4. Selena
Selena
Irun to the counter, praying that I’m not too late to check my bag. There’s a line, so I bounce back and forth on my feet, checking my phone every couple of seconds, seeing the time for my plane to take off get closer and closer.
Finally, it’s my turn to step up to the counter.
“I’m running late. Can I still check my bag?” I rush out before the attendant, Ann—according to her name tag—has a chance to speak.
“Can I get your identification, please?” She smiles, and a spray of hope takes hold.
I hand her the items, and she begins tapping on her keyboard.
I really need them to take my bag. If not, then I’m going to have to reschedule my flight and Mom will blow a gasket.
I gnaw on my lower lip, stressing over my poor judgment last night.
I should’ve kept my ass home, packed and been out the door in a timely manner this morning.
“You’re too late to check your bag here.
As they’ve already taken all the bags to load.
” She must see the frantic look on my face because she continues.
“But since you’ve already paid for your checked bag, you can take it to the plane and leave it at the door for them to load it.
” She hands me my boarding pass and smiles hopefully.
“Thank you.” I grab the handle of the bag and take off, moving through the airport as fast as I can. As long as I can make it through the security check without any delays I should make the flight before the doors close.
But when I get to security, there’s another line. It’s moving at a good pace, yet it’s still eating away at my time. I can literally hear the clock going tick tock, tick tock. This has to be an omen for what this weekend is going to be like.
I finally make it to the front and place my items in the bin, including shoes, and walk through the metal detector, praying it doesn’t go off because it’ll only delay me more.
Once I make it through, I still have to wait for the bin to get down the conveyor belt.
But, of course, my luggage gets flagged, and I have to wait for them to check it.
Once it’s cleared and finally makes its way to me, I slide my shoes back on and race through the airport to my gate like I’m heading toward the finish line, with my eyes on the gold medal.
“Wait, wait!” I scream as I see the attendant getting ready to close the gate.
Fuck, after all this I’m still going to miss it.
She hears my screams and looks like she thinks about it for a moment before stopping.
“You’re lucky,” she tells me.
“Thank you, thank you,” I rush out, breathless.
“That’s too big for a carry-on,” she huffs when she notices my bag.
“I know. The attendant at the counter said it can be checked at the door since it’s already paid for.”
She gives me an eye roll, and I want to tell her ‘fuck you,’ but I don’t. My whole sanity this weekend depends on her letting me go through that door, drop my bag and get on the damn plane.
She steps aside and gestures for me to enter. “Have a nice flight.” The sarcasm in her voice drips through.
I rush down the entryway all the way to the door of the plane. The airline attendant is standing there, and oddly, has a smile on her face.
“Made it just in the nick of time.”
I laugh. “They said since I paid for this bag to be checked that I can do it here since I arrived late.” Please, for the love of all that’s good, let it be the truth.
“I got it,” she says, and I hand it over and board the plane, letting out a sigh of relief.
All eyes are on me when I step inside, especially the little old lady at the front who’s glaring like I held the plane up for hours when, in actuality, they were just shutting the door.
I keep my head down, ignoring all the looks as I make my way down the aisle, trying not to hit anyone with my purse.
Finally, I make it to my seat and sit down, thankful that there’s no one sitting directly beside me.
I open the chat with Mom.
Me: First flight is getting ready to take off.
Then for good measure, I click a picture of myself and send it to her as well so she knows I’m telling the truth. I don’t wait for an answer and power off my phone, slipping it into my purse. The airline attendant goes through her pre-flight spiel, and the next thing I know, we’re in the air.
The first flight is an hour, so I want to take a power nap and try my damndest to sleep off this hangover.
It takes me no time to fall asleep, and it’s full of dreams of the man from last night. Someone’s shaking me, and I startle, my eyes popping open. My heart’s racing and it takes a minute for me to gather my thoughts and realize where I am.
“Sorry,” she says. “We need you to make sure you have your seat belt on and all items stowed away, we’ll be landing shortly.”
I nod, lifting my hand to wipe away the drool from my mouth. I feel like everyone’s eyes are on me—even though they aren’t—and I pray I didn’t make any sounds that would give away what I was dreaming about.
