3. Sloane
SLOANE
Me:
I met the most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen with my own two eyes at the airport. God. fucking. DAMN.
I text my cousin the literal second River gets up to use the bathroom.
I’m actually wondering if he’s as comfortable with weed gummies as he said he is, because his eyes were a little hazy already.
My eyes dart back and forth between my phone and the direction of the bathroom as a hint of worry comes over me.
Delaney:
Oh shit, give me details!
Me:
First off, he’s on my flight.
Delaney:
Are you going to fuck him in the bathroom? A little mile high club action?
Me:
No, that only works on a private plane, hello?
I scrunch my nose in remembrance of the terrible sex I had with some prince’s nephew or cousin or something when their family flew my parents in for a photo shoot.
The plane was nothing short of gorgeous and the bathroom was the size of a football field but the sex was terrible.
Like truly awful. Which is when I quickly learned that men who were in any way affiliated with royalty often felt as if they didn’t have to do anything.
Like I should feel blessed and honored not to only be in theirs but their dick’s presence.
Delaney:
So what’s he like?
Me:
Well for one… he’s a bit older.
Delaney:
What’s a bit?
Me:
38
Delaney:
YEARS OLD?
Me:
I can hear you yelling from here.
Delaney:
Babe, that’s older than MY dad.
Me:
Well yeah, but your parents had you when they were like 12.
Delaney:
F off! My dad was 19 and my mom was 17.
Me:
Semantics, your parents are young.
Delaney:
Whatever, I’m not judging. It’s hot… ish. What’s his name?
Me:
River. And he is very hot.
Delaney:
Does he know how old YOU are?
Me:
Of course not, I told him I was twenty-one and starting my freshman year at Towson.
Delaney:
Well if you want to hang out with him, you should be able to keep the lie up for a while. Your car got here yesterday. Just meet him out or go to his place once you’re sure he’s not going to murder you. He’ll never know you’re about to start your senior year of high school and only nineteen.
I internally groan, remembering that my first order of business tomorrow is to go to the MVA to get officially licensed to drive here, and from what I’ve heard, it’s absolute hell. I look up just in time to see him walking toward me, and our airline is calling for boarding.
Me:
He’s back from the bathroom, and we are about to board. See you in a bit!
Delaney:
Okay, yay, safe travels!! Love you!
While I wasn’t excited about returning to public school in the States, I was thrilled to spend my senior year with my cousin.
While we are almost two years apart, we’ve always been more like sisters than cousins even when thousands of miles separated us.
Even while I was traveling with my parents, we remained close, talking as much as we could between letters when we were young to emails and video chats when we were young teenagers to texting and daily FaceTimes as we got older.
“Hey, we are about to board,” I say, standing up and pulling my backpack on. He nods, doing the same and reaching for his small carry-on suitcase.
It’s an airline that allows for open seating, but I’m wondering if River will opt to sit next to me or if he’s had enough.
I’ve been told on more than one occasion that I can be “a lot,” but it hasn’t inspired me to change myself, only to change their place in my life.
I scan my ticket to make my way onto the runway when I hear him a step behind me.
“You know you travel really light for someone coming from a completely different country.”
I giggle just as we make it to the plane. “I checked two massive suitcases, and I shipped a lot of things ahead to my aunt’s house.” I turn to tell him, and he nods in understanding.
The flight attendants at the front of the plane smile and nod, welcoming us onto the plane, and I begin to make my way down the aisle when he speaks up again.
“Where do you want to sit?”
Fuck yes. I internally cheer and smile to myself before I turn my head to speak over my shoulder. “Is the middle area okay with you?”
“Works for me.”
I find a row and slide into the window before looking up at him. “Oh, do you want to sit here instead, and I can take the middle seat?”
He puts his suitcase in the overhead compartment and slides in next to me.
“No, this is fine. This way, you don’t have to worry about some creepy guy sitting next to you trying to flirt with you the whole time.
” His brown eyes are warm and heating me all over with just a look, and I take another long second to study his gorgeous face.
He was seriously so stunningly handsome it was fucking distracting.
I meant what I said about not being able to focus if he were my teacher.
“Oh. But I don’t have to worry about you?”
“You do not find me creepy.” He smirks, and I can’t help the smile that finds my face as we both sit down.
“How are you feeling after the gummies?”
“Great.” He narrows his eyes at me in question. “Why do you ask?”
“Your eyes are just a little glazed, and you basically said you planned to flirt with me for the next hour and a half.”
He blinks his eyes a few times. “I did not.” He snorts before he scratches the scruff on his jaw, reminding me and my vagina that it’s one of my favorite sounds. “Did I?”
I giggle. “You’re funny.”
As if he’s having a moment of clarity, he responds, “Well, fuck. How strong were they?”
“What happened to if you can handle it, I can handle it?” I ask him mockingly.
“Well, I don’t do them every day.” He attempts to whisper, but it comes out a little louder than he thinks. “My tolerance isn’t what it used to be.”
I put my finger to my lips, signaling him to be quieter. “They were five milligrams each, so you’re probably starting to feel something.”
“You shhh,” he responds, and I roll my eyes just as a gray-haired woman who reminds me of my grandma sits next to River and gives us both a smile.
