Chapter Three
THREE
I make a clicking noise in response.
‘Did you know we were travelling premium economy?’ Callum asks animatedly. ‘Looks like we got the extra legroom seats as well.’
‘I did not,’ I mutter, but I’m drowned out by one of the hens boarding shortly after us.
‘A tall drink like you wouldn’t cope with the standard legroom,’ she purrs, squeezing past Callum to reach the seats directly behind ours.
I can’t keep the smirk off my face as I watch him react to yet more blatant flirting.
His cheeks go pink and he pushes his hair up and off his forehead, looking like he’s casting around for an escape route.
‘It would definitely be trickier,’ Callum eventually settles on politely.
The bride – at least that’s my best guess as she’s the only one wearing a sash – gives Callum a lingering look as she settles in behind us, like a panther eyeing up breakfast. It’s at this point that I realise her sash reads ‘the end of an error’ and all the people in her group have the words ‘we never liked him anyway’ on their T-shirts.
A divorce party! Even better, I decide gleefully.
Callum really is going to have his hands full this flight.
‘Moss?’ he says, and I realise that I still haven’t committed to sitting down. If I pretend it isn’t happening, maybe a third seat will magic up out of nowhere? Or, more likely, Callum and I will be sitting next to each other for the next thirteen hours until we land at our layover in Singapore.
Thirteen hours of Callum Bang. Dear God.
‘Yep,’ I say, making a show of shuffling closer to my window seat while still not actually sitting down.
I should focus on how fancy premium economy is, I decide.
That’ll take my mind off things. We’re sitting right at the front of the plane, for a start.
Naturally Cody are travelling business so they boarded first and are luxuriating somewhere up on the top deck, probably with their own beds and maybe even a shower?
Still, this is really nice. I would never say this out loud but Callum is right, we have got the extra legroom seats.
I size up the space and imagine an alternative world where I definitely get up every hour to stretch and do yoga mid-flight.
The only slight snag with this seat (other than the obvious, human male-sized problem looming next to me) is that I won’t have access to my bag during take-off.
I start pulling out some essentials (lip balm, book, phone) and shoving them into a smaller bag to keep with me.
Within minutes my seat is filled with my own crap, stuff everywhere, and I have no idea where I’m going to stash the airline pillow and blanket we’ve been given.
I pause, suddenly aware that eyes are on me.
‘Want a hand?’ asks Callum. He has an entertained look on his face as he watches me.
‘No, thank you,’ I say primly. Finally wrangling everything but the essentials back into my weekend bag, I wait for a gap in the boarding passengers and step back out into the aisle, trying and failing to reach the handle for the overhead bins.
At five foot one, I find most things were not designed for people of my stature.
Tiptoes won’t do it. A sort of running jump won’t either.
Callum clears his throat and sighs as if exasperated by my existence.
‘Please, let me,’ he says, stepping out and opening up the locker in one easy move. I go to hoist my bag into the spot but I wobble, nearly dropping it on the passengers behind.
‘Here,’ he says, easing the bag out of my hands and effortlessly slotting it into place next to his.
‘I was doing that,’ I say.
‘Not very well. And you’re welcome.’
‘I didn’t say thank you.’
‘I noticed.’
‘Next time, I’ll ask if I need help.’
‘Jesus, Moss,’ he exhales. ‘You’re impossible sometimes, do you know that?’
I give Callum an incredulous look. ‘I’m impossible? Have you tried looking in the mirror? Wait, I’m sorry, that was rude of me. Sometimes I forget that vampires don’t have reflections.’
Callum clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth and looks like he is searching for strength. ‘I was just trying to help,’ he huffs. ‘You were about to drop your ridiculously enormous bag, after all.’
‘Oh no, nuh-uh, you don’t get to be critical of my amazing new weekend bag, Callum. It has a special zip section at the bottom for laundry!’
‘I feel like we’re veering off point?’ Callum folds his arms.
‘Please, continue.’ I roll my eyes.
‘I’m just saying that a little gratitude wouldn’t go amiss.’
‘You swooping in doing things unasked is the problem here,’ I say.
Callum lets out a frustrated exhale.
‘Noted. Won’t happen again. I apologize,’ he replies, sounding very unapologetic if you ask me.
