Chapter One #3
Evie: And before you ask if I’m sure…shut up. Before I really let you be dusty musty crusty by yourself
Me: So unserious. Goodbye
Evie: Wait hold up…you think I can get Micah to slide me some dick this trip?
Evie: Scale of 1-10
Me: *inserts gif of ‘I said good day’ from Willy Wonka*
Evie: Now you’re already a sad and lonely bitch over Arnold’s ass let’s not add hater to that list. It’s not cute
Evie: *insert gif of Jackee laughing*
A derisive snort slips past my lips. Evie catches my eye to send a subtle smirk and wink my way, so I reach up to scratch my nose with my middle finger.
An overwhelming sense of being watched falls over me and without looking I somehow know I’m going to find mesmerizing onyx irises when I lift my head.
Sure enough, there he is sitting a mere row over, manspreading because it’s impossible for the chair to hold all of him. Fuck, the man has tree trunks for thighs.
His eyes remain fixated on me, not in judgment and not even in lust, just unbridled curiosity.
What do you want from me, Rome?
Almost as if he can hear the thought cross my mind, he looks away, turning his attention to his phone.
This is about to be the longest two weeks of my life.
A little while later, we’ve finally boarded the plane.
Evie popped her Xanax twenty minutes ago, so I know I only have her company for maybe another ten before she’s out.
Probably less, because she’s already starting to lean her head against the window.
She squeezes my hand just before her eyes flutter closed. Definitely less than ten minutes.
“This seat taken?”
My head whips around to face the voice that I’m sure I couldn’t have heard.
Nope, I heard it alright. What the hell is he doing here?
“You lost, Rome? First class is that way.” I point in the direction of the front of the plane.
He must be more conscious of the other people boarding the plane than I am because he quickly breaks eye contact to lift his carry-on into the overhead bin.
The move causes his hoodie to lift just enough so I can catch a glimpse of the cut of his abs.
I move to the middle seat, so he won’t have to climb over me to sit down.
I can’t be held responsible for my actions if his dick gets too close to my face.
He folds himself into the aisle seat beside me with a shrug. “A woman was having an issue so I offered her my seat.”
“An issue? What kind of issue?”
“The kind where she discovers her boyfriend is cheating on her as they’re boarding this plane together and is seconds away from having a nervous breakdown.”
My jaw drops. “Oh shit.”
“Yeah.”
I tear my eyes away from his to scour the plane. “Where is the guy? I’ma boo his ass.”
I lift up from my seat but his hand locks onto the crook of my arm as he wheezes out a laugh. “Ayo, you can’t do that!”
“Why not?” I shrug. “He shouldn’t have cheated on my girl.”
His brows jump to his hairline. “You don’t even know the woman.”
“I know nobody deserves to get cheated on, so if he can embarrass her like that then he can get embarrassed too.”
He studies me closely, nodding his head slowly, processing each of my words carefully. His assessment makes the back of my neck heat, but I resist the urge to pull the collar of my shirt away from it.
“Gray hat. Pinkish shirt.”
I search all over until I find him a few rows behind us.
He takes his hat off to run his hand through the maple brown layered fringe mop on his head.
Even sitting down, I can tell he’s tall but also on the lanky side.
The color of his shirt drowns out his alabaster skin.
He’s sitting next to a gorgeous Black woman with amber skin and a blonde short twist bob.
My jaw goes slack when I see him do a sniff test on his shirt and then turn a charming smile on the woman. What the fuck?
Rome whispers to me that the ex-girlfriend just stuck her head out from first class to scowl at the man.
I lean over him to get a glimpse of her, but Rome’s heady scent fills my nostrils and blinds me to everything else around me.
He smells like wood directly after a rainstorm.
It’s a comforting smell, one that makes me want to curl up in his arms for a nap.
I give up on trying to see the ex, needing some distance from Rome, so I turn my focus back to the cheater behind us. He’s chatting up “Ms. Short Twist Bob” without a care in the world.
Fuck this man. He’s walking around looking like James’s peach but has the nerve to play in another woman’s face immediately after being exposed as a cheater.
If there’s one thing men are never short on, it’s audacity.
I hold up my phone and snap a picture of the man.
“I just know you’re up to no good right now. What you got going on?” Rome asks.
“Just working a little magic on Canva.”
He leans over my shoulder to look at my screen, invading my senses with that damn scent again. I retype the same line three times before I’m able to shake off his hypnosis.
He cups his fist around his mouth and lets out a howl of a laugh. “Ayo, you’re really sending that out?”
“Hunnid percent,” I deadpan as I hit the button that would airdrop the image I created to all Apple users on the plane.
Rome pulls out his phone when it pings with the notification to give the image another once-over. He shakes his head in amusement and turns that gorgeous grin on me. “You’re a savage.”
The flyer I sent out is a wanted poster with the picture I took of “Mystery Guy” on the forefront and a transparent photo behind him of a man in a lab coat holding a long cucumber in one hand and a small pickle in the other.
The caption reads: “ Have you seen this man? Owner of a small dirty dick incapable of keeping it in his pants. Last seen in any and everyone’s dms. If found, please return to the streets. ”
“And don’t you forget it,” I answer.
I look around the plane at numerous passengers receiving and laughing at the post. I can tell “Ms. Short Twist Bob” got it because she looks from her phone to “Mystery Guy” with disgust and twists her body away from him.
A boisterous laugh drifts from the front of the plane and a smile crosses my face at the hope that “Ms. Dodged a Bullet” received my gift.
