58
Valentina
In terms of regular Thanksgiving travel, I’m leaving early. As for college students going home, I’m leaving late. That means I have a row to myself on this flight. Which is perfect, because as soon as I sit down, I start crying my eyes out.
I wanted this to end. I wanted the pain to be over. But the pain is never going to be over. With him or not, I’m going to be in pain for probably the rest of my life.
“Miss?” I quickly look up at the flight attendant. Her eyes track the tears rolling down my cheeks as she plasters on a comforting smile. “Is this your first time flying?”
I quickly wipe my tears and shake my head. “No. I’m sorry. I’m alright.”
“Can I get you anything?” she asks, not believing me one bit.
I weakly smile at her. “You wouldn’t happen to have anything for a broken heart, would you?”
She nods in understanding. “How old are you?” she asks. “If you’re of age, I can get you something a bit stronger than ginger ale.”
I quickly dig through my purse and pull out my ID. She glances over the card and hands it back with a smile. “I’ll be right back with your drink, Miss.”
“Thank you.”
The flight attendant leaves, and I lean back in my seat. Tears still try to get through, but I don’t have any more strength in me to cry them right now. And besides, I’m going to see my brother. The one person I can really count on for anything in the world.
I don’t care if Huxley said we aren’t telling our families; I’m telling Will everything. Mainly because I need help, but I also don’t know if I can get through the rest of this week ignoring Huxley.
“Here you are, Miss.”
I look up at the flight attendant and carefully take the plastic cup from her. “Thank you.”
“Can I get you anything else?”
“No, thank you. This is perfect.”
She smiles and continues moving around the plane to talk to other passengers. I take a small drink and wince.
Jesus, what did she put in here? I know I said to deal with a broken heart, but this feels like it will make my heart jump out of my chest and run away to avoid the burn.
I take another, smaller sip. At least that one wasn’t as bad. I lean into the seat as the plane starts to move. Now I just have to sit still for this five-and-a-half-hour flight and try not to cry anymore.
Should be easy.
Or the hardest thing I’ve had to do.
I take another, longer drink from my cup and try to relax.
I shouldn’t have let Huxley kiss me before I left. I was so set on ending everything with him until he kissed me. And that always happens.
He has the ability to change my mind with one touch, one kiss, sometimes even one look, and I’m falling into his arms.
Being with Huxley Adams is like jumping off a cliff blindfolded. You want to enjoy the fall, but you have no idea what’s waiting for you at the bottom.
Right now, in this very moment, it feels like I’ll fall into clear blue waters, safe and secure.
But what happens if I take off running for the edge of the cliff, and there isn’t water below?
Fuck. What am I going to do?
One second I’m certain, the next I’m not.
One second, I want to end everything with Huxley, the next, I want him to hold me like he used to.
I want us to be okay. I don’t want to hurt anymore because of him. I want us to go back to the beginning when we were happy. When everything was easy, and I didn’t have to worry so much.
And that isn’t even true. I’ve always worried about our relationship. About which girl was going to take him away from me. About which guy was going to try to hurt me because I was with him.
We’ve never had a solid moment together. Even the ones that felt safe had a layer of pain tied to it.
God, this feels like chaos that will never settle. Like a deadly poison with no antidote. Like a love building and breaking all at once—a haunting symphony from a rockstar’s broken heart.
I cover my eyes with my hand and try to concentrate.
Is it possible to be terrified and excited at the same time? I suppose that’s how people feel on rollercoasters. Which is pretty synonymous with my relationship with Huxley.
Okay stop. You have to stop.
I take a deep breath, closing my eyes and sinking into the seat. I can’t keep thinking about this. I have a whole flight to get through, so I can’t…
Wait.
I lean closer to my window. That looks like JFK airport.
I glance at my now-empty cup, then scan the surrounding seats. Everyone is putting their things away and buckling back up to prepare for landing. Shit, that was fast. What was in that drink?
I reach for my bag, but my head sways a bit. Okay. I’m obviously drunk. I pull in a few deep breaths while I wait for the people around me to move from their seats. While I wait, I turn my phone back on.
Immediately, a message comes through.
Huxley: Text me when you land, Captain Demarco.????
I giggle at the message. Not sure if that’s the alcohol, the pain, or just pure enjoyment over Huxley sending me an emoji. I quickly type a response.
Valentina: The wings of this bird have touched the concrete world. ????
Okay. The prayer hands are definitely the alcohol kicking in.
Huxley: What the fuck, Valentine. ??
The man across the aisle from me stands, so I put my phone away and focus on getting myself up and putting one foot in front of the other. Which happens much better than I was expecting, I must add. With my bag in hand and the rest of the passengers leaving the plane, I head for the exit.
The flight attendant who gave me the drink shoots me a wink as I walk up to her. Right now, I can’t tell if she’s flirting, giving me courage, or admitting to drugging me.
Whatever her reason, I offer her a smile and hurry off the plane.
I’m barely inside the terminal, barely away from other passengers waiting for their flight or running to their next one, when someone barrels into me, hugging me tightly. I smile and wrap my arms around him, and he squeezes me tighter.
“It’s so good to see you, Tina,” my brother says, not ready to let me go. I grip him tighter in response.
“It’s so good to see you, too, Will Jenson.”
Yes, I call my brother by his full name, and I have since he got married. He told me he didn’t want to be associated with our parents anymore, so I call him Will Jenson so he never has to be called his other name again.
“Hey, Val.” I turn around and look up at JJ, Will’s husband. Even though I’m older than both of them—Will by three years and JJ by one—I look the youngest because of my size, both of them just over six feet.
Height was not something I got from my parents, but I’ll take it because it means not looking more like them than I already do.
“Hi, JJ.”
He pulls me into a quick hug before taking my bag from me.
Will grabs my hand, keeping us locked together as we all head out of the airport.
Once we get outside, Will and JJ stop to try to remember where they parked.
While they go back and forth, the pressure in my head builds even more, and I sway slightly.
An arm wraps around my shoulders before I fall backwards.
“Are you drunk?” Will laughs.
“I had a drink on the flight,” I admit.
“You fly well, though.”
“I know.”
His smile falls, his expression turning serious. “We’ll talk about this soon.”
It’s not often that Will is serious with me. And he shouldn’t have to, since he’s my younger brother. But there was one other time I remember his voice sounding like this. And that was Sophomore year, when I tried to kill myself. So, honestly, his seriousness is appropriate.
We finally head to the car, and I slip into the back seat. I barely notice anything going on around me with my pounding head, the mixture of alcohol, lack of sleep, and crying settling in.
My eyes start closing on me.
I try to stay awake, but Will and JJ’s voices fade out, and I finally manage to get some sleep.