Chapter 32 Jonathan
Jonathan
Prove it. I can’t believe those were the last words to come out of my mouth. What am I? Sixteen years old, storming off after drama club rehearsal?
I shake my head, like maybe the motion will dislodge the weight of embarrassment pressing down on me.
My suitcase bumps along behind me, wheels catching on the floor like even it doesn’t want to go.
The damn thing is resisting the airport tiles like it knows I’m making a mistake.
I can still feel her behind me, the ghost of her presence tugging at my spine.
AJ, standing there, stunned. Probably still staring.
I should turn around. I should look at her.
Say the thing I actually want to say… that I love her too.
That I’m sorry. That we can figure this out.
But instead, I keep walking toward the gate.
Toward my plane. Toward the shiny new future I’ve mapped out in Boston.
It’s uncomplicated and full of unfamiliar faces who don’t know anything about fake dating or falling for someone when you’re supposed to be keeping things strictly professional.
This is what’s best for me. That’s what my head is telling me. Screaming, evidently.
Still, I pause. I glance back and tell myself it’s just one last look. Just a final glimpse at the girl who ruined me, good and bad, in a matter of days. The girl who kissed me like she meant it and then left me standing in the wreckage of my own resolve.
But she’s not there. The space she occupied only moments ago is empty.
Gone. No more AJ looking at me like I’m the last thing she wants to lose.
No more wide eyes or apology trembling on her lips.
She left. I mean duh. Because I told her to prove it.
Instead of grabbing her ridiculous little cheeks and kissing the hell out of her like I wanted to, I tossed out a one-liner, wannabe mic drop and walked away like a jackass.
I close my eyes for a second, exhale slow and run a hand through my hair. I’m a fucking idiot.
My internal rant doesn’t get far before I hear music playing behind me. It’s faint at first, just a few notes that float through the airport like background noise until I register the melody. It’s familiar, way too familiar.
I whip around so fast I nearly give myself whiplash. The terminal is buzzing with people dragging suitcases, announcements echoing through overhead speakers, families arguing over boarding groups but all of that fades as I scan for the source.
And then I see her. AJ is in the elevated customer service booth perched above the Delta ticketing counters, a glass-walled cubicle typically used for announcements and airline supervisor calls.
She’s holding her phone up to the small PA microphone, feeding the music straight into the terminal speakers.
She looks… calm yet determined. A little deranged in the most AJ kind of way.
The song she’s feeding through the sound system? “Hopelessly Devoted to You” by Olivia Newton-John.
My mouth drops open as the intro plays, soft and theatrical, reverberating through the high ceilings of JFK.
It’s the exact song I told her, only half-seriously I might add, was the type of dramatic declaration I dreamed someone would make if they were ever hopelessly in love with me. Clearly, she took that very literally.
I take a few steps closer to the booth, my feet moving before my brain catches up. I can’t even pretend to act cool, I’m too busy staring at her like I’ve never seen anything like this in my life.
Then she starts singing. The first words are about her having pure heartbreak.
The mic trembles slightly in her hand, but her voice is not half bad, actually. Not great either. Let’s just say it’s passionate and loud. Mostly off-key in that one spot.
I chuckle, stunned, as people stop to stare. Phones come out. A little girl claps. One TSA agent looks like she’s about to blow a whistle, then hesitates, probably wondering if this counts as a threat or just the most chaotic declaration of love she’s seen on a Tuesday morning.
AJ powers through the second verse with eyes locked on me. Not blinking. Not backing down. She’s singing about knowing she’s not the only one who’s been through this, about how there’s no getting over me.
A janitor leans on his mop like this is better than any reality show. A woman in a pantsuit whispers, “Is this real?” to her husband, who replies with an impressed, “I hope so.”
I just stand there, heart slamming in my chest, trying to figure out how this became my life.
How this woman, this fiery, infuriating, completely unpredictable woman, somehow crawled under my skin and lodged herself there so permanently that my only reaction to this entire insane spectacle is…
awe. She’s singing a Grease ballad to me from a restricted airport tower and all I can think is how cute she is.
