Page 5 of The Killer Card

I snort. “Have fun walking to Vermont—”

“Funny. I’ll drive, passenger princess.” He rolls his eyes. “Merci,” he thanks the attendant when she delivers our drinks. I squeeze the lime into my tonic, drinking down half as he watches.

Cristian and I have always had a rather tense relationship. He was already attached to Nelly’s hip when I met them and a complete mama’s boy. While I tried to get Nelly to make the most of our middle and high school years, he was insistent she follow all the rules. He planned all our study sessions and ratted us out for sneaking around. He only stopped when they started dating, but even then he was a controlling shit fuck. He might blame his mommy issues now- which is totally valid, that bitch can suck a dick- but the bad taste he’s left in my mouth will linger forever.

Cristian and I are not friends, not even for Nelly’s sake. And now I’m stuck with him for the next five hours because Elias thinks he’s fucking funny and wants to see us both suffer our mutual loathing. Maybe he thinks we’ll get all the animosity out of our system now and keep his week insult free. Or worse, that this is going to be some kind of enemies to lovers situation that ends with us fucking all week and engaged at their reception.

I. Would. Rather. Die.

Nelly reads too many romance novels. News flash my lovely bitch, I’m going to use this flight to come up with a thousand more colorful ways to insult your beloved ex turned son-in-law- oh that is so going in my speech- and I’m going to save them all for the rehearsal dinner.

Putting my phone in airplane mode, I tuck it into my purse and look around the small cabin.

I’ve only flown first class a handful of times, mostly trips with Dad, and this is definitely the smallest, most humble version I’ve ever experienced. The seats aren’t that much bigger or that much cushier, and if I allow myself use of the armrest I’ll be touching elbows with Cristian the entire flight.

We sit silently, both of us sipping our drinks through the in-flight how-to video and the pilot’s announcement that we’ll be delayed another ten to fifteen minutes while he waits for air traffic to clear our takeoff. I notice the little boy in the jersey trying to get a peek at Cristian’s face as he passes with his mother, but he's watching the runway, giving the boy only a hint of his profile.

Its only when we’ve taxied away from the terminal and are sitting idly on the runway that my seat partner for the day begrudgingly asks, “How’s your new job? Nelly said you’re living to Boston now—"

“We don’t have to do this, Santos.”

“Do what?”

“Talk,” I gesture between us, crossing my legs. At least there’s room for that. “Be cordial. We don’t even have to look at each other—”

“It’s a three-hour flight—”

“And?”

“And you’re the only thing between me and an escape route. So why don’t we at least try to get along?”

For a moment I pretend to consider his proposal. “Hmmm…. No.” I open my second can of tonic. “I’m good.”

Somewhere in the back of the plane a baby squeals and Cristian sucks at his teeth, not at all because of the crotch goblin.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Cristian curses in Spanish under his breath before fully turning to face me. “Look,” he levels me with a glare. “We have a week of putting up with each other to get through. Can we please, for Penelope’s sake, just make it through without threat of murder?”

“No chance, Crissy.” I sip at my drink.

His cheeks flame at the nickname Elias let slip around us only once, but one I have never forgotten. “You’re impossible.”

“You pronounced spectacular wrong.”

“You haven’t changed one bit,” he scoffs, turning back toward the window.

I laugh. “Since when? Christmas? I saw you six months ago—”

“Not long enough.” He watches me order another tonic on my tablet, sipping slowly at his screwdriver.

After several long breaths through my nose- likely inhaling a number of highly contagious diseases- and half my third tonic later, I mutter, “I only started a week ago. Nelly’s wedding kind of cut into the onboarding, but I’m sure to be very busy so its…. Fine.”

Looking over, he pauses his entertainment scrolling. “Just fine?”

“Yes.” I glance his way. Fine sums up basically my entire life these days. An endless march of fine, but I don’t owe him any explanations. “How’s life as a starting forward?”

“Aw, you know what position I play—”

“Only because your dad shouts it at every gathering.”