‘How about we just agree to leave each other alone for the rest of the journey?’ I snap back, irked.
‘Fine by me,’ he says, rejecting the premium economy headset and shoving some standard airline-issue earphones into his ears before stretching out to tinker with the TV screen on the wall in front of him.
I shake my head. This is very much not going to plan so far but at least he’s now otherwise engaged and I can enjoy the flight in peace.
It’s a pretty busy flight and I decide to get to grips with some reading material while the final passengers find their seats.
Callum, who I am definitely not paying any attention to, is poring over the safety manual and I take the much more favourable option of the in-flight magazine.
Why are there so many cigar options? Do people seriously buy those on planes these days? Or, you know, anywhere?
It feels like we’ve been sitting here for a while and I check the time, worrying that we might be delayed. I’m fidgeting in my seat, keen to get this ordeal up and running, when the pilot makes an announcement over the intercom.
‘Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking. We apologize for the delay in take-off, we’re just waiting for one final passenger to board and then we’ll get straight to it.
The good news is we haven’t lost our take-off slot.
Current flight time to Singapore Changi Airport is approximately thirteen hours.
We should be landing at Singapore time 5. 30 a.m., Tuesday morning.’
There’s a collective grumble among fellow passengers as members of the cabin crew usher the latecomer on board, a couple of people going as far as to boo the person.
This seems a bit much to me, given that the captain said we haven’t lost our take-off slot.
Still, I would not like to be setting foot onto this flight with a bunch of angry travellers staring me down, I think, looking up to offer a friendly smile to the late boarder.
My heart jumps right up into my mouth when I see who it is.
See him.
After all these years.
‘Hamish,’ I whisper almost inaudibly to myself as my ex-boyfriend walks past. The one that got away.
Can it be?
Callum pulls his earphones out and gives me an are-you-talking-to-me look.
I swat him away with the back of my hand, like he’s a fly approaching my crisps.
My eyes track back to follow the figure of the man I fell in love with all those years ago.
The man I have definitely held a candle for ever since, even though I’ve tried not to.
The truth is I’ve thought about Hamish most days since we last hung out at this very airport, almost exactly a decade ago to the day, when I waved him off before his trip to Australia.
Since I cried hot tears because I was going to miss him so much.
Since he took my hand and held me tight and promised he’d be back within the year.
As the days turned into weeks and I still hadn’t heard from him, I had to resign myself to the fact that he wasn’t planning on getting in touch.
That he’d made his move abroad permanent which left no hope for the two of us ever getting back together.
I know I should have been mad at him for staying, or at the very least not getting in touch, but I just couldn’t summon up the energy to feel that way about him.
Because for a while, Hamish was everything. To say he swept me off my feet is an understatement. I guess I’ve been chasing that feeling ever since and always coming up short.
And now here he is with those piercing blue eyes. Those laughter lines I loved so much are a little more pronounced and his sandy-blond hair is even longer now, but otherwise, he’s the same as he ever was.
I watch him smile apologetically at a plane full of quite angry passengers and try not to gasp.
‘What a jerk,’ mutters Callum as Hamish is shown to his seat.
‘Don’t be a dick,’ I immediately snap back.
Callum’s gaze lands on me. ‘He’s late for a long-haul flight. If we get held up, we’ll miss our connecting flight from Singapore to Perth. It could have huge repercussions for this entire trip.’
‘Yes, but the pilot said we’ll be moving shortly and that we haven’t missed our slot. Keep your pants on.’
For reasons unknown, referencing Callum’s pants makes my cheeks feel hot so I flick my hair in front of my face as a distraction.
‘I’ll go back to the safety manual,’ Callum says, holding his hands up.
‘Good idea.’
‘Aren’t you reading yours?’
‘All right, Dad, I’ll get round to it.’
Eyebrow arched, Callum turns his attention back to the laminated sheet while I crane my neck to see where Hamish went.
I cannot believe he’s on this flight, too.
He hasn’t spotted me yet and I wonder whether I should go over and say hi.
I mean, I definitely should, right? Not now, obviously, I don’t want to cause a pre-take-off scene.
But when we’re at altitude and the seatbelts signs are off?
Bloody hell, how exciting! Maybe this is it.
Maybe this is Fate telling me it’s finally time to get back together with Hamish?