Page 52 of Drawn Together

Sebastian appeared in the door to the cabin, and after throwing me a glance, he walked to the last seat in the plane, the one farthest from me.

I sighed.

We’d continued with my self-defense training, which often involved close physical contact, but no matter how much I’d tried to encourage other kinds of encounters between us, he’d put up a wall taller than the one onGame of Thronesand kept things strictly professional. We were getting along better and had become more comfortable with each other, which was to be expected after spending twenty-four hours a day together, not counting the three hours he sometimes took to “clear his head”—his words, not mine. But he was still distant with me, and I didn’t like it. I enjoyed teasing him and trying to get under his skin. But Sebastian had infinite patience and an extraordinary talent for ignoring my constant insinuations.

When the pilots and the two flight attendants took their seats and indicated we were about to take off, I unbuckled my seat belt and went to the back of the plane.

I flopped down beside Sebastian, who had his eyes closed, listening to music.

“Go back to your seat, Marfil,” he said calmly without opening his eyes.

I fastened my seat belt. “The view is better back here.”

Sebastian opened his eyes and looked at me like I was an annoyance. “There are eight seats on this plane; do you really want to sit right next to me? Isn’t it enough to have me glued to your side every day?”

His exhausted tone made it sound like he was completely fed up with me. Had I drained all his energy, as my dad often said I did with people?

“I’m scared. I hate takeoff and landing,” I admitted, looking out the window.

I actually felt like an idiot because all I wanted was to be near him, yet he seemed to be sick of me.

I moved to stand, intending to return to my original seat, but he took my arm and tugged me back down.

He removed his headphones and turned to me. “What are you scared of, exactly?”

I looked into his light brown eyes, almost the color of honey when the sun hit them directly, as it was in that moment, the sunset bathing the plane in a blinding orangey light. He was looking at me differently now, more like the way I looked at him admiringly, and I knew the cause. When the sun hit mine directly, the green of my eyes was as clear as the water in a cool stream, and if you looked carefully, you could see three turquoise flecks in my left eye.

Sebastian didn’t say anything, no comment or compliment, and I preferred it that way. Why? Because it was unusual. When everyone constantly flattered you, compliments became the norm and stopped making you feel special. And so far, that’s all he’d given me, at least verbally. No, I wanted him to like me forme, not just the way I looked. I craved a different kind of compliment.

“One time, on a trip to Spain, we flew into a storm that almost took down the plane. I was with my father, my stepmother Elisabeth, and my sister Gabriella, who at the time was three years old. They were sitting in the front seats,” I said, gesturing toward the grouping of four seats facing each other with a table between them. “They wanted Gabriella to sleep, so they gave her two seats and sat me back here. When the turbulence started, the pilot told us to remain seated, keep our seat belts fastened, and asked us not to move around the cabin.

“I was all alone, and the turbulence was shaking the plane so hard I thought it would break in half. I was terrified, screaming and crying for my father to come sit with me. Gabriella wascrying and screaming like crazy, too, and Elisabeth was trying to soothe her while my father shouted at the pilots, ordering them to tell him what the hell was happening. Since no one was paying attention to me, I unbuckled my seat belt. I simply needed to be near my father.

“Right when I stood up, a terrible patch of turbulence jolted the plane so hard that it threw me up in the air, and I ended up hitting my head on the edge of the overhead bin, which had opened with all the shaking.” I turned my face to the window before continuing. “Not only did I get a cut on my forehead”—I instinctively touched the scar along my hairline—“but my father hit me for getting out of my seat.”

Sebastian had been silently listening to my story, but in that moment, something told me to steal a glance his way. He was tense, his right hand balled into a fist and his jaw clenched tight.

“It was just that once; he never hit me again… but it was enough for Elisabeth to file for divorce. They separated two years later, after a brutal custody battle for Gabriella, which my father obviously won.”

The plane began to take off. I stared out the window, nervous… and then I felt him take my hand. I turned to him, and I smiled at the sight of our hands intertwined, his thumb gently caressing mine. Without a word, I squeezed him tightly, his touch giving me all the strength I needed.

I wanted to sleep so the flight would go by more quickly, but an hour and a half later, I was still wide awake. The lights were off and all we could see out the window were the brightly lit cities beneath us. Sebastian had his eyes closed, but I knew he was awake.

“Sebastian…” I said quietly.

“Mmm,” he answered without opening his eyes.

“You don’t happen to have anything that might help me sleep, do you? Some magic pill, like a Valium or something?”

He opened his eyes. “Do I look like someone who self-medicates?”

He did not.

“I’m tired. I want to sleep.”

“Then close your eyes and go to sleep.”

“I can’t… I’ve done everything you’re supposed to do to get sleepy… I even tried counting sheep, but nothing’s working.”