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"Stop.Please."
I don't know what Wilby does for work, but his voice is giving off total stern school principal vibes. And for the first time since I met him, he's frowning.
I keep my mouth shut.
"Are you okay?" His voice is firm. "Would you like anything? Water?"
I nod.
There's a bottle in the center console. He unscrews the cap and hands it to me. I take a sip, then a few more, my mouth drier than I realized. He takes it from me when I'm done and puts it back.
"I'm sorry. I had no idea you didn't like flying."
"That's putting it mildly."
His frown deepens. "How are you planning on getting to Brisbane?"
"I've taken meds. I have extra on hand, if needed. I travel a lot around the US for work, and if it's a short-haul flight on arealplane, it's…bearable."
That's as far as I can get. I can't bring myself to tell him the real reason why I’m petrified of light planes. I just can't.
Wilby gently places his hand on my knee. "It's okay. You don't have to tell me."
I bow my head. "I'm sorry."
"Don't be." He gives my knee a firm press. "I'll take you to the airport. You ready for me to start driving?"
"I am, yeah."
He takes his hand off my knee, checks over his shoulder, and we turn around, headed for the proper airport where the real flying machines of death await.
"Hang on," I say, my brain snapping back into gear. "Were you going to catch your flight on one of those planes back there?"
"I was."
"Don't you need to call the airline or your pilot to tell them you'll be late for your flight?"
"You're right. I should do that. Ring, ring." He lifts a hand to his ear. "Good afternoon Linfox Airlines, how may I direct your call?Ah, yeah, g'day. It's Wilby here. Can you please tell the pilot with the massive cock and incredible vocal pipes that I'll be taking off a little later than scheduled?"
Wait.Wilby was going to fly himself back home? Holy shit.
"Why's that, you ask? Well, I ran into this…" He side-eyes me. "New Yorker, and I think he's corrupting me… Mhmm… No, no, this isn't a hostage situation. I'm a very willing participant… I see. So what you're saying is you'll waive the rescheduling fees and let me reschedule my departure time if the New Yorker givesme another kiss? Right. I mean, personally I'd prefer a blowie, but if those are the airport's rules."
Wilby pretends to cradle the phone against his shoulder. "Do you agree to those terms, Col? You'd really be helping me out and save me from having to pay a fee."
I shake my head, laughing, which sets Wilby right off, too.
This guy.
I never know what to expect.
"Are you actually a pilot?" I ask once we're back on the main road.
"I know how to fly, but I'm not a professional. It's just one of my many talents."
"What do you do for work, then?"
"I'm a vet. Went touniand everything." His cheeks are still a little red from laughing. "What do you do?"
