She notices everyone, even the people who are overlooked by society. Meadow would give her last dollar to someone who truly needed it. From the very first day I met her, she’s always been that way.
She comes to a halt when we reach Row 20, seats A and B.Our seats.
Thankfully, our overhead bin is one of the few that’s empty, unlike the others that are crammed with overfilled bags. Meadow huffs, stretching on her toes to slide her carry-on suitcase into the bin.
“I got it,” I cut in. I’ll be damned if I let some random guy play hero when I’m right here.
I push down the handle and hoist it up above my head.
Shit, this thing is heavier than it looks.
Not only does Meadow have this beast of a carry-on, but she also checked another suitcase. One that’s twice the size of this one. She packed like she’s moving states instead of a shortgetaway. I shove the bag into the bin with a grunt, my muscles straining.
When I glance down, Meadow’s looking at my arms like she’s starving and they’re her next meal. Her large, doe eyes send a shock of electricity straight to my groin.
She definitely doesn't realize she’s staring this hard, and I’m not about to stop her.
Let her look. God knows I’ve done the same.
The second she realizes her gaze has lingered too long, she blinks and lifts her eyes to mine, her cheeks flushing a shade of crimson that threatens my self-control. Meadow clears her throat before speaking in a raspy tone.
“Thanks,” she smiles nonchalantly, trying to convince us both that she wasn’t just undressing me in her head.
It takes everything in me not to grin like an idiot.
“Anytime,” I reply, unable to fully hold back my satisfied grin.
Meadow slides into the window seat, and I take the aisle. Good thing this side of the plane only has two seats. If some dude sat between us, I’d probably use turbulence as an excuse toaccidentallyspill a blistering hot coffee right on his crotch.
Meadow blows out a choppy exhale, pulling me from my thoughts. She glances out the window for a beat before turning to face me.
“Guess we lucked out,” she smiles softly, her voice uneasy.
“Yup,” I say, buckling in. “No strangers between us,andwe won’t have to fight anyone for elbow room. Win, win.”
“True,” she agrees, tugging at her seatbelt. “One less thing to stress about.”
My eyes lower to her fingers, which are now tapping against her thighs. Meadow likes control, and up here, she doesn’t have any. She’s not the one flying the plane, and that alone is enough to put her on edge.
The flight attendant’s voice crackles through the speakers, announcing that the cabin door is closed and we’re ready for departure. Seatbelts click, people frantically switch their phones to airplane mode, and the safety presentation starts as half the plane pretends to pay attention while the rest is already falling asleep.
Meadow's knee begins to bounce rapidly as the plane shudders, and we start to move down the runway. She’s trying her hardest to play it cool, but her body language is giving her away. I know the look on her face like I know the back of my hand. The look she gets when she’s anxious but too stubborn to admit it.
I know this about her the way I know everything about her—how she prefers iced coffee over hot, how she can’t stand people who call instead of text, and how she needs seven business days to recover from one social outing.
She clenches her jaw as the engines scream, the sound howling like a storm as we brace for takeoff.
Needing to ease her nerves, I nudge my leg closer until our thighs touch. The heat of her skin seeps through our clothes, steadying her breath while undoing mine.
“Hey,” I say lowly, my lips close to her ear. “You good?”
“Yeah,” she murmurs, eyes still closed. “Just ready for this part to be over.”
“Want me to start naming cloud shapes or something? I know you love that shit.”
One eye opens as a grin cracks across her face.
There’s my favorite smile.
