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CHAPTERONE
Kate
“Give me two vodka sodas and a side of that ass,” I say, dropping my voice to imitate the man in seat 13B. “Andyes, he looks exactly as you’re imagining.”
Coraline covers her crimson lips, displaying the gray rose tattooed on her hand. “Stop! Okay, let me guess—Ray-Bans on the back of his neck, a polo, and a spray tan?”
“Bingo.”
My co-worker turned best friend huffs as she plops herself into the seat across from me, flashing me a dazzling smile as perfect as her naturally blonde hair.
“Our passengers sure are peculiar this mornin’, huh?” Her usually hidden accent slips through.
I never would have pegged her as a country girl from Tennessee. Then again, our first conversation was colored with so manyMamasandDaddysthat, eventually, I started believing her stories about cow tipping and wakesurfing through mudholes.
“You can say that again.”
Most of the time, being a flight attendant is fun and fulfilling. But there are those rare instances—like with 13B—when I’d rather relive my debutante ball than subject myself to another round of ass grabbing.
The plane jostles, sloshing coffee around in the pot behind Coraline’s head.
An elderly woman scoots her way to the bathroom behind me. “Ladies, how are you?” she asks politely before opening the door.
Coraline beams. “We’re doing fine, ma’am. Thank you!”
But it’s me who mutters, “Never better.”
A young couple a few rows away excitedly murmurs about their honeymoon plans and the extravagant beach resort they’re visiting for the week.
I slouch in my chair, annoyed by my jealousy.
“Oh, lighten up, Kate!” Cor says. “So you told your boyfriend to kick rocks. Big deal. Shouldn’t you be happy?”
I would be, if I could get away from him long enough to figure out what our future holds.
The couple carries on about deep sea diving and sea turtle sightings while thoughts of stuffing the current bush I’m rocking into a yellow polka dot bikini before taking a dive with marine life has me crossing and uncrossing my legs.
“He Whose Name We Do Not Speak is not allowed in this space.”
She quirks a lip. “Lord Voldemort?”
I haven’t been to the beach since that one summer my family spent in Gulf Shores, Alabama. My younger brother, Dylan, and I were strung along on a weekend road trip with my parents and another couple, who had a son my age. Mom had been married to Henry for about six years by that point, but I still hadn’t come to terms with my new stepdad or his high-society friends.
That couple’s son quickly became my confidante. A friend I hadn’t known I needed, and eventually, my boyfriend.
The toe of my matte blue shoe bats against hers.
“Thad.And I don’t want to talk about him or the reason I’m currently contemplating a hiatus from reality.”
“Ugh, you’re no fun when you’re grouchy.” She rolls her eyes, moving on to something more interesting—like how she’s banging Captain Thomas.
As much as I’d love to hear more about their sexcapades, I can’t keep my attention from drifting back to the newlyweds. Like a tiny seed, the idea of exploring an island and throwing caution to the wind has planted itself right in the center of my psyche.
Me, Coraline, the beach, and best of all—someplace far, far away.
“What do you say we get out of town?” I ask.
Cor blinks once, mouth still agape from the story I’ve interrupted.