Airport staff are scrambling below the tower like ants in a panic.
One security guard gestures frantically to another, who’s jabbing buttons on a walkie-talkie.
None of them can get to her though. The narrow staircase to the glass observation booth, usually reserved for flight coordinators, is sealed.
She’s locked herself in. Of course she has.
AJ stands tall behind the wide glass panel, one arm holding the mic, the other clutching her phone like it’s her lifeline and just when I think it couldn’t get any more absurd, she continues to sing.
Her voice wavers slightly, but not from fear—from conviction—as she declares she’s the fool who’s still here, waiting for me, because there’s nothing else she can do.
She lifts her finger dramatically and points it straight at me through the window.
Like she’s casting a spell or delivering a final mic drop.
Passengers around me gasp and giggle and start to cheer and somehow, despite the fact that she’s standing in an off-limits airport control booth serenading me with Olivia Newton-John, I’ve never loved her more.
I shake my head and drag a hand over my face, caught somewhere between secondhand embarrassment and total admiration.
A few people around me are already looking, connecting the dots.
Yeah, I’m the guy she’s singing to. Heat rushes up my neck and settles in my cheeks.
Great. I’m actually blushing. My palms are sweating now, but not out of anxiety, out of joy.
That ridiculous, overwhelming kind of joy you feel when someone does something so unexpected, so unhinged and so exquisitely them that your heart can’t help but swell.
AJ is up there, clearly having lost her mind, singing completely off-key by the way but doing it for me. Me, of all people.
And… here comes the chorus.
She’s singing about how there’s nowhere left to hide, how her love’s been pushed aside, and how she’s out of her head and completely, hopelessly devoted to me.
She belts it out and despite the microphone crackling under her enthusiasm, I hear it, her smile. That sexy, crooked little grin bleeding through the words. Damn, I missed that stupid smile.
I walk closer until I’m practically touching the tower, just in time for her to hit one final, dramatic line—a breathless promise that she’s hopelessly devoted to me.
She lets the last word hang in the air, out of breath and flushed, her chest rising and falling. Then she glances down and yells to airport security, “Okay. I’m coming down!”
The music shuts off and her phone disappears into her back pocket. She turns, climbs carefully down the narrow stairs and unlocks the door.
Airport security is there, looking like they’re ready to detain someone twice her size and ten times more dangerous. One cop grabs her arm gently but firmly. She holds up her hands and says, “I’m fine, I’m fine,” still catching her breath.
I jog forward. “Where are you taking her?” I ask, stepping between them.
The officer eyes me. “Why? Is she with you?”
I don’t even hesitate. I nod. “Yeah. She’s with me.”
He lets go and that’s when I do the one thing you’re absolutely not supposed to do when you’re surrounded by police and security guards seconds from tackling you into oblivion.
I walk straight up to her, cup her face in both hands and kiss her.
So hard. So passionately. Like I’ve been waiting my entire life for this exact moment.
She kisses me back with enough force it knocks me a tad off balance.
Then she wraps her arms around my neck, laughing into my mouth and I lift her off the ground.
She squeals, kissing me again as the crowd around us erupts into applause and cheers.
A few people whistle. It’s insane. It’s completely absurd.
And it’s the best moment of my entire life.
“All right, all right. You’re both coming with us,” the cop barks, grabbing both of our arms now, less gentle than before.
We break apart, still breathless from the kiss and follow him as the sound of the cheering crowd fades behind us.
The deeper we go into the back corridors of the airport, the more it feels like stepping into another world, one most travelers never see.
I’ve flown plenty of times in my life, but I’ve never had the privilege of being escorted through the restricted doors by someone with a badge and a bad attitude.
AJ walks beside me, her elbow brushing mine and glances up with a grin. I can’t help but wink at her. She’s radiant even under fluorescent lighting.
“Jonathan,” she whispers. “I’m so sorry.”
“I know, me too,” I say, looking at her, keeping my voice low.
“No talking,” the officer snaps without turning around. We both bite back a laugh like two misbehaving kids sent to the principal’s office.