“Or mine.” More passengers answer together.
“I…” she timidly speaks up.
Oh, brother.
“It’s my water bottle.” I reach for the ginormous Hydro Flask. “I must not have screwed the lid on tight enough. Sorry.” I offer a sheepish smile to the passengers around me, but these sleepy people cannot be won over. I’m getting death glares from every row.
“At least your water gotyouwet too.” The woman points at my crotch.
I look down at my suit pants and the perfect circle around my crotch. “It sure did.”
“Karma,” the flight attendant mutters as he starts wiping down the overhead bin with a towel.
Lacee turns to me with wide eyes and mouths, “Thank you.”
The grateful smile on her face makes the death glares all worth it.
* * *
Lacee
Note to self:always make sure the lid of your water bottle is securely fastened before you stow it in an overhead compartment. That piece of information should really be in the safety movie they show before the flight. Or at least in the pamphlets in the front pocket of the chairs that nobody reads unless they’re super bored.
The good news is I have a hard-shell suitcase, so none of my stuff got wet. I can’t say the same for everyone else.
“Can you hold this?” Park hands me my water bottle, adding a smirk. “I’m going to the restroom to see if I can dry my pants off a little bit.”
“I’m really sorry.” I grimace. “I feel awful.”
“It’s fine.” He throws me a cute smile as he walks a few feet down the aisle to the restroom.
It’s not fine. I should try and help him.
The lavatory in front of him opens, and a woman walks out. He waits for her to pass before stepping inside the tiny space and attempts to pull the door shut behind him.
“Park?” I catch the handle before he has a chance to lock it. I push the door open again, peeking my head inside.
His blue eyes glimmer. “Trapping men in small spaces seems to be a common theme with you.”
My expression drops. “No! I swear I was just coming to see if you need any help.”
“How are you going to help?”
“Um…I hadn’t gotten that far.” It’s not like I can dab the wet spot with a paper towel.
His lips twitch as he watches me work through the possibilities.
“You know what?” I take a step back. “Never mind. It looks like you’ve got things under control here.”
We hit a patch of turbulence, and my body flies forward. The bathroom door slams shut behind me as I fall into Park. I’m pressed against his hard chest for the second time today. At least this time he’s wearing a shirt…or not. Maybe shirtless Park was better. He grabs my waist, holding me up. I’m wrapped in a cocoon of arm muscles and fresh manliness.
“That was an accident,” I explain, pushing off him. “I hate turbulence when I’m not wearing my seatbelt.” Another bout of turbulence jostles the plane, sending me flying forward again. I’m determined this time not to crash into Park. So I jolt my hand up, intending to press it against the wall to catch myself, but nothing ever goes as planned. My quick arm motion ends up hitting Park across the jaw. He stumbles into the sink, bringing down the soap dispenser with him.
“That was another accident!” I squeal as Park works to attach the soap dispenser back to the wall.
I step back to gain some space but lose my balance in the next wave of turbulence. My palm hits the flush button, causing the toilet to make a loud vacuum sound as it sucks the water away. I yank my hand from the wall, and I grab onto the only thing I can—his waist. I fall forward, shoving Park down with me. His butt lands on the toilet, and my body lands on top of his.
What in the Jack Frost is even happening right now?
