Chapter 5
FIVE
GREGG
JFK - LHR
I absentmindedly scan my boarding pass when I pass the podium, and start down the jetbridge, but my mind is kilometres away.
What on earth happened back there, I ask myself.
What are the odds that I cause a stranger to spill their coffee, and instead of frustration, I get…
him. His hazel eyes, his smile. Damn, that smile… God, why didn’t I ask for his number?
Cameron’s embarrassed smile plays in a loop through my mind as I continue toward the plane. I barely register the uneven floor, the not-so-faint scent of jet fuel, and the constant hum of the ventilation system. It was just coffee. Only an accident.
But it wasn’t, was it? It felt… electric.
There was something in the way he blushed when I gently teased him, the way he stammered through an apology.
For once, I'm not thinking about expectations or business proposals or any other preoccupations that usually clutter my mind. They all suddenly seem so trivial.
When I step onto the aircraft and into the Business Class cabin, I let the atmosphere of soft music, warm golden lighting, deep navy and cream accents wash over me.
I lift my bag into the overhead locker then slide into my seat, a home away from home and a cocoon of comfort.
And yet, the only idea I can truly focus on is Cameron.
A flight attendant with auburn hair styled in a perfect French twist, bright red lipstick completing the look, appears at my side with a tray of champagne flutes and menus.
“Good evening, Mr. Harwell,” she greets as she glances quickly at the tray.
Surely she must have all the passengers’ names readily available to her. “How are you today?”
“I’m well, thank you. Yourself?”
“I’m absolutely fantastic, thank you for asking. May I offer you a glass of champagne while you settle in?”
“Yes, cheers,” I say, though my voice feels incredibly distant, still tangled in my thoughts. She sets the flute on the small table beside me with natural grace.
“Will you be dining this evening?” she asks, offering me a menu.
I nod politely and take it, thumbing through it with hidden indifference.
“The Purser will be by shortly to take your order and introduce themselves, but please let us know if you need anything in the meantime.”
She walks away, and my eyes drift to the champagne, its bubbles rising lazily to the surface. The Purser.
Could it be? No. No, surely not. Don’t be ridiculous. The world isn’t that small. But what if it is? Could fate be giving me another chance to… to do what exactly? He’s probably already forgotten me completely.
I shake my head and take a sip. The crispness cut straight through my nerves.
I try not to hope, damn, I really do. But the thought of seeing Cameron again, someone who was technically still a stranger.
No, they were definitely strangers. The thought made my pulse stumble, and I find myself praying that this wouldn’t be just another trip across the Atlantic.
Enough of this. I get up and head toward the lavatory at the front of the cabin.
Better to go now than be in the crew’s way later, I tell myself.
When I step into the galley, the auburn-haired flight attendant is pouring more champagne while another arranged linens and hot towels. Her name bar catches my eye. Riley.
“May I help you with anything?” she asks, glancing up from the tray of flutes.
“Oh, no thanks. Just looking for the lavatory.”
“It’s just behind you, sir. It’s occupied right now but you're welcome to wait.”
So I do, and the two flight attendants step into the aisle moments later, leaving me alone in the galley with my thoughts. What are the chances he’s on this flight? Slim to none. You're obsessing, lad. Quit it. He’s just someone you ran into. Literally.
The lock clicks and the lavatory door opens.
Cameron emerges out, fumbling with a suitcase and adjusting the hem of a smart looking uniform sweater. He smooths the fabric down and runs a hand through his beautiful light brown hair. His eyes find mine and they go wide, suddenly the world indeed feels very, very small.
“Gregg!” Cameron exclaims with equal parts shock and surprise. “What are you doing here?”
“Oh, I was in the neighbourhood and thought about going home to London.” I can’t help but laugh as I gesture to his freshly changed uniform. “Having a quick wardrobe change?”
He looks down with a groan and a smile. “Yeah, I spilled coffee all over myself.” He charades as if I wasn’t keen on what transpired. Softly, almost shy, he adds, “I didn’t know you were on this flight. I mean, I guess I could’ve put two and two together, but—where are you seated?”
“Well, you didn't ask.” I wink. “But I am just as surprised as you. I’m in 5A.” A grin pulls at my lips. “I guess fate isn’t quite finished with us yet.”
Cameron folds his arms and offers a look that is equally skeptical and amused. “Fate? You don’t think that you're giving a coffee spill far too much credit?”
