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Liam’s eyes spark with something resembling surprise, and his mouth sets.
I shoot him a wide smile, which I hope conveys a metaphorical middle finger I would never actually give—me being the bigger person and all—before I twist my body away from him. I resolve to spend the entire flight steadfastly ignoring him.
If this freaking plane ever takes off.
Three hours.
I need to sit next to him for three hours, and then I never have to see him again.
2
LIAM
“AmeriJet would like to once again apologize for the delay…”
I tune out the latest intercom update and rub my eyes. It’s been three hours since a strange, red-headed woman with a very bright smile to match her very bright sweatshirt showed up on my flight, spilled candy all over me, and then shouted at me.
For no apparent reason, I might add.
Maybe she’s a bit cuckoo. Beautiful, but unhinged.
Or maybe I really don’t understand women.
Either way, it was a very eventful start to a flight that turned out to be very uneventful. In that it never took off.
Because it’s three hours later, and I’m seated in the departure lounge.
In Boston.
I’m growing increasingly irritated by the second, and I lean back in my uncomfortable orange plastic chair. I take a large bite of my sandwich—steak on ciabatta. Smells delicious, but tastes more like wet cement than anything that was once a cow.
That’ll teach me to eat airport food.
Not like I had any other choice.
I chew methodically as I glare around the lounge, my eyes settling for just a second too long on Annoying Annie With the Candy. Annoying Annie who was absolutely horrified when the old lady insinuated we’d be a good Tinder match. And then, she calledmethe rude one!
She’s across the room, sitting in the chairs by the windows and chatting animatedly to the elderly sisters. Beside them, a family plays cards, while two rows behind, a group of teenage boys are playing a game that involves a lot of swatting paper balls out of the air and yelling.
Isnobodyas bothered as I am about this delay?
After the week I’ve had, I’m exhausted. Like, in danger of passing out on this plastic chair level of exhausted. So, to avoid any sort of public sleeping fiasco, I swallow the thick, grisly bite of sandwich, toss the rest in the trash can, and get to my feet.
Coffee will help.
I weave through the crowd and find myself, once again, casting a glance in the direction of Annie and the Golden Girls. I’m surprised to find her looking at me, too. I quickly look away.
Must locate the nearest Dunkin and order the largest coffee they’ve got. STAT.
Five days straight of back-to-back meetings, seminars, and group workshops are pretty much any introvert’s worst nightmare. Add on the fact that I actually had tocareabout making a good impression, and you’re talking battery fully drained. Dead.
Then, there’s Legs.
I slide my phone out of my pocket.
She still hasn’t responded to my last text… and I can’t say I’m surprised.
I should’ve never risked it. Shouldn’t have pushed my flight back to take that 3pm meeting. It was an accident waiting to happen.
