“You’d somehow find a way to make them all inappropriate,” she sneers.
“Hey, I can’t help it if one looks like a crooked cock,” I quip. “I’m just reporting what I see.” Meadow pinches the bridge of her nose, trying to mask her chuckle.
Every trace of humor fades away as the runway disappears beneath us in a gray blur. Meadow grips the armrest so tight I think she might crush it between her dainty fingers. Instinctively, I reach across the gap and find her trembling hand. Her skin is clammy from nerves, tense at first, then relaxes under my touch.
My heart skips a beat when she doesn’t pull away. Instead, she threads her fingers through mine and slowly exhales, her breathing steadier than before.
Not only do I see her physically relax, but I feel it in the way her fingers ease around mine. The corner of my mouth curves up in a small smile, knowing she feels safe with me. If my touch calms her, even a little, I’ll keep my hand wrapped around hers until the sky swallows us whole.
We sit in silence for what feels like an eternity, the world outside dissolving into a mix of clouds and light. For every second Meadow’s hand in mine, it feels like we’re the only passengers on this flight. Just me and her.
No office printers, clicking keyboards, or traffic horns. For once, it’s just us and the quiet rhythm of the sky. It sounds cheesy as hell, but I would die happy if this were how it all ended. A quiet moment alone with Meadow, suspended somewhere between earth and space.
I’m quickly reminded that we aren’t the only two people in the universe as the plane levels out and the seatbelt light dings off. Meadow slips her fingers from mine like nothing ever happened.
The loss is immediate.
My palm tingles where her skin still lingers, what’s left of her touch sinking into the lines of my hand. I curl my fingers into a fist to trap it, but it’s useless. The moment’s already gone, pulled apart by reality.
Meadow busies herself with the bag at her feet, her tongue peeking out over her top lip as she searches for something. That tiny flick of pink has my mind going places it shouldn't.
“Okay,” she huffs while rummaging through her things. “Where is it? I know I packed it.”
“What are you looking for?” I ask, hoping she didn’t forget a medication or something important.
“My book,” she rushes out. “Well, my Kindle. My entire library lives on that thing. Can’t fly without it.”
Ah, I should have known.
Meadow always has her e-reader tucked away somewhere close.
“Found it!” she beams, pulling it out and staring at it like it’s Jesus Christ in the flesh. “Crisis averted.”
The screen brightens as she presses a button at the bottom of the device. The cover flickers to life, and before I can look away, I’m staring straight at a half-naked guy—against my will—with abs that look like they’ve never seen a carb in their life. The cover readsMine for the Nightin bold letters across his chest.
I blink once. Twice.
Nope, naked dude with the washboard abs is still there. Staring right the fuck at me. I don’t know who this airbrushed bastard is, but he’s got about ten seconds before I throw her Kindle out the window.
Why am I staring back at him like I’m about to beat his ass or something? Like he’s about to jump through the screen and fight me for Meadow?
Speaking of Meadow, she’s currently fumbling to swipe out of the cover and get to the home screen. Pink fills her cheeks as her fingers work across the screen like a mad scientist, but it’s too late. I’ve seen it all.
Of course, the dude has his hands behind his head, smug as hell, like he knows women everywhere are zooming in for a better look.This cocky fucker.
I shouldn’t care because it’s just a cover for a fictional book, but something about it makes me want to wipe the smirk off the guy's face.
“Guess you’re one of those people who judge a book by its cover, huh?”
She turns to look at me, and I swear I see a bead of sweat drip down her temple.
“What?” she replies nervously, while clutching the Kindle to her chest. Probably trying to hide her library of shirtless men.
I nod toward the e-reader. “That guy looks like a real page-turner.”
She blows out a defeated breath.
“Shut up, Owen,” she groans, giving up the fight. “You know I’m a reader.”
