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“Yes. Is it too late to get a ticket?”
He shakes his head. “You have your things packed already?”
I incline my head to the door. “Yes. I was going to pack it in my car earlier, but I got … busy.” I don’t want to tell him that I was supposed to do it earlier, but took a nap, then started Conrad’s laundry. “I’ll do it when I’m ready to drive to the airport.”
“We can go now. Or do you need to say goodbye to your family?”
I shake my head. That’s a definite no. James even told me not to wake him before I left because he needed his rest.
Michael stands, pulling me by the hand. “Get dressed and get your things together. I’ll be at your neighbor’s house. You can sleep on the flight.”
Nodding, I stifle a yawn and reluctantly pull my hand from his. He backs away from me, pulling the blinds up, then the window. “Lock this behind me.” I do what he says when he lands on the other side, adjusts the screen and I watch him jog away on light feet.
Sighing, I walk over to my closet and take out the clothes I picked out last night. I look them over and realize I really hate them. If I didn’t think James would try to have a search party out for me, thinking I’m ducking out on paying him back for my education, I’d leave my suitcase here and start from scratch for the two weeks I’m gone.
As it is, I don’t have the money for a new wardrobe. So, I pull on the loose-fitting shirt and fitted jeans, feeling like I’m suffocating. Suffocating the real me. I’m not sure how much longer I can live like this.
When I have my hair bag and toiletries packed, I drag my suitcase to the door, stepping out into the dawn. Feeling like I’m leaving my old life behind and starting something new. Something fun. Something with Michael.
Chapter 11
Michael
LookingdownatDamon’shead on my lap, his glasses askew and light snores cropping up, it makes me happy Savage insisted on keeping the private jet, even though we don’t use it often. Damon was afraid initially, saying he hasn’t gotten on a plane since he was a kid. Remembering how his mother died, I told Damon we could drive instead. I wouldn’t mind being in a car with him for almost nine hours.
But Damon kicked up his chin and climbed on board. He said he would have had to swallow his fear anyway if he took the flight the company bought for him. I admire his bravery.
For the first fifteen minutes, Damon’s hands gripped the arm rests and he trembled when we hit turbulence. Reaching across the aisle, I held out my hand and he slapped his into it quickly. I held tight to his sweaty palm, talking to him and letting him know I was there and it would be okay. He kept his eyes on me the whole time, lip trembling, but not letting any tears fall.
When the Fasten Your Seatbelt sign was turned off, I pulled him to me, holding him until he stopped shaking and the sweat on his hands dried. We sat like that for a few minutes until Damon moved his head from my shoulder and smiled at me softly. “Sorry I fell apart like that.” His voice was so gentle, so soft that it made my heart almost crack in half.
I moved to the bench seat that is behind us and beckoned Damon to me. “You want to lay here?” I asked, patting my thigh. “We can talk. It’ll take your mind off things.”
He nodded, laying his head on my thigh. He laughed, and said, “Your muscular thighs make terrible pillows.”
Laughing, I shook my head and started asking him about his work. From there, we talked for about thirty minutes. His answers got longer and longer in coming until finally, he didn’t answer at all, and a small snore left his lips.
Looking down now, I rub a hand over his braid, careful not to ruin the beautiful work of art. Watching his delicate, thin fingers working all that thick hair was oddly mesmerizing. How he was able to tame all his hair with such ease was arousing for some reason I can’t explain. Thinking of those same fingers in my hair, pulling me closer to him while I ravaged his mouth had me studying his hands harder than I would if anyone else was braiding their hair.
I’ve seen Quin braid a few of his locs when he would forget a hair tie and Ineverthought the act was arousing. It’s just Damon.
I glance down at his body and it hits me then just how small he is. A little taller than Abel, but not by much. Where Abel is a little curvy with the bubble butt he likes to keep on display and bring attention to atanytime, Damon is just thin. I’m sure he looks different without clothes on, but with his larger shirt and fitted jeans, I can’t really tell his exact size. It doesn’t matter either way. I like how he looks.
A door in front of the plane opens and the flight attendant makes his way back to us. “It’s almost time for landing. The pilot will have the fasten your seatbelt sign on soon.”
I thank him and he sashays back to the front of the plane. Gently, I shake Damon’s shoulder and he comes awake slowly. When he looks up at me, he grins sleepily and stretches like a cat.
He sits up and slides his glasses up to rub his eyes. “Are we there yet?”
“Almost. Have to get back in our seats for landing. There will be turbulence. Do you want me to hold your hand again?”
“Yes, please.”
I would never deny Damon anything.
Getting him settled in his seat, I buckle his seatbelt, making sure it’s tightened. I get myself belted in just as the sign comes on. Damon’s hand is already out, and I engulf his smaller hand in mine. It’s so dainty.
“Your hands are small,” I comment, squeezing gently. I’m hoping to keep his mind off the descent and whatever turbulence might happen while we land.