“Hi dears.” She smiles at us before pulling out knitting needles and what looks like will eventually be a little pink sweater.
I guess she can still feel my gaze because she turns her eyes to mine and looks at me from over the top of her round glasses.
“It’s for my granddaughter!” she says, holding up the half-knitted garment.
“How cute! How old is she?”
“She’ll be two this weekend. Do you two have children?” she asks, going back to her knitting.
“Oh… no.” I start. “We’re not—”
“Not yet?” She interrupts, while still not looking at us. “Oh, you have time, you’re still just little ones yourselves. I had seven,” she says, and my eyes widen, and I can almost feel my uterus shaking in protest.
“Wow, that’s… a lot.” I stammer as I try to conceptualize the thought of pushing seven children out of my body.
“Yeah, I could not get their father off me to save my life.” She pulls her eyes away from her knitting needles and smiles at us.
River lets out a laugh he tries to disguise as a cough, which actually makes him cough, and she taps his back gently.
“Oh, arms up, hon! It helps!” she tells him as she holds one of his arms up.
He grabs his water from the seat-back pocket and takes a sip, which I think helps more than the “arms up” advice, but I’m not too sure.
He turns to me and shakes his head. “I don’t think I want to have seven kids?” he says quietly.
“I definitely don’t,” I whisper back, shaking my head with wide, unblinking eyes.
“How many do you want to have?” He takes another sip of his water and clears his throat.
“Maybe three?” I shrug. “Four max.”
“I think that’s a good number.”
“Well, let’s hope our future partners agree.”
I don’t miss the way his eyes zone in on my mouth and then slowly trace the rest of my face.
And I allow myself one second to imagine what it would be like to have these three to four future children with the gorgeous man next to me, and the story that could potentially start tonight.
Once that second is up, I turn my gaze toward the window to force the hopeless romantic swooning over our meet-cute out of my head.
The plane must have finished boarding because the lights immediately dim as the flight attendants begin their pre-flight run-through.
But I somehow tune all of that out and turn my focus back to the man next to me staring at me so intensely, I feel slightly unnerved.
“I can’t stop staring at your eyes. They’re so big, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen eyes this shade of blue.”
I’ve heard that before, but hearing it from River’s mouth and, more importantly, that deep, growly voice does something to the space between my legs that I wasn’t expecting, and suddenly, Delaney’s idea about fucking him in the plane bathroom sounds like something I’d like to explore thoroughly.
“They’re so beautiful,” he adds. I bite my bottom lip, unsure of what to say that isn’t a very lame “thank you,” but before I can respond, he continues, “You are so beautiful.” He closes his eyes and turns away from me.
“Way too fucking young for me, though,” he whispers, and I frown immediately because, okay, fair, but fuck that.
The plane starts to move, and I tentatively reach for his hand, dragging my finger along his knuckles and the top of his hand. “Says who?”
Probably everyone in the world, especially if they knew my actual age.
Probably if he knew my actual age.
I shouldn’t push it. I should let him try to do the right thing and not put us in a situation where I have to lie to him, and he has to push aside whatever morals he’s grappling with. But I want to know what his lips feel like against mine. And I really want to know what he feels like inside me.
“Sloane…” He moves his hand, and I think he’s going to move it so I’ll stop touching him, but he flips it so his palm is facing up and clasps his hand with mine. “You know you are.”
“But… who would find out?” I squeeze his hand gently just as we begin to pick up speed. I move closer to him so my lips are less than an inch from his ear, and I feel my heart begin to accelerate as I wait for the words about to come out of my mouth. “No one has to know.”
He squeezes my hand as we ascend into the air.
The last of the sun goes down, cloaking the plane in almost complete darkness, except for the dim lights and those with their overhead lights on.
I notice that the older woman next to River is already asleep, and I turn slightly in my seat so that I’m facing him.
“Do you want to see me again after tonight?”
“Yeah,” he whispers. “I really do.”
“I am sensing a but…?”
“I am seventeen years older than you.” Nineteen. I correct myself in my mind and blanche at the thought of deceiving him about that. “I told myself no more women in their early twenties. We just want different things. The nights are fun, but I want more, and I know you don’t want what I want.”
“Three to four kids and a house in the suburbs?” I joke.
“You’re not ready for that, and hell, I don’t know if I am either.”
“Then how about we just have some fun in the meantime?” I trace my finger along his skin, barely grazing it with the tip of my nail along the lines of his tattoos. His eyes drop to my finger and then lazily move up to my eyes.
A tiny smile finds his face. “Don’t you want to have fun with someone your own age?” His voice is deep but raspier like fatigue is catching up with him, and I can tell he’s fading fast.
“Why should I? You clearly don’t.” I snort, crossing my arms over my chest.
“Yeah, but I’m trying to do better. You’re closer to my niece’s age, and apparently that makes me kind of a creep.” He rubs a hand over his face. “I’m not good for you, Sloane.” His eyes flutter closed, and just as we level off, I think he’s asleep.
Not wanting to give up on the idea that I’ll see this man again after tonight, I grab my backpack that I’d slid under the seat in front of me and pull out a notebook, ripping out a piece of paper.
If you ever change your mind
Xo, Sloane
I jot down my phone number and lean forward, sliding it into his backpack in front of him, hoping that when he finds it, he’ll change his mind.