No. Absolutely not. It would be weird. His brother is marrying her best friend. The last thing Nora needs to do is join the Mile High Club with Theo in some anxiety-induced attempt tofeel something.
He doesn’t look the type anyway.
She’s pretty sure she isn’t, either.
“In-flight drink,” she clarifies, clearing her throat. “I could use something to take the edge off, that’s all. I left all my Xanax at home. Which is also a lie because I’m not allowed within fifty feet of Xanax.”
Okay, she needs to shut up before she starts telling a stranger her whole life story. It’s not her fault that something about him makes her want to talk.
“I’d offer you some of mine, but you know what they say about taking drugs from strangers.”
“That it’s like taking candy from strangers? You shouldn’t?”
“Pretty much.” That hint of a blush trying to creep across his face deepens as he holds her stare for a moment before looking away. “In-flight drink it is.”
Soon enough, they have two very small glasses of liquid relaxation from the flight attendant and a movie queuing up on their dual monitors. She’s halfway into her mini margarita, which earned her an impressed look from Theo, and may have been a strong choice but she’s not regretting it. Not when it’s fuzzing her brain enough that those thoughts of a past life, and how everything she touches turns to ash one way or another, all just fade into the background.
She’s comfortably numb. Not worried about the plane going down. Not worried that Theo might think her an addict with how she ordered another drink before the movie ended.
“There’s a two-drink maximum. It would be a shame not to use it,” she tells him.
He doesn’t talk much, and that’s a plus in her book. He makes these little amused sounds at the movie when something funny happens and nods in agreement when she comments. She’s happy to let herself drift next to a nice man who smells like sugared hand soap and a faint hint of motor oil. An odd combination, but it’s not bad. She quite likes it. Wants to ask him what he does for a living, but holds her tongue. For now.
“Never been to Alaska?” he says suddenly, when the third movie finishes and they begin to descend. “First time?”
“Never. Gwen said once I get there, I may never leave. I’m secretly hoping she might be right. I could use a fresh start. Maybe find what’s missing somewhere out in the wild, you know? Sorry…I overshare.”
“I don’t think that’s oversharing. I hope you find what you’re looking for.”
“Me too.”
She’s about to ask him the same question when a flight attendant picks up the phone attached to a wall and then rushes toward the head of the plane.
“That’s not exactly instilling confidence,” she mutters.
Then the whole aircraft jerks and shifts, sending her drink tumbling off the folding table and onto the patterned carpet.
“Just turbulence,” Theo says calmly, though she’s not sure if he’s trying to convince her or himself.
When it happens again, jolting them back and forth while another flight attendant reassures them over the loudspeaker before scurrying down the aisle, her gut sinks. It doesn’t let up, not for a second, and the puff of black smoke outside their window coming from a wing isn’t doing anything to ease her stress.
The turbulence is relentless, slamming through the cabin like a whirlwind, rattling the overhead bins, sending a drink cart careening sideways before someone throws their body against it to stop it from tipping onto one of those little girls they scared earlier.
Someone screams.
A baby shrieks.
The lights flicker overhead.
She can’t help but lean over Theo to get a better look out the window. Something in her needs to see it because it can’t be real. It’s only her mind playing tricks. No chance the plane is actually on fire, that would be crazy, except itison fire, and when they begin a sharp descent, she tumbles right into Theo’s lap, feeling his arms grab her tight just before the plane straightens out again. He’s the only thing that keeps her from flying headfirst into the seat in front of them.
The noise outside is a deafening, angry howl of wind and something else, metallic and scraping, like the engine is screaming right along with the rest of them.
She scrambles to get back in her seat. She could swear he physically picks her up and shoves her into it out of desperation. His quick hands force her seatbelt to click together when her own tremble too hard to do it herself, and then they’re free-falling, the force of it slamming them backward again.
A violent lurch pulls the cabin sideways. Overhead compartments burst open, and a laptop sails past her shoulder and cracks somewhere behind them. Her stomach drops so hard it feels like she left it miles up in the clouds.
Nora whispers his name in a horrified plea as if he can do something, but he can’t. No one can. All she gets in return is a panicked stare that bores right through her soul and the soft contact of his fingers brushing hers as they clutch the same armrest.
