowd around me.

"Are you sure you're well, Miss?" the man asked. His accent was thick, and he enunciated each syllable with a crispness that had me weak at the knees. Thankfully, Blake was still holding my waist.

The man was a human X-ray as he scanned every fragment of my being, looking for any injury or scratch. From my rosy sneakers and black track bottoms to my matching baby pink crop top and the messy bun holding my bushy curls, his eyes examined me to the last cell.

My perturbation skyrocketed as he did so. Not enjoying the attention, I answered the two concerned men, fretting over me, with a timid but audible, "I'm okay. Really, I'm okay."

"Thank goodness." "Thank God."

They both commented simultaneously. Towering over me, both of them sighed with relief.

I saw the sign in the beautiful man's muscular, veiny hand. It was written with my name. It was like someone had sucker punched my stomach when it hit me.

"Wait!" I felt my face redden even more. "Are you Chess's friend?"

A beautiful smile radiated from the young man's pink lips, showcasing his perfect white teeth. "Yes, Miss Suberson."

"Mr. Pretorius?" Blake said, stretching out a hand. The man reached for it and shook it as Rhy spoke: "It's nice to finally meet you. I'm Dr. Rhyson or Blake."

Breaking contact with my friend, he looked at me, and I gasped in shock. The man's amusement showed in his smile as if he was used to my reaction.

"Yes, as your friend, Mr. Rhyson, has said. My name is Johan Pretorius. But you can both call me Johan."

"Johan," I tested his name on my tongue. "It's a lovely name. It's different."

"I would have to argue with you on that one. Mindelyn is very unique around here. So consider yourself the rare gem. A very beautiful one." Johan smirked, taking my luggage.

My cheeks were ablaze at this point. After a few words of small talk between the two men about our hotel arrangements, Johan turned his back on us and started leading us out. We had been following him for a few minutes when Rhy nudged me with a wiggling eyebrow, insinuating something dirty-minded. He was so childish at times.

"No, you pig," I mouthed, and then I kept walking with irritation fueling each stride. There was no way a man like Johan would give me a second glance without convulsing. Seriously, he was the gold pleated sheet cherished for lavish decorating, while I was toilet paper used to wipe people's asses. There was no question that he was way out of my league. Heck, even this Chess guy was.

Yet, here I was. Halfway across the world to potentially have sex with this ridiculously gorgeous and wealthy stud who had equally stunning and rich friends.

The outside greeted us with traffic and several men advertising their taxi services. It was quite the site. Some rushed towards me, asking if I needed a ride, but I just politely shook my head as Johan dismissed them with such class that even Blake was mesmerized.

We walked over to a young man with an all-black uniform. Johan handed over a card to him, and the boy bowed almost instantly before rushing off to the valet parking lot. After waiting a few minutes, a smooth black and navy Mercedes-Benz Maybach pulled up, and my jaw dropped. From my car-fanatic days, I knew that car was nearly two hundred grand without customization. And from the look of it, this one clearly was.

Just being in its vicinity hurt my wallet. I turned my head toward Blake, but he remained unfazed.

Of course, Dr. Gold-digger was fine.

A few other valet attendants rushed to open our doors. Naturally, Johan took his throne in the driver's seat; Blake called shotgun and sat in the front passenger's seat while I slipped into the back seat. Upon entry, all I could think about was how sublime the interior was. His seats were made of ivory Nappa with a finely polished mahogany veneer. Simply put, everything screamed sumptuousness and very high class.

Johan thanked them and then took off. After maneuvering some roads and evading traffic, he asked us how the flight was.

"It was great. Thanks for booking us first class," Rhy replied. "Seriously, those seats saved our backs when we encountered turbulence."

Johan let out a husky laugh that made my heart go wild for a moment. "I'm glad you had a pleasant flight. However, fourteen hours is no joke, and I'm sure you guys must be exhausted."

Rhy yawned and then commented, "Yeah, we're worn out."

"Miss Suberson?" Johan called out my name. "Are you doing okay back there? You're awfully quiet."

"I'm fine. Really. I'm simply jet-lagged from the traveling."

"Oh, that's understandable. I would love to show you around, but I think it'd be best for you to go to your hotel room and rest for a while. You've got plenty of time; you don't need to see my friend Chess until this evening, so you are free to relax in the meantime until late afternoon."

"What's happening in the late afternoon?" I asked with narrowed eyes. The last time I checked, my schedule was free until tonight.

"Your dress fitting," Rhy responded before looking back at me and winking. "Surprise!"

"Consider it a small gift from your friend and me," commented Johan. "He made some great choices for you. I think you'll be quite happy with the selection."

"Furthermore, it's from one of your favorite designers," said Blake with the widest smile on his face.

"No way..." I asked, "Camille Lytton?"

Johan and Blake nodded. I shrieked with joy, almost jumping off my seat.

I caught the guys' amused smirks and maintained my composure right away. I scoffed, "Cool. Whatever." However, on the inside, I was doing jumping jacks.

Johan and I made eye contact in the rearview mirror. His curious, striking blue eyes locked with my terrified milk chocolate ones for a good ten seconds before he returned his gaze to the road ahead of him. I diverted my attention to my trembling hands curled in my lap.

Like a parasitic zombie hungry for my self-worth, my mind went on a rampage to slaughter every bit of confidence I had left.

He probably thinks I'm weird. I messed up. Shit! I shouldn't have reacted when they told me that! Idiot, now he undoubtedly thinks I'm some dirt-poor slag with a subzero net value. Ugh, dammit!

In all seriousness, I needed to calm the hell down. I needed to breathe and think positively for once. This wasn't the time to self-criticize myself into social suicide. People had spent thousands of dollars on me for this experience, and the least I could do was not let it go to waste.

However, that didn't clear the elephant in the room.

To be honest, I didn't know how I would even do this 'one-night stand' thing. If I were this diffident and awkward in my date's friend's presence for a mere twenty minutes, spending a night with an equally attractive man for the entirety of the evening would be an impossible mission.

However, I knew my fate. There was no escaping this now. I needed to fake it to make it or, if all else failed, fake my death.