His vulnerable response chips away another layer of my antagonism.
“Listen, we’re just doing a low-altitude tour of Seafolly,” he reasons, and I can hardly believe he’s the one trying to coaxmeinto a plane. Talk about a role reversal. “These planes practically fly themselves. Your drive over here was riskier than what we’re about to do.” He pauses. “You know I’d never put you in danger.”
I feel my resolve weakening with each one of his rational justifications—and no, his butterscotch syrup eyes have absolutely nothing to do with it.
“Come on.” A mischievous smile climbs his face. “All you have to do is say yes.”
Millie gasps. “He’s quoting Holden!” she melts, pressing her hand to her heart. “Honey, you can’t say no to that.”
I roll my eyes and exhale in a gust. “Fine.”In for a penny, in for a pound, I guess.
His face splits in a smile. “Great. Whoever’s sitting in the back needs to board first.”
“Millie can sit up front,” I offer preemptively, before she can get any bright ideas about forcing me onto his lap.
Ryder helps hoist me aboard, which requires some awkward boosting and scooching on my part, and I take the seat behind Millie’s on the passenger side while he helps her get settled, then climbs in himself. The sight of him in the pilot’s seat is melting my circuits. It doesnotcompute.
“Buckle up, ladies. I’ve got precious cargo.” He shoots Millie a movie star wink, and she giggles.
“I assume we’ll be getting a safety briefing?” I ask as he starts flipping switches on the control panel. “I’d like to know where my parachute is located.”
He ignores my sass. “Put these on,” he says, handing usboth a headset and sliding one on himself. “The engine will be loud, and we’ll be able to speak to each other over the comms.”
It’s beyond surreal, watching him do this. So much so, in fact, that part of me thinks he must be pulling some elaborate prank, that at any moment the powers that be—a team of TSA agents? Harmless Holly?—will rush onto the runway, frantically waving their arms to stop us. Maybe he’s watchedCatch Me If You Canone too many times and convinced himself that he, too, can impersonate a pilot. He is an actor, after all.
I keep my head on a swivel as we taxi to the top of the runway, but alas, no one appears to haul him off in handcuffs. I take a deep breath and say a quick prayer that this won’t turn out to be another scenario in which I’ll come to regret placing my trust in Ryder.
Our takeoff is surprisingly smooth and uneventful—not that I actually witnessed it, since I shut my eyes and am gripping the armrests for dear life.
“Alright ladies, we’ve reached our cruising altitude of two thousand feet,” I hear Ryder’s voice over the headset. “You can open your eyes now, Scarlett,” he says, amusement in his tone.
I squint them open slowly, seeing that we are, in fact, still alive. I crane my neck to look out the window, taking in the shimmering blue ocean below us, along with the various creeks and tributaries connected by hundreds of waterways snaking through the marsh like branching blood vessels. Ryder steers us in a wide arc, giving us a panoramic, bird’s-eye view of the picturesque coastline.
“I’m impressed,” I tell him, meaning it.
Ryder glances back at me, the sun sparkling off the water matching the sparkle in his eyes. “Thanks.”
“Alright, now youmusttell me what it was like to film this scene,” Millie says eagerly. “Was it as romantic as it seemed?”
I cough a laugh. “Uh, sure,” I say, not wanting to burst her bubble.
“Something like that,” Ryder echoes, cutting me a sideways glance.
“I knew it. You two had better chemistry than Bogie and Bacall,” Millie continues dreamily, and this is why it’s best to let fans believe what they want. The story she’s told herself is infinitely more satisfying than reality. “It’s an absolute crime that you two haven’t made another movie together. You think you can make that happen before I die?”
Ryder stays conspicuously silent, pretending to be absorbed in flying the plane, and I’m left to fill the void. “Oh, um. Ah. Well…”I’m so articulate.
Millie twists around to survey me as I stammer, smirks, then turns around again. “Well, that answersthatquestion.”
“What question?”
“The two of you obviously had an on-set affair,” she says matter-of-factly.
I groan. “I see you digging for dirt, Millie. It won’t work.”
“Oh come on, you can own up! Who am I going to tell? I hardly have any friends left, and the rest are going to die soon anyway.”
“Millie.”
