Chapter 1
Chapter One
Tyler
How did I get here?
Via meddling family and well-meaning friends, that’s how.
Why hasn’t anybody invented teleportation yet?
Having your molecules disassembled, transported thousands of miles, and reassembled must be safer than getting in a giant tin can that looks too big and heavy to fly.
My heart is racing. My breathing is ragged and, oh god, my flight is boarding.
I can’t do this. I don’t care how much I want to be in New York.
I can’t get on this plane. I can’t get on any plane.
Gripping my passport and boarding pass tightly in my shaking hand, I do a one-eighty and stride away from the queue, right into a sturdy chest. It’s a wonder we didn’t bash heads too. I’m bounced backward, stumbling. The man I knocked into grabs my wrist, preventing me from falling.
“Whoa. Are you okay?” He has a thick, fast-paced American accent.
“Oh, god, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—” I can’t decide if I’m tongue-tied because I collided with him, or because he’s gorgeous.
Thirty-something, thick, black glasses, dark eyes and hair, a tidy beard, and a trim physique. Be still, my heart. He’s handsome enough to take my mind off boarding for about half a second.
“I’ve got to go,” I say.
He raises his eyebrows. “Go? Isn’t this your flight?”
I glance over my shoulder. The queue of people is gradually going down as their passports are checked and they’re allowed through to the sky bridge that leads directly onto the plane.
“No. Well, yes. But I can’t.” I close my eyes and take a deep breath. It doesn’t help.
“You can’t get on the plane?” He seems genuinely surprised.
Which is probably better than pissed off. If I run away, the flight will be delayed because they’ll have to remove my luggage from the cargo hold.
“I—” My mouth is dry. “Please let me go,” I whisper.
He releases my wrist.
“Thank you.”
“Hold on a second.”
I stare at him.
“Why can’t you get on the plane?”
“I’m terrified of flying,” I squeak. “This was a mistake. A big mistake.” I widen my eyes. “A whopping mistake. I’ve never been on a plane.” I tug my hand through my hair, which is longer and shorter than his, while still being above collar length, barely.
He touches the pulse point on my wrist. “Take a deep breath.” His voice is deep, calm, and soothing enough to trigger my submissive side.
I obey, filling my lungs with oxygen.
“And another.”
I inhale again, allowing my chest to expand. The oxygen rushes around my body, making my head spin a little less and my extremities less tingly.
“Better?”
“A little, yes, thank you.”
“Where are you heading?” he asks.
“New York. For the Pride parade.” I get giddy thinking about it. “I’ve always wanted to go.”
He smiles as his expression becomes quizzical. “They don’t have Pride festivals in the UK?”
“They do. Most cities have them. But the one in New York looks amazing.”
“It is. You’ll enjoy it.”
My eyes almost bug out of my head. “You’ve been?”
“Every year.”
“Wow.”
“But you won’t get to go if you don’t board,” he says.
My pulse races again. “I—”
“Deep breaths.”
I nod and do as instructed. My eyes are prickling with tears. I’m a fool.
“You’ll be fine,” he says. “Tell the flight attendants you’re a nervous flyer and they’ll take care of you.” He gestures to the dwindling line. “We’d better go, before they close the gate.”
Despite my fear, I want to be a good boy for this kind, handsome stranger and get on the plane. Only my feet won’t move, and my breathing is getting ragged again.
He increases the pressure of his fingertips against my pulse point. “How about I go and tell them you’re a nervous flyer?”
“You’d— You’d do that?”
“If it would help?”
I nod uncertainly.
He takes my arm and guides me to the nearby seating. “Wait here.” He gives me a firm, commanding look. “Don’t run away. You can do this—?” He raises his voice as though asking a question.
It takes me a moment to realize he’s waiting for me to tell him my name. “Tyler. Uh, most people call me Ty.”
He grins. “Great to meet you, Ty. I’m Emmet.”
Emmet. His name is as beautiful as he is.
I concentrate on keeping my breathing calm, while he goes over to the air stewards.
Almost everyone is on board now, so I have to get on, or I’ll hold the whole flight up.
Why did I think this was a good idea? Why did I let my parents talk me into to this trip?
I was excited at first. But the closer it got to boarding, the more terrified I became. Mum drove me to the airport and waited with me until I had to go through security. Since then, I’ve been getting increasingly worked up. This was a terrible mistake.
I’m dimly aware of Emmet showing the air stewards his passport and boarding pass and then pointing at me, a smile on his face.
I can’t hear what they’re saying, and I’m not sure why they’re having a protracted conversation.
Surely all he needed to say was, ‘That’s Tyler.
He’s having a panic attack about boarding the plane.
Be nice to him, okay?’ Or something along those lines.
One of the air stewards, a woman who’s probably only a couple of years older than me, comes over and sits beside me. “Hi, I understand you’re a bit nervous about flying with us today?”
I glance at Emmet, who smiles at me encouragingly, before heading onto the sky bridge. I guess that’s the last I’ll see of him.
I nod miserably in answer to the air steward’s question.
“Believe it or not, I used to be nervous about flying too,” she says.
I blink at her. “You did?”
“Yes. Would it help if I came to check on you periodically during the flight?”
“Uh, I guess.”
“We’re expecting good weather during the flight, although there may be a little turbulence over the Atlantic. It’ll get a bit bumpy, but it’s nothing to worry about.”
I grimace.
“Let’s get on board. Once we’re in the air, I’ll bring you a cold drink and a cup of ice.”
“Ice?”
She smiles and nods. “Ice helps me keep calm. It might help you too.”
“Uh, thank you.”
She helps me stand and guides me to her colleague, who checks my boarding pass.
Then, she walks me along the sky bridge, onto the plane, chatting about her favorite routes to fly as an air steward.
She sees me to my seat, which is by the window, over the wing, in economy.
Only one of the two seats beside mine is occupied. By Emmet.
He smiles warmly. “Looks like we’re sitting together.”
I’m incapable of doing anything but gape at him.
“You’d better sit down.” He stands so that I can get in.
The air steward takes my hand luggage and stows it in the overhead locker. “I’ll come back once we’re in the air.”
“Thank you.”
She smiles and moves slowly down the aisle, looking at every passenger as she goes.
I have to brush past Emmet to get into my seat. I almost trip over nothing, but he steadies me with a gentle, firm grip.
“I’m so sorry,” I mumble, as I settle into my seat.
“What about?”
“Everything. The last thing you need is eight hours next to me.”
He chuckles. “What makes you say that?”
“I’m going to be a mess the whole flight.”
His eyes twinkle and crease a little at the corners as he smiles. “Not if I’m able to distract you.”
I stare at him. “You don’t need to do that.”
He shrugs. “All I’ll be doing is watching a movie or trying to catch some Zs. I reckon talking to you will be far more interesting.”
Heat rises to my cheeks. “I doubt that.”
“I don’t. You can start by telling me how you got your hair to look like that. It’s fantastic. Did you do it especially for Pride?”
I touch my hair, but don’t have time to respond before the pilot’s voice comes over the intercom.
“Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen and welcome to this afternoon’s flight to JFK International Airport.”