The icing on the cake is when “Mystery Guy” himself sees it. His head flies up to search the plane but when he realizes he doesn’t have an ally because most people are either laughing at him or looking at him with shame, he shrinks back into his seat and pulls his hat back over his hair.
Damn, that felt good.
The flight attendants announce the plane’s approaching departure and run through the safety precautions before heading to their takeoff seats.
A peaceful quiet falls over Rome and me, with Evie’s soft snores serving as our backup music.
“Is she good? She’s slump over there.” Rome points to Evie.
“Oh yeah, she’s good. The power of Xanax.”
“Ah, not a fan of planes then. My dad is the same way. He refuses to go on any vacation where he can’t drive, take a bus, or train.”
“I guess it’s safe to say he won’t be coming to this then.”
“Absolutely not. He told Arnold not to even waste an invite on him. Him and my mom are gonna stay home and watch my nephew when my brother gets here next week so it worked out.”
“So, how’s your mom feel about your dad’s international travel ban?”
He chuckles. “She couldn’t care less. She travels with her friends and sisters and leaves his ass at home whenever the mood strikes. She told him if she fucks around and finds an international side piece, he’ll have no one to blame but himself.”
“Your mom sounds like my kind of woman.”
“I think so too. She would’ve loved how you obliterated ol’ boy.”
I put my hand to my chest then throw my hand out. “Why, thank you. That was light work.”
“I could tell. Remind me not to get on your bad side.”
“What would be the fun in that?” I tilt my head to the side in question and he playfully rolls his eyes.
The plane starts its descent down the runway, calling my gaze to the window. I watch with rapt attention as the wheels lift off the ground and the runway becomes smaller and smaller until there’s nothing in sight but clouds.
When I peek back over at Rome, he’s watching me intently. Was he speaking? “Sorry, I love to watch planes take off.”
“It’s no problem. What do you love about it?”
No one’s ever asked me that before. I feel like there are two kinds of people: window-seat people and aisle-seat people. Let’s face it, no one willingly chooses the middle seat, but no one really asks why each group prefers one over the other. It just is what it is.
“There’s a freedom in literally watching your problems disappear beneath you.
In giving someone else the control to carry you away from reality for a while.
Does that sound stupid?” I hold on to the tethers of my control so vehemently that it’s liberating when I have no choice but to give it up.
The very thing that terrifies Evie about flying exhilarates me.
He shakes his head earnestly. “Not at all. It actually makes perfect sense.” A sense of appreciation washes over me at his affirmation. “So, why aren’t you sitting in the window seat?”
“I always let Evie sit in the window seat, so her head doesn’t bobble around when she passes out.”
I expect Rome to laugh with me at my comment, but he doesn’t. He leans back in his seat, seemingly mulling over my words, picking them apart and chewing each one piece by piece, and the look he gives me when he refocuses tells me he doesn’t like their taste.
“Do you make it a habit to sacrifice things that make you happy for others’ comfort?”
I bristle at that. His words slice through my defenses faster than I can build them back up, leaving me speechless. Trying to buy myself some time to come up with anything to say, I force out a cough. I can’t decide if I’m more offended because he doesn’t know me or because he sees too much.
“It’s not like that. It’s just not a big deal because I can still see out the window. You’ve never compromised for someone you care about?”
“Of course. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to come off like I was judging you. I just think sometimes we lose ourselves in our compromises and forget that ‘no’ is a full sentence.” He clears his throat.
The rest of the plane falls away as silence stews within our bubble, simmering into acceptance and understanding.
“Got it. So, when the flight attendant comes around for drink orders, I’ll get both the tequila and white wine instead of compromising down to one,” I quip, needing some levity to break up the intensity of this interaction.
He seems to appreciate the moment coming to an end and laughs along with me. We switch to much lighter topics and before I know it, the pilot chimes in over the speaker to announce our arrival in Cancun.
“Damn, that plane ride flew by,” he says as he stretches his arms out. “Are you gonna watch the plane land?”
My lips split into a wide grin. “I sure am. There’s a method to my madness. I always watch the takeoff from home and the landing at my destination, but not vice versa.”
“Because the landing at your destination means you’ve reached your safe haven away from whatever plagues you at home. Takeoff from your vacation spot symbolizes the end of peace and landing at home means watching your problems take center stage again.”
Well shit.
“Exactly. You get it.”
“I try. Here we go.” I turn to face the window, watching the beauty of Mexico grace us but my body is buzzing with an awareness of Rome’s proximity over my shoulder.
Once the wheels hit the runway, my head bounces back slamming into the brick wall known as Rome’s chest. He reaches his hand up to smooth the dull ache at the back of my neck. Why does his touch feel so right?
“You good?” His voice is a faint whisper, but I feel it in my belly.
“All good.” Relief floods me when he doesn’t stop rubbing my neck.
Evie stirs beside me, shattering whatever fucking trance we fell into. She blinks her eyes open, assessing her surroundings.
“Shit,” she whispers to herself. Her brows furrow when she turns and sees Rome, much farther away from me than he was mere moments ago. “When did you get here, Rome?”
We laugh at her confusion and recap the story of the cheater, drawing a cackle out of her that garners the attention of the two rows in front of us.
Getting off the plane is uneventful. We’re able to grab our bags in no time at all and as we wait for Ri and Arnold to grab the rental cars that will take us from Cancun to Tulum, Rome and I keep circling each other.
Dani talks my ear off about how Christian acted up in first class, but my focus keeps drifting back to Rome and when I catch sight of him his eyes seem to always be on me.
“Okay, cars secured. Let’s ride! Girls with me,” Ri orders, walking off without waiting for confirmation from anyone.
I take one last look at Rome before turning to follow.