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“It takes some time to adjust. How’ve the passengers been?”
She smiles at him. I think she’s thankful he’s showing at least some interest.
“Well outside of Andrew here drinking our store of Coke completely dry- it’s been pretty chill.”
Dylan shares a small laugh with her, and I just smile proudly.
“Speaking of which,” she continues. “Would you two care to go to a bar later? I’ve never been to Naples and I’m sure you guys will know a nice place.”
The woman wasn’t wrong but I decided to let Dylan answer given my current state.
He offers her a polite smile and chuckles.
“Andrew seems to have already hydrated, but we’ll see what state he’s in when we land. We’ll let you know then.”
After a few more minutes chatting, another passenger calls for her, and she’s back to work.
I whisper over to him, my words rushed a bit.
“What do you think you’re doing. Second bar date is a lock to get it in.”
“Your folks ever tell you that patience is a virtue?” he asks.
“Did yours ever tell you that no man has gotten laid sitting still with his thumb stuck up his ass?”
He turns red as he stifles his laughter.
“Even taken literally, I can guarantee that’s not even true.”
The next half dozen or so hours go by quicker now with Dylan keeping me company, though most of our time was spent with him laughing at my drunk ass.
We decide to not even speak to her as we deboard the plane, and thankfully we manage to avoid her, completely saving some face. However, as Dylan and I check into our hotel, Hazel strolls up to the counter to check in.
We make small talk but again, Dylan does most of the talking. We all decide that it’s best we take a rain check and retire for the night. A twenty-hour flight was not the best preamble to a good date.
Still, as we go our separate ways, I can’t help but feel sad. I wish I’d have spoken up and recommended we go out, at least for a night cap. Oh well.
