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Having taken care of that, Greg put his phone down on the counter and stared at his face in the mirror. He rubbed at the stubble on his chin and realized his shaving cream was still in his flight bag. He’d run out in Hawaii and had had to buy some in an airport shop before boarding the flight to Denver.
He hadn’t showered or shaved the previous night because he’d been so tired, he could barely stay awake long enough for his dinner to be delivered, and then he’d curled up on the couch and fallen asleep. At the moment, showering off the accumulated grunge of two flights and the mad dash through the airport was more pressing. He’d take care of the scruff after he was done.
The shower definitely made him feel more human. Hot water cascading over his shoulders and down his back and thighs eased the kinks and tension worn into the muscles from standing for long stretches of time. Greg loved flying, loved the travel, even loved most of the passengers he met, and he adored his coworkers and being part of a team. When there was a crisis—an unruly passenger, a medical emergency, even mechanical issues on a flight—they had each other’s backs in a way Greg had rarely experienced outside of his own family. He also loved the friendships he’d built with some of his fellow attendants like Paul, and his roommates Luis, Darius, and Micah. He might eventually feel that way about Ricky as well, though the jury was still out on that since Ricky wasn’t making it easy for them to get to know him.
Greg knew plenty of twenty year-plus veteran flight attendants and had met a few former attendants on his flights, and they all talked in glowing terms about their experiences. Even the more challenging aspects of the job became fodder for funny stories with the distance of a few years. It made Greg proud of his chosen career, and he wouldn’t trade it for anything. Still, sometimes he was envious of Micah’s ability to stay in one place and build a life with a partner with whom he was stupid-crazy in love. Not that Greg had any idea of when he’d find the same thing or even if he could.
His thoughts strayed to the man in whose room he was staying as he began soaping up a washcloth. A part of Greg’s mind still reeled from how easy it had been to accept Holden’s offer to share his room, even though the man was essentially a stranger to him. There were extenuating circumstances, of course, and Greg wondered if he would have agreed if he hadn’t been so worn-out from the previous day’s stress, but something about Holden had made it easy.
As Greg rinsed off, he realized that even in the club, things with Holden had been that way. Talking to him, dancing with him. It had all been easy and comfortable. Though he recognized Holden was attracted to him, Holden hadn’t pushed for more, seemingly content to let Greg give him an indication that the attraction was mutual. Which was why Greg had said yes when Holden asked to kiss him. It had prompted him to ask if Holden wanted to have dinner the next night so they could get to know each other better. When Holden said he couldn’t, Greg had been disappointed, but Holden asking to exchange numbers had been a good sign.
Curse Greg’s stupid broken phone, though. And when Holden hadn’t gotten back in touch with him, Greg assumed Holden had just been letting him down easy, feeding him a line to avoid having to tell Greg he just wanted a quick fuck and no complications. Seeing him on the flight had confirmed all of that, and Greg had been grateful his phone had saved him from making a fool of himself. Up until Holden came back to the galley to talk to him and seemed genuinely disappointed Greg hadn’t gotten in touch with him. And then, to have Holden come to his rescue when he needed a place to stay…Greg was so tired and grateful he’d been close to breaking down.
Greg shut off the water and reached for a towel. They were the standard, rough, white towels stocked by almost every hotel at which Greg had ever stayed. At least this one was big enough to wrap around his waist. Not that Greg was shy. Living with three other people in a one-bathroom apartment meant that privacy was often lacking, especially if several of them needed to catch early morning flights at the same time. It was possible that someone would be showering while someone else was brushing their teeth or shaving, and everyone else was in various stages of dress and undress. So, he didn’t think anything of walking into the room wearing only the towel to retrieve his shaving cream.
Holden sat on the sofa, laptop open, and focused on its screen as Greg crossed to his flight bag. He was startled by the sharp click as Holden slammed his laptop shut and spun around to stare at the man. Despite his surprise, Greg noticed that Holden had gone pale, and his breathing was shallow, his chest rising and falling in quick pants. Fear. He’d seen it enough times in passengers who white-knuckled the least bit of turbulence.
“Are you okay?” Greg asked.
A quick nod and gesture at his laptop were the only signs Holden had heard him. The man had turned his face away, which Greg found disconcerting. Surely, he wasn’t embarrassed by Greg’s appearance, was he?
When Greg didn’t get any more of an answer, he grabbed what he needed from his suitcase. “I’m going to get dressed and then find some breakfast.”
“I’ve got a…” Holden waved at the computer. “…a work thing.”
Greg nodded as if that explained Holden’s bizarre behavior and headed for the bathroom. Just before he closed the door, he heard Holden say, “Sorry about that. I accidently restarted my computer.” A couple of deep chuckles came from the speakers, but then Greg was enclosed in the bathroom and only heard the murmur of Holden’s voice as he responded to something someone asked him.
“That was weird,” Greg said to his reflection.
He lathered up his face, then shaved as close as he could. Without a chance to stop by his carrier’s lounge between the Honolulu and Denver flights, Greg’s stubble game was going strong. Even though he liked how the dark hairs covering the lower half looked, his preference was to be clean-shaven.
When he stepped back into the room, Holden’s computer was closed, and he was staring out the window, chin resting in his palm. The view wasn’t great—just another gray monolith and an endless cascade of snowflakes—but Holden seemed to be captivated by it since he hadn’t turned as Greg returned his kit to his flight bag.
“I’m going to grab some breakfast,” he said. “Want to join me?”
Holden turned slowly. The color had returned to his face, but his eyes still seemed distant.
“My treat,” Greg said.
“Sure.” Holden slowly stood from the sofa. “As long as it’s not the hotel restaurant.” He shrugged, a seemingly casual move, but Greg saw the tension in his body. “I get a little claustrophobic if I don’t get out of a hotel at least once a day.”
“I get that,” Greg said. “I know a great breakfast place. As long as you don’t mind walking in a little snow.”
“As long as there’s hot coffee, I’ll be fine.”
Holden was close enough for Greg to see the lines of tension on Holden’s face, the way it pulled his mouth into a grim line. It was curious, and Greg didn’t like the way Holden was shutdown, almost robotic in his movements.
“If you’d rather not eat with me, that’s okay,” Greg said.
“It’s not that. I…” Holden swallowed and looked away again. When he glanced back at Greg, he shook his head. “It’s fine. Let’s go.”
They grabbed their jackets and headed for the elevator, but Greg could tell Holden was still uneasy. His hands were jammed into his pockets, and he moved to the back corner of the elevator as soon as the doors opened on their floor. When they stepped out of the elevator into the lobby, Holden’s eyes went wide, and then he patted down his pockets.
“I forgot my wallet upstairs.” He pressed the call button on the elevator, and the cab they’d taken down opened up. “I’ll be right back,” he said as he stepped inside, and the doors closed.
Greg stared at the doors, then turned and headed for the seats in the lobby. Less than twelve hours before, he’d been sitting here in a puddle of anxiety. Then Holden appeared, and the gray clouds lifted. Greg sat in the same chair and glanced around the space, his eyes drawn to the entrance of the hotel restaurant and the man waiting at the hostess stand.
Wasn’t that Holden’s coworker? Greg wasn’t sure. He hadn’t been paying attention to much beyond his cell phone and trying to find a place to sleep for the night, but he had a shadowy recollection of Holden standing next to the same man at the taxi stand. The guy was big and bulky, pretty distinct, so Greg would lay odds it was Holden’s coworker. If that were the case, why hadn’t Holden said hello before darting back to the elevators?
