AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I really don’t embarrass that easily. I have no problem giving a speech in class or asking my dad to buy me tampons.
But waking up to realize that not only have I fallen asleep on a cute guy I just met, but I’ve alsodrooledon him, is not something that is going to roll off my back.
“Oh my God.” I sit up straight, using the collar of my shirt to wipe drool off my face. I stare in horror at the wet spot on Maverick’s sleeve. “I amsosorry.”
Looking confused, he follows my gaze. “Oh,” he says when he notices it. “It’s okay. Don’t worry about it.”
Don’t worry about it?I’m trying to figure out whether to apologize again or let it go when I rememberhowI ended up asleep on his shoulder. My claustrophobia set in when the plane left the gate and my theoretical escape route disappeared. I have never liked flying, but I’ve also never panicked like that. I squeeze my eyes shut, remembering how I’d cried and—wow, I want to go live under a rock—how I’d essentially asked Maverick to hold my hand. I glance down in a panic, exhaling hard when I see that both of his hands are curled around his phone. “I’m sorry,” I say again. “This is so embarrassing.” Another horrifying thought occurs to me. “Nobody walked by here and saw me, did they?”
“Not until after you fell asleep, and that was just my friend Callie.”
I press my hand to my forehead, unsure whether I’m relieved or upset by this.
“I told her what happened,” Maverick continues. “I hope that’s okay.” He gestures vaguely between us. “I didn’t know how else to explain… you know.”
I wince.You know.Me holding onto his hand for dear life, falling asleep on him. Drooling all over him. “It’s fine. I’ve met her, actually.”
“She can be a gossip, but she knows where the line is. She won’t tell anybody.”
I hope he’s right. The captain comes on the intercom to tell us that we are beginning our descent. When the announcement is over, Maverick asks, “How do you feel now?”
“Fine,” I say honestly. “I’ll still be a little jittery until we get off, but I won’t flip out on you again.” Suddenly, I realize that I’m still wearing his earbud. “Oh, oops. Here.”
He takes it from me, removes the other from his own ear, and leans over to slip them into his backpack. “So it’s not the flying, it’s the space?”
“Right,” I say. I stretch my arms above my head, trying to regain some feeling. “I’ve never—that was a really extreme reaction for me. I would’ve fought my dad harder about coming here if I knew that would happen.”
“Why did he make you come?”
“He thought it would be a good opportunity to meet people.” I sigh wistfully. “I think he has me confused with an extrovert.”
Maverick nods a couple of times. I decide that his eyes are blue—like the ocean, not the sky. “Do you just live with your dad?”
“Yeah.” Usually, when somebody asks me a question like this, I act evasive or change the subject or just let the conversation peter out. It’s a surprise to my own ears when I hear myself say, “My name is Azalea because that was my mom’s favorite flower.”
I can see the wheels in Maverick’s brain turning. “Is she—”
“She’s not dead,” I interrupt. “Not that I know of. She woke up one day, packed a bag, and left. We don’t know where she is. Her favorite flower—that’s one of the only things I know about her.”
“I’m sorry,” he says quietly.
I shrug, slumping lower in my seat and picking at some chipped paint on my thumbnail. “It doesn’t really bother me. I was two, so I don’t even remember her. Sometimes I wish I had a mom to talk about certain things with—but, at the same time, I’m a lot closer to my dad than most girls I know. So, it evens out.” I stare out the window at the clear blue sky, letting my own words settle over me. I’m not sure what possessed me to talk about her to this boy I just met. Even between my dad and I, she’s not up for discussion. “Your turn,” I say after a beat, looking for a subject change.
“My turn for what?”
“You know that I have crippling claustrophobia and that my mom abandoned me. Tell me something crappy that’s happened to you.”
Maverick laughs, seeming a little surprised by my request. He sits up, rolls his neck a couple times, and then settles back into his seat. His face takes on a somber expression before he answers. “My mom had breast cancer when I was in middle school, but she’s been cancer-free for four years now.”
I blow out a breath. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—”
“No, it’s okay,” he says, sounding like he means it. “It’s all in the past now.”
“I’m glad she’s better.”
His jaw tightens as he nods. I can tell that there are unhappy memories playing out in his mind. “Thanks. Me too.”
He seems to get lost in thought, and I turn toward the window to give him whatever privacy I can in this tight space. The city skyline is in the distance and inching closer; when we’re nearly on top of it, I turn back to Maverick and nudge him. “Look.”
