Chapter 1
ONE
TROYE
I fucking hated airplanes. And airports.
And travelling. I hated feeling like a sardine in a can.
The twenty depression pounds I’d put on since the break-up certainly didn’t help my comfort level.
Already I was dreading being squashed into an airplane seat for the next six hours.
But at the end of this long flight was my home, my bed, and my cat.
I’d used my cameras to check on Morris frequently, and he seemed fine.
But I knew he was missing me even if he didn’t show it.
I fucking hated the way airplanes smelled like stale air and stress. Maybe the sour, stressed smell was coming off of me, but I chose to blame the plane. It was a packed flight, and the closer I got to my row, the more nervous I got because there didn’t seem to be a lot of seats left on this plane.
My concern morphed into all-out panic when I reached my row and found someone in my seat. My stomach did a somersault as I checked my ticket and compared it against the row and seat label.
“Uh,” I said to the stranger. He’d already made himself comfortable, his baseball cap pulled low over his face. “Excuse me, but you’re in my seat.”
When he didn’t respond, I added, “Sir?”
Finally, baseball cap guy lifted his gaze. He gave me a onceover that had me worrying maybe I really was the bad smell on the airplane. My hands were slick with sweat, and I thought maybe my heart was going to explode.
Baseball cap guy was kind of hot, if you were into the smoldering, angry type with sharp cheekbones and a full, kissable mouth.
“Can I help you?” His voice was deep and smooth.
“You’re in my seat.” My nerves didn’t help my manners any, and I practically shoved my boarding pass in his face. “See. 15C. That’s me.”
Hot, angry guy leaned to the right so he could reach into his back left pocket. He pulled out his wallet, and from there he pulled out his boarding pass. “I’m in my seat,” he said, showing me the pass.
Well, fuck my life. He wasn’t wrong. His name also wasn’t Baseball Cap or Hot Angry Guy. According to the pass, it was Matthew. He didn’t look like a Matthew. All the Matthews I ever met were smaller. Softer. Nicer.
“Well, that doesn’t change the fact that you’re in my seat.” Logic had fled the building. It had skedaddled out of my head and right off the plane the minute I realized I was fucked. Someone was in my seat because it was also his seat.
“You can call it yours all you want, but that won’t change the fact that it’s my seat, and I’m already sitting in it.”
“Please, I just want to get home.”
Matthew looked at me with impatience. “You and the other three hundred people on this flight. You’re not special, Troye.”
I hated the way he said my name. It was so snotty sounding, like he’d decided he was offended by it. It was a perfectly good name. Better than Matthew. Matthews were a dime a dozen.
“You’re not God, Matthew.” I injected as much scorn into his name as I could, and that motherfucker had the audacity to smile at me like it was the cutest, funniest thing he’d ever heard.
“I’ve been called God a time or two.” Matthew’s gross smirk only grew.
“You’re in my seat,” I tried again. Because that was the way to solve a problem. Repeat yourself with increasing volume and shrillness until they finally cracked. Yes. It was a form of psychological torture invented by my mother and perfected by me.
Matthew shrugged a shoulder and pulled his cap down low again. Then promptly ignored me. Every eye in the plane was on me, and I could feel their individual stares boring a hole into me. Begging me to sit down. To not cause a scene. To get off the plane so they could be on their way.
Sometimes you can feel yourself doing something that you know is a bad idea, but you do it anyway.
It’s as if you’re outside your body, watching yourself be an absolute dumbass, but you can’t stop yourself.
You can’t alter your course of action because you’re not even in control of yourself anymore. Panicked lizard brain had taken over.
And that’s how I ended up plopping myself in Matthew’s lap. My carry-on was pressed tight to my chest, held there like a shield and a life vest, and maybe a security blanket.
Matthew shouted in surprise, which got the attention of the flight attendant, who just now seemed to notice there was a problem.
“Get off me!” he yelled. Screamed, really. An overreaction if you asked me.
“No. This is my seat, and you’re in it, so therefore you are now my seat.” It sounded perfectly logical—if you’d lost your grip on reality. I knew it was half-baked when I did it. But I was so fucking tired and I just wanted to get home, and Matthew was the only thing stopping me.
Well, him and a confused-looking flight attendant.
“Get off me, you fucking… leech.” Matthew tried to shove me off, but I remained wedged between him and the seat in front of him. The occupant of which had to be having a bad time with all the jostling Matthew was doing.
“Is there a problem here?” the flight attendant asked. Which was a really stupid question. Obviously there was a problem here.
“Obviously there’s a problem here,” Matthew yanked the words out of my brain and hurled them at the poor innocent flight attendant. “This maniac won’t get off me.”
