Page 2 of Lucky 22

The year of Ella.

I giggle to myself because it’s kind of silly. But I haveworked so hard to get where I am as an actress, and I’m ready for the nextstep.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we’re sorry for the delay,” ourcaptain announces. “We are currently waiting on a couple of passengers on theirway from their connections. They’re running to the gate as we speak. Once theyarrive, we’ll be ready for takeoff. Thanks for your patience.”

Great.

Delays are totally normal, but I was psyched when it lookedlike everything would be on time. I’m a nervous flyer—always have been—andsitting here on the ground waiting just gives my anxiety more time to kick up anotch. My flight from Memphis to Dallas was completely uneventful, and I hopedmy good luck would continue on through to LA.

Sighing, I give the empty seat beside me a cursoryglance—another thing I was psyched about. The empty middle seat means I canstretch out a bit and relax. And believe me, if there’s ever been a time for meto relax, this is it.

Because my ex is sitting in the row directly in front of me.

With his new wife.

And their baby.

Luckily, they didn’t see me. I boarded first, and I’ve goton my favorite baseball hat pulled down low to hide my face a bit. But I saw them.I hear them cooing affectionately to their baby, and the whole thing makes mefeel like an awkward voyeur.

So not my day…

With nothing to do and in desperate need of a distraction, Ipull out my journal and decide that a bit of mindless doodling might work. Icould watch a movie or play a game on my phone, but I feel like I need to beactively doing something. With my notebook open in my lap, I draw my favoritenumber.

Twenty-two.

That may seem juvenile to some people, but it’s very calmingto me. The number twenty-two makes me happy and gives me hope whenever I seeit. Call it my lucky number or just a positive sign from the universe, but thenumber seems to randomly find me wherever I go. You see, I was born onSeptember 22 and am turning twenty-two in a few weeks. It will be my goldenbirthday—when the date of your birth coincides with your age. In fourth grade,my teacher explained that concept to me—well, to the entire class—and said thatsomething special would happen on that day. And I’ve basically been waiting forthirteen years to find out if that’s actually true.

It is, I tell myself. It has to be.

Just thinking about it and all the possibilities makes megiddy.

I continue doodling my number, over and over—big and blocky,script, ornate—until someone plunks down loudly in the seat beside me. I givehim a brief look, but his back is to me as he gets himself settled.

I go back to my notebook, silently praying that we take offsoon. I’m in the middle of a rather adorable twenty-two when my new seatmatebumps into me, causing my pen to slide across the page, ruining all my hardwork of the last few minutes.

He mumbles, “Sorry,” but goes back to getting comfortable.He’s fidgeting a bit, and I have to wonder if maybe he’s a nervous flyer likeme. I’m not sure I want to open that dialogue, though. You know, sometimes, youget lucky and sit next to someone awesome, where you can chat the entire flightand feel like you have a new best friend.

Other times…

You get that person who’s totally not into making friends—orbeing polite—and you’re left feeling awkward for even starting a conversation.

Do I really want to take the chance? Between the flightdelay and my ex in front of me, I’m not liking my odds. So, rather than riskdisappointment, I opt to pull my hat down a little farther and settle againstthe cabin wall.

Out of the corner of my eye, I steal another glance at theguy sitting beside me. Dark hoodie. Strong jawline. He’s reading something onhis phone, completely absorbed, his brow occasionally furrowing like he’s nothappy about whatever’s on the screen.

I shift slightly, adjusting my legs and angling my body justenough to get a better view. I don’t know why I’m doing this. Maybe becausewe’ll be sitting next to each other for the next few hours. Or maybe because hebarely acknowledged me when he sat down. He taps the phone with a quiet flick,and I catch a glimpse of his hand—clean, neatly trimmed nails, and a giant goldring on his right ring finger.

My eyes dart back to my drawings before he notices mestaring. Although he seems really engrossed in what he’s reading, so I doubt heeven noticed me.

Within minutes, I’m listening to the flight crew preparingus for takeoff.

Finally.

“At this time, we ask that you please fasten your seatbelts, stow your tray tables, and ensure that your seatbacks are in theirupright positions.”

I glance around and see who’s disregarding the rules. I’malways a little surprised by how many people wait until the flight attendanttells them to do this stuff.

“We’d like to take a few moments to go over the safetyfeatures of this aircraft, even if you fly with us often. Please give us yourattention.”