“I don’t know about that,” I tease, letting the glint in my eyes do most of the talking. “It certainly benefited me… I get a second chance to properly introduce myself.”
He raises an eyebrow and smiles, protesting a laugh. “And here I thought you already had everything figured out. My name, my job, my language skills.”
“A good guess or two.” I put on my best mock-serious expression. “But I think I’d like to learn more.”
There it is. That faint blush in his cheeks. The way he looks away to collect himself, trying to layer professionalism over something else. “Well, Mr. Harwell,” he says when he turns back, clearing his throat like he needs grounding. “Is there anything I can get you before we take off?”
I lean in slightly, not enough to overstep, just enough so he knew I meant it. “You can start by calling me Gregg. And… maybe don’t be in such a rush to run off.”
That, I guarantee, he wasn't expecting. I can see the instinctive retreat in his posture, the professional resolve pulling tight, but then it loosens. It loosens just enough, because something held him there with me.
“Alright… Gregg.” His tone is soft. “I’ll be back shortly to take your meal preference.”
“I’ll hold you to that,” I say, and I give him a deep smile.
“Plus…” Cameron nods, stepping past me. I can feel his energy. “It’s a long flight, and I can’t run off anywhere.”
I slip into the lavatory, my heart beating a little too quickly for my reasonable self.
When I reemerge from the lavatory, I’m able to take another look at Cameron as he reaches into a compartment above one of the galley ovens.
But before I can linger too long, the auburn-haired flight attendant catches me.
What was her name? Riley? Yes, that’s it.
She grins as her gaze bounced between the two of us before ultimately landing on me, picking up whatever look I’d been giving him.
“Cameron,” she announces, full of faux innocence, mischief playing in her eyes. “Did you get a chance to meet Mr. Harwell in 5A?”
He spins around, trying and failing not to look thrown by her tone of voice. “Yes, actually. I met Gregg just a moment ago while you were in the aisle.”
“Uh-huh.” She folds her arms and smirks. “And you’re already on a first-name basis?”
“Well, coffee played a pivotal role in our introductions,” I cut in before Cameron has a chance to combust. “I wasn’t watching where I was going and, unfortunately, I accidentally ruined your coworker’s uniform.”
Riley raises her eyebrows and lifts her chin slowly, savoring the opportunity to stir the pot. I can practically see the gears turning, but she also seems to know exactly how far she can push.
“Well,” Cameron counters, “it was actually my fault, since I was the one on my phone.”
“Mhm, sure.” She pokes, watching us volley excuses like she was spectating a match at Wimbledon. “I’m just saying, for someone you ‘accidentally’ bumped into, there seems to be a lot of… lingering.”
I lift an eyebrow, entertained, but choose to remain quiet. Instead, I watch the two of them bounce off each other like a show.
Cameron exhales sharply and eyes her. “Don’t you have galley inventory to finish?”
“Fine, fine.” She raises her hands in defeat. “I’ll leave you to your… whatever this is.” She gestured vaguely yet dramatically between us.
When I sit back down at my seat, I pull out my phone, relieved to find a message waiting from my best mate, Julian.
JE: Hey mate! U back in London soon? I need to have some fun. I was thinking Velvet Noir? U in?
I lean back, replaying the three encounters I’ve had thus far with Cameron. Three. Three encounters with that beautiful man on one flight. That had to mean something. I stare at Julian’s message for a moment before typing back.
GH: Yeah. Just got on the plane. Land in the AM from NYC. What’s the plan?
GH: And what are you doing awake?
JE: Usual scene I think. Drinks, music, the overpriced but worth it VIP booth. U know the drill. Come blow off some steam!
JE: Can’t sleep… I miss my best mate <3
I smile and shake my head. Then an idea formed, albeit a rough one.
GH: Sounds good! U think there’s room for a few extras?
JE: Who u bringing? Business suits or more fun?
My fingers freeze over the screen for a beat.
GH: Not sure yet… but keep it flexible.
JE: Fine, but no corporate vibes.
GH: Noted. I’ll text u tomorrow!
I set my phone down and let my eyes drift back to Cameron, who has emerged from the galley.
He moves through the cabin with effortless and professional ease, but every so often, his eyes flicker toward me like he knew I was watching.
I wonder if I’d have the nerve to ask him, to even suggest it.
To see where this thing, this weird, electric, and immediate thing may go off the plane.
I pick up my glass of champagne and I catch his gaze, and decide to give him a slow, deliberate wink just before I threw it back in one swallow. And I can swear he smiles.