Chapter 8
8
E zra
I hate clumsy people—they make life more complicated for everyone. And more than that, I hate people who think that the world needs to bend for them, and everyone around needs to adjust to their needs because they like to pretend how unfortunate and ‘cute’ (I nearly vomit at the word) they are.
So, when the beanie-wearing klutz drops her shit in front of the boarding line, making the old dude behind her nearly fall over her, naturally, it irritates me. Who the fuck wears a beanie in the airport when it’s warm outside? Idiots, that’s who. I grab the old man’s arm in time to steady him and rush past, annoyed that she’s on the same flight. I hope she’s on the very opposite side of it, so we don’t have to meet again. Ever.
“I don’t know if you should do this, Ezra,” my brother whines for the twentieth time for the past hour. “It’s a weird vibe out here. ”
“I don’t have a choice,” I hiss back, taking my seat and pulling on my tie, trying to loosen it a little. The plane is too hot for it.
“Yes, you do. We can figure something else out.”
“We can’t.” I turn to the side, trying to fit my bag under the seat while he sighs into my ear so loudly, I have to pull the phone away.
When I’m ready to yell at my brother to stop trying to convince me not to go forward with the deal, someone falls into the seat next to me. I’m in no mood for a chat, so I pull the divider up. I don’t want to see anyone. I don’t want to talk to anyone. I want a glass of whiskey and to go to fucking sleep.
“Ezra,” my brother starts again, but I stop him.
“I’m on the plane and need to shut off the phone.”
Without waiting for his reply, I hang up and bang the back of my head on the seat. How did my life turn into such a mess?
“Hello, sir,” a soft voice meant to entice says, bringing me out of my dark place. “Can I offer you a drink?”
I raise my gaze to find a beautiful, young flight attendant looking at me. Her white shirt has a few loose buttons on top, revealing her black bra, and her red-painted lips are curved with a suggestive smile. How do I know? I get tons of them. They just don’t know they’re wasted on me.
“Bourbon. Neat.”
“We don’t have bourbon,” she replies, sounding nervous. “I can offer you whiskey. We have a good one that might fit your taste?”
A loud snort makes me glance toward the sound with narrowed eyes, but the divider between us prevents me from killing whoever is there with mental daggers.
“Whiskey then.” I hope the disapproval is obvious in my voice—people pay well to be seated here. At least they deserve a good drink.
“Of course, sir. Be right back.” She hurries away with a slight nod, leaving me with another snort through the barrier between us.
I’m very tempted to press the button and slide the damn thing down just so I can see who the fuck is there with such a loud opinion. But I pride myself on my ability to keep cool. So I take a long, controlled breath and return to my phone to check on emails.
I have a few from Martin with more information about the board. I get another denial from the city about reinstating the building. Again. And tons of angry emails I’m not going to even open. I’ll let Martin sort it out.
I reply to his emails and ask him to file another permit request with the city while drinking the whiskey the flight attendant brought. Silently. Her smile disappears after she sees my face. Good. I’m not here for pleasure; I’m here for a business deal. The faster and smoother it goes, the faster we all can move on with our lives.
After the food and another round of whiskey, I put my earpods in and play music. This is one of the very few things that still works for me as relaxation.
Soon, I get a pleasant buzz and fall asleep…
Only to be awakened by a loud clatter and a body falling onto me.
“Shit,” the person hisses as they are trying to stand up. Pressing their hand into my groin in the process.
I groan and try to remove the person from me.
“Sorry!” A female voice.
The female voice I know. The one that has been bugging me for the last few months.
Mae .
Here. On the same plane. On my lap.
My eyes instantly fly open, free of any residual sleep.
“You,” I say as I pull her closer.
“Oh.” Her eyes go round.
How the hell didn’t I notice her before? I mean, she’s hard to miss with her pink hair. How? Oh, wait. She was wearing that stupid beanie on her head and giant clothes ten-sizes too big. The little shit who escaped the hospital before I could talk to her. Before she knew the fire wasn’t her fault.
I felt relaxed and content with my fate before I fell asleep. But she’s just awoken another wave of rage at the board, my father, and her.
She’s frozen on top of me while the plane shakes once again, and her body plasters over mine.
“Crap,” she mumbles, trying to push herself away. It’s useless, and she ends up kneeing me in the balls.
I groan again.
“Oh, man.” She covers her face with her hands, loses balance, and her head falls forward with her stubborn forehead smashing into my nose. She quickly pushes back and looks at me with her dangerously widened eyes. If she opens them a little more, they’ll fall out of her skull. “I’m sorry,” she whispers, biting her lip.
I squeeze the bridge of my nose between my fingers, trying to stop tears from forming. The plane shakes again, and she tries to pull herself away from me. Only to end up with her knee dangerously close to the same part it’s already touched.
I grab her shoulders with both my hands and order, “Don’t fucking move.”
Another rattle of the plane makes her eyes go wide, and she surges forward, burying her face on my chest.
“We’re going to die,” she cries out, her voice muffled .
“We’re not going to die. But you will because I will kill you if you don’t remove your knee from my dick.”
“Oh!” she cries out, trying to scatter away.
At this point, I know it’s useless. We’ve entered some serious turbulence, and the whole plane is rattling so violently even I get an unexpected ping of fear. The dividers between the seats go down with a loud thud throughout the whole area.
“Where’s your seat?”
She points at the next seat while her face is still pressed into me. She’s been next to me this whole time, and I didn’t even know. I assess the situation and see if I can move her somehow to her spot, but I’m buckled up in a horizontal position.
The plane keeps shaking; people are getting anxious and scared. The girl keeps clinging onto me, and I can’t just throw her away to her seat while she’s scared out of her mind. Her fingers are digging into my shoulders while her thighs move to my sides and squeeze me. Hard. Very hard. I didn’t know she had so much power in that body of hers.
“We’re going to die,” she starts mumbling without even realizing it, I think. “And I’ll never adopt a dog. Or a cat.” She sniffles and starts crying. “I’ll never try pineapple-ham pizza. I’ll never get to say sorry to my sister.” She presses her nose into my chest. “I’ll never even know what a not-self-induced orgasm is. Or how the Wi-Fi really works.” Her words nearly disappear into the crying.
That’s some list over there. I would laugh at it if not for the self-induced orgasm part. How old is she? I try to actually look at her, but she’s firmly pressed into me while mumbling the things she’ll never be able to do. The things she wants to try. The places to see. While my mind is fixed on the damn orgasms. Not even once?
In the meantime, the captain is making an announcement about some ‘possible rough air.’ No shit. The air is rough. Things are flying around. People are crying. The girl keeps clutching to me.
And during all this fucking chaos, the only thing I can think about is her nonexistent orgasms.