Chapter 13
chapter thirteen
Jude
Today's vocabulary word: altitude
It was almost four in the afternoon when the flight to Salt Lake finally boarded.
We'd talked through a few more rounds of drinks and then a plate of nachos built to Audrey's custom specifications, and I knew everything there was to know about her school, her friends, and their significant others.
Good people, if not a little chaotic where it came to love and relationships—though I wasn't sure I was free to throw those stones at the moment.
The flight was packed and everyone involved was already fried. Kids were crying. The plane smelled like old olives. The overhead bins were stuffed with things that belonged under the seat. The crew looked like they were ready to strangle complainers with an inflatable life vest.
None of it bothered me. Audrey was seated beside me, her book in her lap and her cheeks still rosy from the drinks and the stories, and we had the next five and a half hours ahead of us to talk about every little thing in her life.
If I played this right, my mother might actually believe we were engaged.
I didn't let myself register the way her elbow brushed my arm when she shifted. I knew I'd feel the press of her hip against me if I let my legs spread even a few inches. Didn't think about it at all.
"Uh, excuse me. Hello. Hi there." We glanced over to find a man smiling at us from the aisle.
"I'm traveling with my family today and we're thankful to be on our way but we're scattered all over the plane.
" He motioned to a pair of kids next to him who didn't look much older than Percy.
A woman sat perched on the edge of the seat across from us, bouncing a toddler on her lap as she watched.
"We were able to cobble together a few seats over here but I was wondering if one of y'all might be willing to trade with me so my wife isn't all on her own with these little monsters. "
Before I could process the request, Audrey shot up and stepped into the aisle, saying, "Oh my goodness, of course. You can have mine and I'll move."
I stood but the only thing I could manage to get out was "But—"
Ignoring me, the guy pressed a hand to his chest and said to Audrey, "You don't know how much I appreciate this."
"No worries," she replied, pulling her carry-on out from underneath the seat. "I don't mind at all. It's been such a hectic day for everyone." She glanced at me as she stepped into the aisle. "I'll see you when we land."
I nodded, still reeling from the newest change of plans. "Yeah," I managed. "I'll wait outside the gate." She smiled, her arms wrapped around her bag and her finger still wedged between the pages of her book. For no good reason at all, I added, "Let me know if you need anything."
She gave a quiet laugh that seemed to say What would I need you for? and then, "I'm sure I'll be all right."
I watched her pick her way to her new seat and kept staring even when the only thing I could see was the golden crown of her head.
I wasn't sure what I hoped to accomplish but I edged into the aisle.
There was a chance I'd be able to barter myself into a seat closer to Audrey.
It was possible. Maybe not realistic or even smart but still possible.
But maybe it was better to let her go. Give her space. Remind myself how to function around her—and how to shield myself from that gravity of hers. This journey hadn't even started and I was already drunk off her smiles.
A flight attendant stopped in front of me, her hands fisted on her hips. "Sir, I need you to take your seat right away."
"Yeah," I said with one last glance toward Audrey. She wasn't looking for me and that told me everything I needed to know. "Sorry for the disruption."
When I dropped into my seat, my new companion shoved his hand toward me, saying, "Clint. Thanks again for helping us out."
"Hey." I shook his hand but I didn't like it. I wanted to glare at him for the next five hours. I rubbed my forehead until new grooves formed in my skin instead.
The flight seemed ridiculously long. The hours stretched out every second into thin eternities just to fuck with me.
The work I should've tackled sat unopened, my laptop screen going dark only for me to swipe the touchpad every few minutes and wake it up again.
Engine test data, design analysis, even new models—things that usually caught my attention and swallowed me whole—blurred after a minute.
I told myself to stop thinking about her. There was no point in obsessing. I'd learned that the hard way—and then learned it a few more times.
But that didn't drive her out of my head. The whole damn plane seemed to vibrate with her presence. Every attempt to concentrate spiraled into an endless mental loop of her voice, her hair falling over her shoulder, her fingers tracing the edge of her glass.
By the time we hit cruising altitude, I'd already turned the same thought over a hundred different ways: I was in so much fucking trouble.