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We’ve held hands. We’ve leaned against each other. We’ve brushed our bodies past each other. But it’s always been him reaching for me, him pulling me in.
I’ve never gone to him.
But I want to.
I slip my arm out from under his jacket and slowly, gently, set my palm against his.
I twist my hand until my outstretched fingers are lined up with Dom’s. His hand is so much larger, his palm bigger than mine on all sides. His fingers are so much longer that when he flexes the top knuckle, his fingertips curl over mine.
They’re strong hands.
They’re warm. And I can feel the rough calluses that run along the base of his fingers. A contrast to my soft hands.
The plane dips with a rattle.
I twist my palm, and when I start to curl my fingers between his, he does the same.
And it’s the best thing I’ve felt in a while.
With nothing else to say, I relax against the backrest and focus on Dominic’s thumb as it rubs small circles on the back of my hand. Turbulence forgotten.
* * *
The seat beltlight chimes off and is followed by the mass clicking of everyone on the plane unbuckling.
Following suit, I undo my belt and scoot forward on my seat until I can reach down and pick up my bag.
Dom has respected my need for quiet between us but breaks that truce when he grabs hold of my backpack strap.
I put up a minor fight, but he uses his free hand to pry my fingers off the strap. “I’ll carry it.”
I smooth my hands over his jacket that’s resting in my lap. “Pretty sure security will have a problem with you walking all the way down to baggage claim.”
Dom angles toward me to give himself space, then slings my bag over his shoulder. “Then I’ll carry it until our paths part.”
The crew opens the main door, and the first row of people starts to exit the plane.
Until our paths part.
When the aisle clears, Dom stands and shifts out of our row. Then he gestures for me to go ahead of him.
I do my best to look graceful as I shuffle out, and he manages to snag his jacket out of my hands so I’m left carrying nothing.
When I turn my back to Dom, standing at my full height, fingers brush against my ponytail, and he chuckles, “Shorty.”
Teasing.
Stick with the teasing so you can keep smiling when your paths part.
I say thank you to the attendants, then take that last step off the plane and onto the Jetway.
It’s evening, and the end-of-September air breezes up through the small gap, cooling my overheated nerves.
The trees will start to change in a few weeks, and I can’t help but picture going on a fall-themed date with Dom. Complete with apple cider and scarves and curling up in front of a fireplace.
I blink.
Stay in the present, Val.
