Chapter 9
Nikita
As we sit by our gate at the airport, a voice speaks over the intercom, “Attention passengers, we are now inviting all passengers seated in Zone D to begin boarding. Please have your boarding passes and identification ready. Thank you.”
Calvin interrupts my scrolling by getting up to his feet, “Up.”
I look up at him but remain seated. “Excuse me?”
“They called us. We’re in Zone D.”
People continue to form a line leading to the boarding gate where their boarding passes are being scanned. “I’m aware, but do you see all those people in line? We have to wait for them to board.”
“If we’re in the line, we’ll be one of those people.”
“Wouldn’t you rather wait while you’re seated and comfortable?” Gesturing to the couch I am on.
“They have a system in place, Nikita. Zone by zone, people are supposed to board the plane.” There is a mix of frustration and confusion etched onto his face. “Why am I explaining this to you? I thought you were a flight attendant?”
“I am a flight attendant.” I tsk. “Which is exactly why I know that they don’t leave anyone behind. Hell, you could even be the last person to board.”
He scoffs. “Absolutely not.”
Shaking my head, I lean against the back of the couch, reiterating my stance. “Of course, you’re that guy.” He holds his leather travel bag by the handles in his hand. Looking at the way he is dressed, with a neatly buttoned-up shirt, that is tucked into his well-fitted chino pants, as if he is attending a meeting at some sophisticated golf club rather than getting on a twelve-hour flight, should have been the first giveaway that Calvin will have this obsessive need to follow the rules.
“Suit yourself.”
“You’re going to stand around in line for the next fifteen minutes or so.”
“I will see you on the plane.”
I gape at him. “Are you seriously going to leave me here alone?”
He rolls his eyes, removing his glasses and placing them back into the box that he had in his other hand. “You’re a big girl.”
“Boyfriend of the year,” I mutter and fold my arms across my chest, watching as he nods toward me before joining the line. I watch as he goes to find a spot at the back. Wait a minute - why does he actually look good and why can I still smell him from here? That damn cologne of his. Always making itself known to whoever is in the vicinity.
I click my tongue in annoyance and return to scrolling on my phone, pretending that my attention isn’t flickering between my peripherals and the screen in front of me. It is about ten minutes before Calvin boards and only an additional fifteen minutes later, I step on the plane along with a couple of the last passengers.
I shuffle down the aisle making my way to my seat pulling my bag behind me. I can already see Calvin further down the plane, his height forcing him higher than the average person in the seat and I swear the gel he has holding his hair together glimmers under the light.
He doesn’t look up from the book in his lap as I stop by our seats. He is sitting in the middle seat - wait, the middle seat? There are very few people who don’t have the window seat as their preference.
I drop the handle of my trolley hand luggage, sizing it to fit in the overhead bin by our seat. I glance up to make sure that I have enough space, but lo and behold, there isn’t an inch available for my bag. An irritation that I had seen almost every single shift from at least one passenger was now something I am feeling. I huff and glance on either side of me, trying to find space for my bag.
“Having some trouble?” Calvin asks, closing his book with his hand in between the pages, keeping his place.
“Nope.” I refuse to make eye contact with him.
“Really? Because it seems like there isn’t any space for your bag.”
This time I turn to him, unimpressed with his continuous talking. “Nothing I can’t handle.”
He rests a finger against his chin, pretending he is deep in thought. “It looks like there are some perks to being one of the first passengers on the plane.”
I send him a disdainful look as the sarcasm drips from my words, “Ooh, space in your overhead bin. What a perk.”
“May I take that for you, Miss?” One of the younger male attendants appears next to me, gesturing behind him. “There’s some space back there for this.”
A smile forms on my lips. “Thank you, that would be great…” I glance down at his name tag, “Christopher.”
He smiles back at me, a boyish grin on his face. “You’re most welcome.”
Calvin looks unimpressed with how that has played out which only brings me great satisfaction. I duck underneath the overhead bins, not that I have to do too much of that since I barely graze the top of it with my head. “Move.” I gesture for him to move over to the window seat.
He glances at it before looking back at me again, “I’m perfectly happy where I am, thank you.”
“Then at least move so I can get to that seat.” He barely shifts his legs to the side but remains seated as I am forced into our seats as another passenger passes in the aisle.
“Are you really not going to move?” I seethe.
“I’ve already gotten myself comfortable.” He lifts his book in one hand and the complimentary pillow in another. He looks anything but comfortable, but he is insanely stubborn and I know this is still about me not boarding earlier.
What a man-child.
If that is how he wants to play it, then I will do the same. I will not give him the satisfaction of knowing how much he is getting under my skin right now. I plaster a fake smile on my face and turn my body to face the seat, sliding myself across his legs to get to the window seat. He glances up at me, his bottom lip between his teeth as he looks to be holding back a smile.
“You’re a real child, you know that?” I mutter in a lower voice as I get past him and drop onto my seat, making sure to bump him with my handbag before shoving it in front of me as I try to make myself comfortable.
He mutters something under his breath before returning to his reading, his book leaning against his leg that is lifted with his ankle resting on the other. I purposefully make my movements bigger than they need to be to make sure I bother his personal space.
I, too, was a child. This includes me resting my arm on the shared armrest between us, forcing him to move his off. “This is a shared armrest,” he comments, “Are you unfamiliar with that concept?”
