Chapter 1
ONE
DALLAS
“Excuse me,” a blonde woman said loudly enough to be heard over the audiobook playing through my earbuds, an air of impatience in her voice.
I glanced up at her from where I was sitting, in one of the most uncomfortable airport chairs I’d ever encountered, and clicked the button to darken my phone. “Yes?” To hear her better, I pulled out one of my earbuds.
She put on a wide smile. “Is anyone sitting there?”
I looked to where she was pointing, at the seat directly next to me, before casting my gaze around the airport seating area.
In addition to the spot next to me, there were dozens of empty seats, people spread out but with plenty of space for her to park anywhere she wanted.
I raised my eyebrow. “Not that I’m aware of. ”
She grinned and took the seat next to me, crossing her long legs and positioning her dark blue roller bag in front of her. Satisfied the interaction was complete, I put my earbud back in, but as I did, she placed a well-manicured hand on my arm.
I removed the earbud once again. “Yes?”
“Sorry.” Her tone was sweet and apologetic. “I just wondered… Do you happen to have any hand sanitizer?”
I frowned and shook my head. “Afraid not.” With that, I returned to my audiobook, a historical look at the way people treated the rivers that flowed through their cities, including utilization and pollution, particularly before the industrial revolution.
I found it fascinating and I was grateful it had been recommended to me at the conference I’d just attended.
I listened intently, nodding along when the author made points I agreed with or that resonated with me, completely rapt with attention.
Less than a minute later, a tap on my shoulder startled me back to the present moment. “Can I ask you something?”
I blinked a few times to bring my focus to the woman next to me, suppressed a sigh with a forced smile, and nodded at her. “Yes?” I said for the third time.
“I couldn’t help but notice what you’re listening to. A book, right? Is it good?”
“It’s great,” I said, wondering what her angle was, why she couldn’t just go sit somewhere else and stop bothering me.
“What’s it about?”
“Rivers.” Deep down, I knew that if I gave her too much information, I’d never get out of the conversation.
“Rivers? How… interesting.” Her tone indicated that she found it anything but interesting.
“Well,” I said slowly. “It gives an intimate look at how important rivers are to the survival of civilizations.”
“Hmm.” She hesitated for a moment. “Would you like to get a drink with me?” She nodded in the direction of the airport bar that was diagonally across from our gate.
I gave her a thin smile. “I’d really like to finish this book, if you don’t mind.”
“Oh, come on. It’s Valentine’s Day and I don’t want to drink alone.”
I shook my head firmly. “Sorry.”
She sighed. “I understand.” I thought that was the end of it until she cleared her throat again. “So, what do you do for a living?”
I bit the inside of my bottom lip to keep from saying something I didn’t want to regret.
Why I was worrying about hurting the feelings of this stranger who wouldn’t leave me alone was something I should probably examine closer at some point.
Was I being nice or being a pushover? I didn’t have time to think about it too hard. “I work at a museum.”
She nodded and gave me a bright smile. “That’s great! I love museums. Which one?”
It was then that I began to suspect I wasn’t getting out of the conversation without picking up and moving seats. I suppressed a sigh and forced another smile. “Port Grandlin Museum of Art and History.”
“Then you’re heading home,” she chirped, indicating the destination of the plane I was waiting to board.
“I am.”
“Me too!” The woman, who introduced herself then as Erica, kept talking, launching into a monologue.
As she talked, the seats around us began to fill in, the boarding area becoming more crowded as we approached the departure time.
Erica kept talking, though, telling me about her job as a social worker, that she was recently single, and asking if I was sure I didn’t want to go get a drink with her.
Finally, when she paused, I put a hand on her arm, the way she’d done to me when she’d first sat down.
“Erica,” I said gently. “I appreciate that, but I’m not interested.
” I said the words carefully, in an attempt to be gentle with her.
I didn’t want to draw too much attention to our conversation, but I noticed there was a masc-presenting person sitting just across the way from us, and their gaze flicked up when I mentioned my sexuality.
In their lap was a book stuffed with sticky notes, and they gave a little smirk as I spoke.
“Oh. Well, then.” She stood then and gathered her things. “I’m sorry to have bothered you.”
“You didn’t—” I started, but let my next words fall away. She had annoyed me, at least as I had been trying to read.
Either way, I was grateful that she moved several seats away and started talking to the person with the sticky notes, giving me the space to go back to my book.
An hour later, the airline attendants called for boarding, and I gave Erica and the person she was talking to a polite nod as I headed to the gate.
I took my aisle seat, tucking my small carry-on bag under the seat in front of me, and before I had a chance to wonder if I’d be sitting in my row alone, Erica appeared, nodding at the seat in the middle of my row.
“This is me,” she murmured.
I gave her another tight smile and helped her put her large roller bag into the overhead compartment before sitting down again, secretly praying to the gods that she’d be quiet while we flew so I could actually keep listening to the book.
I wasn’t trying to be rude. I just liked to keep to myself, especially in public, especially when it came to strangers, and especially when I was trying to mentally decompress from a weeklong trip to a work conference that had gotten my head spinning with all of the incredible things I’d learned and heard about my colleagues doing.
A few moments later, the person with the sticky notes stopped at our row. “I’m the window seat,” they murmured.
I closed my eyes briefly before standing once more as Erica exclaimed how lucky it was that they were going to sit next to each other and chat the whole flight home. I, for one, was very, very grateful the flight from Atlanta to Port Grandlin was only an hour and a half.