“Maniac?” Yeah, I could see it, but that didn’t mean I had to take it. “I wouldn’t have to be on you if you weren’t in my seat.”
He tried again to push me off, but I held firm, making sure there was no way he could dislodge me without getting super physical. A gentle nudge wouldn’t do it. He’d need a crowbar.
“It’s. Not. Your. Seat.” Matthew, it seemed, was made of steel because he launched me out of his lap like his arms were spring-loaded.
I flew off his lap like a cork popping out of a bottle of champagne and like a cork, I ricocheted off the seat across the aisle, smashing my face against the back of another seat.
The plane was suddenly louder than it was before. The other passengers, having witnessed our little tussle, were growing impatient. As was the flight crew.
“Sir, are you okay?” one of the flight attendants asked, because there were two here now.
I managed to get to my feet and my carry-on was handed to me by a lovely woman who had caught it when I’d gone flying. I mustered up my last shred of dignity and turned to Matthew.
“You’re. In. My. Seat,” I said through gritted teeth. My jaw clenched so hard I worried I might crack a molar.
“Sir,” one of the flight attendants tried to get my attention, but I ignored them so I could glare at Matthew, wishing looks really could kill. “Sir,” they tried again, but it was the sharp, no-nonsense tone of their third attempt that snatched my attention. “Sir!”
“Sorry.” I whipped my head around to face them.
“We’re going to have to ask you to get off the plane.”
“What?” I hated that my voice had gone up an octave and had squeaked out of me, sounding every bit like I was out of my mind. My boarding pass trembled in my hand as I tried to show it to the flight attendant to prove my point.
Matthew smirked at me and gave a little wave, but the flight attendant turned to him next. “You too, sir. The airline has a zero-tolerance policy for violence.”
“Great! So kick him off. He pushed me. You all saw it.”
“I pushed you because you sat on me. Who does that?” Matthew stood and grabbed his bag from the overhead compartment. Like a good little boy. Like Mister Fucking Perfect. Mister “sure I’ll cooperate all of the sudden.”
“Look, he’s leaving. That means I can have his seat.” I tried reasoning with the flight attendant, but she just shook her head.
“You either deplane willingly, or we’ll have the police come and escort you off in handcuffs. If you leave quietly, the airline will rebook your flight. If you resist, you risk being put on our no-fly list.”
Fuck my entire life. My whole, entire life.
I was single. On Valentine’s Day. Across the country from home.
And now I was going to be stuck in an airport for God only knew how long.
Maybe the single part wouldn’t have bothered me so much if I hadn't just flown across the country to watch my friend get married to his childhood sweetheart. Loneliness hit different during someone else’s wedding.
Getting off the plane was the last thing I wanted to do, but a final look at the expression of the flight crew let me know that I was on the very thinnest of ice. Paper thin. Rice paper thin. One wrong move and I was going to end up in airport jail.
Reluctantly, I headed for the exit where thankfully the plane still attached to the jet bridge. I walked off the plane, pretending to not hear the round of applause and cheers that erupted when I disappeared through the cabin door.
Airport security was waiting for us, just in case we chose to misbehave.
Matthew motioned to me. “He’s the one who can’t control himself.”
“I’m the one? You shoved me.”
Airport security guy was fucking scary, though.
He had the face of a UFC fighter that had been through some hard rounds in his life.
His nose had been broken several times by the looks of it.
His mouth was wide, giving him a menacing appearance.
All it took was one hard stare from his steely eyes for my bowels to turn to water.
“Sorry,” I said quickly, trying to appease the giant, angry-looking security guard.
He escorted us to the gate and stood nearby as we talked to someone from the airline.
Well, as Matthew talked to them. I stood by in silence wishing I could go back to the moment I realized he’d been in my seat and do everything over again.
But if we were going back in time, let’s be real.
I’d go back in time and get on that flight before him and then he’d be the one shit out of luck, and I’d be on my way home.
“The best we can do is book you both for tomorrow. All the flights until the four PM departure are overbooked, but that one still has seats left. I can put you both on it.”
“Four PM. As in the afternoon? Tomorrow?” The flight was six hours. With the time difference, I wouldn’t get home until one in the morning.
“That’ll be fine.” Matthew glared at me. “Right, Troye?”
I mumbled a response that Matthew took for a yes. I mean, what choice did I have? None. I was lucky they were even letting me fly at all after the scene I’d caused.
“If you gentlemen want to book a room at one of the hotels in or near the airport, you’ll want to act fast. Several flights have been cancelled because of inclement weather.”
I was not built for airport floors, so I pulled my phone out before she even finished talking and reserve a room at the hotel in the airport.
It was pricey as hell, but it would be worth every penny.
I could sleep. And bathe. And get the stench of airport off me.
And best of all, I could forget all about Matthew.