I stare straight ahead as the plane begins to move, the quiet drone of the engines filling the silence as the safety presentation starts.
My throat closes up as I shut my eyes, remembering the image of Meadow walking away from me on the beach after I told her I loved her.
She didn’t look back then, and she’s definitely not looking for me now.
A dull, terrifying feeling cuts me like a knife.
This could be the end. Not just the end of what we could be, but the end of our friendship.
I can’t imagine my world without Meadow Riley, which is why I’m going to fight like hell to keep her in it.
Hours later,I’m standing just outside the gate at Chicago O’Hare, my eyes locked on the narrow jet bridge as passengers file out one by one.
I haven’t moved a muscle since I deboarded the flight, and I’m not going to until she walks off that plane. I’ll stand here as long as it takes.
The flight dragged on, each minute feeling longer than the last. Ever since I woke up this morning, my body has been coiled tight with anticipation, aching to get to her.
I spent most of the flight looking over my shoulder, needing to lay eyes on her just to make sure she hadn't disappeared—even though it would be impossible for her to go anywhere at thirty thousand feet.
I was literally hanging on the edge of my seat, waiting for any chance to unbuckle my seatbelt and walk back to her. But the turbulence never let up, and the seatbelt sign stayed on the entire flight, trapping me in place while Meadow sat just rows away.
Close enough to see but too far to touch.
Pure fucking torture.
I must have driven the guy next to me insane, bouncing my knee nonstop, and drumming my fingers against my thigh like it might somehow make time move faster. Every time the plane hit a pocket of turbulence, I dug my fingers into my thighs—not from the drop, but from the frustration of being stuck there.
I’ve never been so fucking relieved to get off a plane. Any second now, Meadow will be walking off that jet bridge, and I’m not missing my chance.
Passengers trickle out slowly, taking their sweet ass time, most people already scrolling through their phones instead of getting a move on. My gaze fixes on every woman with long, brunette hair, anyone who remotely resembles her.
Each time I think I see her, my chest lifts… then drops just as fast.
Not her.
Not her.
Where the fuck is she?
Fuck.
She should’ve been off by now.
I shift my weight, craning my neck to get a better view down the bridge.
“Sorry! Excuse me, sorry!”
An elderly woman barrels down through the crowd, her voice loud and hurried as she squeezes past people, not caring who she bumps into.
Damn, I hope I can move like that when I’m her age.
“I’ve got a connecting flight! I’m so sorry, but I’m about to miss it. I’ve gotta hurry!”
The woman is moving so fast that she's damn near knocking people over. It’s hard not to sympathize with her, though; there aren’t many things worse than missing a connecting flight and being stuck at the airport for hours.
Right as she passes me, her foot catches awkwardly on the floor, and she stumbles forward with a sharp gasp.
Oh, shit.
