Page 6 of Merry Pucking Christmas
I realize I sort of like his bossy side, or either I’m willing to do anything the man ever asks of me. It’s absurd. I’ve had this crush on him forever, and now that we’re in this close space, I can’t think of anything to say to him. “Thanks,” I say, lamely. I plop down into the seat, pulling my phone out of my pocket.
Me: About to take off. See you soon.
Annabelle: Can’t wait!!!
My best friend, Annabelle. She’s still living in Colorado, on the same block as my parents. She’s married with a few kids, but every time I’m in town I make it a point to catch up with her.
Annabelle: Saw online that you're flying with York. Are you all dating?
Me: No, stupid press. I wish they’d leave celebrities alone.
Annabelle: Either way, must be a nice flight. You get to sit by him the whole time.
I chew nervously on my bottom lip, wondering if I should tell her that we’re sitting together or not. I decide not to add fuel to the fire.
Me: We didn’t book our flights together. He’s in first class.
Annabelle: Maybe you should head to the bathroom mid flight and fall into his lap.
I shake my head, staring at my phone like Annabelle is crazy, because she is.
Me: That’s a horrible idea.
“I always hate these things,” York says, snatching my attention away from the phone in my hand.
“What things?” I push my phone back into my purse.
“Planes.” York’s eyes glance nervously around. “I’ve always been a bit scared of them.”
“But you fly all the time.” I’m gobsmacked that a man who pretty much lives on planes could be scared.
He shifts closer, his shoulder touching mine. “It’s the takeoff. Like I feel like we’re just going to fall out of the sky.”
“Really?” Our eyes lock. “I would think if anything you’d be terrified of the landing because technically that’s where most things can go wrong.”
York appears mortified, and I realize what I’ve just said. I place my hand on his arm. “Not that anything is going to happen here.”
He glances down at my hand resting along his arm and visibly swallows. “Thanks.”
The flight attendant comes over the speaker announcing for everyone to basically buckle up and get ready. Sure, she doesn’t say it quite in those words, but that’s the gist of it all. York’s gone white, and I rub along his arm.
“What usually helps you during takeoff?” I ask him, wanting to ease his anxiety just a bit.
“Usually I’m drunk, but I didn’t want to show up at your parent’s house shitfaced.”
“I get it. Well, I’ll try to distract you.” I smile.
The loud engines gear up as we taxi down the runway. We’re nowhere near the main runway yet, but York tenses anyway.
“We’re still okay,” I tell him. “Look at me. Let’s focus on your breathing.” I breathe in deep through my nose, and out my mouth, mimicking the way I’ve seen on TV when someone is freaking out. “That’s it,” I say for encouragement as York follows my lead.
“You’re really good at this.”
I beam. “Thanks. Keep breathing.” I place my hand over his. “You’re doing great. Just keep looking at me.” Having all his attention on me is sort of freaking me out, and I’m glad we’re breathing together.
“Thank you, Noelle.” His eyes bore into mine, and I keep breathing.
We inch closer as the plane pummels down the runway, lifting off. As soon as the plane lifts off the ground, York’s lips capture mine. We’re kissing and my head spins with anticipation of what’s to come.