I’m pretty much near the back of the plane, so once we land, I opt to stay seated versus fight to get off. Once the majority of the plane has disembarked, I stand and make my way down the aisle.
I head toward my next terminal but not before stopping by the restroom.
Running to the next terminal, my bladder feels like it’s about to explode and I can’t hold it any longer.
Once I’m done, I check my watch and make my next debate of the morning.
Coffee! I didn’t have any this morning on my mad dash out of the house, but I desperately need it.
My mother’s life and my sanity depends on it.
Dodging the other people, I keep moving forward toward my next gate, praying that there is a coffee spot in my path.
Thankfully, the fates are on my side and I see one just up ahead.
There is a line, but sometimes you have to make tough calls, and this is one of them.
I glance at the time on my phone and decide I’ll be okay, so I step behind the couple at the end of the line.
While I’m standing there, I take the time to message Mom. Don’t want her bitching that I didn’t do it. I power on my phone, and it vibrates like crazy as messages pop up. All from her except for the one from Sam.
Sam: Have a good trip and don’t let that woman fuck with your head. I love you bestie.
Sam: Also Jose says to have a drink, eat what you want and tell her to go fuck herself. LOL See you when you get home. Love you Babe.
God I lucked out in the best friend department. His boyfriend isn’t so bad either. I send him a reply quickly.
Me: I made it. Waiting for the second flight. I have so much to tell you. I'll message you later today and spill all the tea.
Then I click over to my mother’s message thread.
I have no desire to read the ranting messages she sent, so I let those go unread and shoot off a message telling her I’ve made it to the next plane and I’m waiting to board.
Then I turn my phone back off and slip it into my purse, finally stepping up to the counter.
Once I have my coffee in hand, and take the first sip of the hot, caramelly liquid, I let out a sigh of contentment.
But when I check my watch, that moment of tranquility dissipates.
Fuck! I’m going to miss this plane if I don’t book it.
I rush down the corridor like a fucking mad woman, being careful not to spill any of the hot liquid on the floor or me.
It was fifteen fucking dollars, so I sure as hell don’t want to waste a drop.
My gate is just up ahead and I see the line slowly dwindling down.
They’re boarding. How fucking long was I at that damn coffee shop?
I pick up my pace, holding the cup as far away from my body as I can. My legs are pumping as fast as they can go, and I’m out of breath by the time I come skidding to a stop at the desk.
“Ticket please,” the older woman behind the counter says as I hold my boarding pass over the scanner.
Devil or God is on my side today. The gate wasn’t closing in my face, but I was the last person in line to board. Again. If I had missed my connecting flight, I don’t know what I would have done. Mom would’ve really killed me, especially after telling her I was waiting to board it.
Making my way down the aisle, I look for my assigned seat.
When I finally spot it, I stop dead in my tracks, staring at the guy occupying the seat next to mine who’s hot as sin.
He’s got dark brown hair, so dark it’s almost black, just enough facial hair with his mustache and neatly trimmed beard to give him that hot as fuck appeal.
Tattoos wrap around his exposed forearm, disappearing underneath his shirt sleeve.
He stands up, giving me space to make it to my seat and stares as I sit down, then reclaims his spot.
But I can’t make out what he’s thinking.
I must look a fucking mess, not to mention sweaty from the mad dash to the gate.
I can feel his eyes burning holes through my flesh.
I take a sip of my coffee which only adds to the heat.
“Fuck, you’re gorgeous!” he exclaims, and I turn to face him, catching him drag his lower lip into his mouth.
“Excuse me?” I don't know what else to say. His words caught me so off guard. Not the typical thing you expect to hear on a plane.
“You’re stunning. And I get to sit beside the most beautiful woman on the plane.”
His words cause the blood to rush to my cheeks as I giggle. Ahh shit! Did I just giggle like a schoolgirl? Where in the hell did that come from? I turn away not wanting him to see my reaction.
A brazen side takes hold of me. No way am I going to let him know his words affected me. I plaster on my best smirk before turning toward him again.
“Are you talking to me?”
“I am. There’s not another woman as beautiful as you around.”
“Does that line really work with women? I’m… Nevermind, don’t answer. I’m sure there are far prettier women than me on the plane who would cream their panties for lines like that. It’s just not me though,” I reply flippantly, an awkward laugh slipping out as I buckle my seat belt.