I roll my eyes and clasp my seat belt across my body. “You’re going to have to start being much nicer to your girlfriend.”
“As long as we’re on American soil, you are still very much not my girlfriend.”
“What a gentleman,” I respond sarcastically.
He sighs and shuts his book, turning to face me. “Right now, you and I - we’re not friends, barely even acquaintances but when we arrive in Europe, we will play the roles of inseparable boyfriend and girlfriend to perfection.”
My eyebrows furrow. “When did we get that description?”
“Right now.” He leans closer, clearly not wanting anyone to hear our conversation. “If you want to change your mind, now is your last chance. You can stand up, get off this aircraft and I won’t hold it against you.”
As I think about it for a moment, my eyes lock on his and I weigh out my desperate need for an escape against the increasing frustration from his mere presence.
In the end, it is the free cocktails and catching a tan that wins.
“I’m not leaving.”
“Fine.”
He leans forward and places his book in the netting in front of him that is holding some in-flight magazines. He shifts in his seat as I extend my legs as far as I can beneath the chair in front of me, trying to get comfortable. I find my sweet spot, but apparently, Calvin is still struggling to find his since he keeps moving every five seconds.
“Why are you moving so much?” I ask in a hushed tone that does not mask my annoyance.
He begins to pat down his pockets, glancing at me. “I’m not.”
“Oh, must be my vibrator then,” I mutter sarcastically.
He tosses a look my way as the flight attendants come to the end of their pre-flight safety routine, a routine I know like the back of my hand.
“Ladies and gentlemen, good evening, and welcome aboard Velocity Wings, flight 2532 to Lisbon, Portugal.” The pilot’s voice flows through the speakers of the plane. My stomach turns the way it always does as we approach take-off. One would think that I am used to that feeling, but not even after five years of being a flight attendant has it changed. I am still just as nervous as the flight before.
The announcement continues, “-appreciate you choosing to fly with us.”
Calvin shifts again, this time leaning forward to look through his bag in front of him.
“What are you looking for?”
He looks at me, closing his bag and sitting back against his chair again. “Nothing.”
“-all electronic devices are turned off or switched to airplane mode.”
I turn my phone to airplane mode and lock it, dropping it on my lap as I focus my attention through the window. Glancing at the wing of the plane the sun disappears behind the airport in the distance.
I think back to the last time I visited Portugal. Six years ago, I spent three weeks in the different areas of Algarve for my birthday with some friends - Albufeira, Lagos, Villamoura - and I loved every moment of it. During the day, you were caught up in the serene atmosphere using the time to soak in the sun and nap on the beach and by the time it was nightfall, something that only happened well after ten, the towns came alive and before you knew it, you had spent the entire night out until the sun greeted you again. There was a calmness in the air there that was easy to be consumed by. It is a feeling I have longed to experience again, and now is the perfect time to seek that. Between the disappointment of losing my job and the sheer agony of having my apartment destroyed, I can do with a little bit of calm.
“-we will be dimming the cabin lights for takeoff. If you need additional reading light-…”
I take a deep breath in and turn my gaze forward before exhaling as I attempt to calm my nerves. Calvin has not moved and when I glance over at him, he now sits upright, with either hand resting on the respective knee while his eyes are closed. He takes a deep breath in through his nose and out through his mouth.
I lean closer, bringing my voice to a whisper, “Are you… meditating?”
He opens one of his eyes to glance at me. “No.”
“It looked like you were.”
He closes his eyes again and returns to the structured breathing, looking somewhat unnerved.
“-hope you have a pleasant flight. Sit back, relax, and enjoy your-…”
Calvin’s leg is bobbing up and down. The structured breathing, the fidgeting, the inability to remain still - and then it clicks.
“Wait, are you scared of flying?”
“Would you keep your voice down?” Both his eyes fly open and he turns to me. “And no, I am not scared of flying,” His defensive tone tells me that I hit the nail on the head with this theory.
“Are you sure? Cause you look scared.”
I tug at the inside of my bottom lip as I watch his jaw clench. The frustration on his face is clear as day. I have to try and keep myself from laughing, but I am enjoying this too much. He truly is one of the easiest people to piss off.
“Nikita.” His voice is full of warning, but all I hear is to continue.
“Do you want to hold my hand?” I open my hand and extend it to him, my palm facing up, “Just give it a squeeze when you’re afraid.”
“I’m fine.”
I drop my hand and reach for my phone, unlocking my Kindle app. “Suit yourself.” I manage about five minutes of reading before I feel the plane move, taking off across the runway. The feeling of my heart rate accelerates as the roaring of the engine becomes more intense as the plane gains speed.
Glancing at Calvin from the corner of my eye, there seems to be a genuine fear oozing off him, something I hadn’t expected, and honestly I feel bad for teasing him.
He starts to tense as we all feel the gentle push into our seats as the aircraft picks up speed. That drop in my stomach follows shortly after that, making me feel sick.
Without thinking, my hand moves from my lap and reaches over, taking his hand in mine. I feel his eyes on me but I keep my gaze down on the book I have yet to attempt to read.
“Don’t,” I warn.
The mechanical sound of the landing gear retraction surrounds us as we ascend into the air.
His hand squeezes mine, the warmth of it spreading against my skin. “I suppose we should practice.”