He opens his mouth to come back with what I know will be some witty comment, but he’s cut short when the airline attendant begins her safety speech, and I give her my undivided attention.
It’s best to be prepared in case the plane goes barreling to the ground or breaks in half.
It’s not like I haven’t heard it before, but I make out like it’s the first time.
The plane bounces as we ascend, making my stomach churn.
I drank way too fucking much last night.
I keep stealing glances at him out of the corner of my eye.
The scent of his cedarwood cologne engulfs me.
He smells delicious. The intoxicating smell mixed with his flirting has such an effect on me that I have to press my thighs together to ease the ache building in my core.
All I want to do is climb onto his lap, straddle him and ride his cock until we both see stars.
What the fuck is wrong with me? Settle down, Selena, and get your hormones in check. When did I turn into this sexual deviant? The one night stand last night and now this.
I’ve never been a prude when it comes to sex, but I am more on the reserved side. But from the quick fuck last night, to the racing dirty thoughts of the man sitting next to me, you’d think I was a common street corner prostitute. Slut party of one here I come.
His arm brushes against mine, and I startle. I shoot daggers at him as he winks at me.
“Seeing how we’re buddies until the plane gets to the next stop, I thought I’d introduce myself. I’m Eli, twenty-nine, single, no kids, good job. And what about you, Princess?” He holds out his hand for me to shake, but I don’t.
Eli! Even his fucking name is sexy.
Wanting to have a bit of fun, I decide to fuck with him a little and knock his overconfident ass down a notch or two.
“I’m Veronica, thirty-eight. I look good for my age. Thanks to plastic surgery, Botox and lots of makeup. I have six kids with six different fathers. I live off men because I hate to work and I’m currently looking for husband number four. Do you want to apply?” I lean closer to him and bat my eyes.
He looks shocked for a moment before howling with laughter, scaring the people around us. I can feel everyone’s eyes on us for a second before the plane begins to taxi down the runway, getting ready to take off.
“Three husbands. And six kids with six different fathers. Math isn’t mathing, Princess.”
“Never said I was married to their fathers, now did I?” I bounce back to him.
He shakes his head, holding back his smile. But I can see the wheels turning in his mind as he thinks about what I said.
“You almost had me. I love a girl with a sense of humor. The marriage part I’m not sure about, since we’ve only just met.
But I’d certainly fill out the boyfriend application.
You seem like a girl that’ll keep me on my toes.
Want to give me the real details now?” He gives me a flirty wink.
You know, the one all the cheeky bastards use that has girls dropping their panties in seconds.
“Wow, you’re deranged, aren’t ya? All that and you still want to apply, or are you just looking to get your dick wet? A little hit it and quit it? Wrap it up and keep trucking.” An evil smirk takes over my face.
“Oh, you wound me!” He places his hand over his chest and mocks a pained look.
“Do all the ladies fall for these lines of yours? Because for you to be using them, either they work, or you’re a glutton for punishment. Do they drop their panties, spreading their legs wide for you to slop in?” I chuckle, but damn if I don’t secretly want to fall for every single one.
“What if I said yes?” His statement has my mind falling deeper into the gutter.
“Cocky, aren’t we?”
I’m feeling like a floozy, as my mother would call it, having slept with a man last night whom I just met in a bar. And now this guy, who I’d take into the bathroom on this plane right now, just to join the Mile High Club. A soft moan escapes me and my body shivers.
“Are you okay, Princess? Something you need help with?” Eli leans closer, whispering to me. His eyes have a twinkle to them and the thought of crawling into his lap, not giving a fuck who sees, crosses my mind.
He thinks he’s embarrassing me, but he’s not, so I decide to play along. “What if I did? Are you going to follow me to the bathroom, slam my face up against the wall, and fuck me from behind?” I let out a raspy moan and bite my bottom lip, peering up at him through my lashes.
He grins, looking up toward the seat belt sign that now shows we can move around the cabin, and stands. He leans down and whispers into my ear, which sends shivers down my spine. “Your wish is my command. Give me a minute, then follow behind me. Wouldn’t want them to know what we’re doing.”
What the fuck do I do now?