Chapter 2
Gavin
I wokeup this morning before the sun came up.
I ran two miles. I drank my morning smoothie. I got ready for my vacation.
I worked for the past seven years without a vacation. But I’ve moved up in the telecommunications business because of it. So, as soon as I handed in my resignation to my bosses at NightDrive, I scheduled a week long vacation for Tulum before I begin my new job at PulseTech in downtown San Diego.
I got to the airport and went through the motions until I arrived at the bar right across from my gate. I sat myself down next to a very attractive brunette and started a conversation with her, getting lost in her baby blue eyes.
However, as I ask her about where she’s going, she’s silent.
She looks at her drink, her forefinger running along the side, tracing a pattern through the condensation.
“How about we don’t.” She finally replies.
“We don’t, what?”
“We’re strangers, right?”
“Technically, I know your name. But pretty much.”
“So, then, why talk about plans and our lives? We’re at an airport. There are so many places that one can go. How about we figuratively leave it up in the air and always wonder?”
“Always wonder?”
“Yeah. You know, you’re sitting at home after work one night, and you think to yourself; ‘I wonder where that cute guy at the bar at the airport went off to?’”
“Wouldn’t that be annoying, never knowing?”
“The likelihood that we would meet again is like a.005% chance.”
“That’s an oddly specific number.” I shake my head. “But I can get with playing this. Why force small talk, right?”
“Right.”
“Cheers to that.” I hold my beer bottle up and she presses her glass against mine as she brings her glass to her red-stained lips.
I watch her tilt her head back and observe her. Her strong jawline, her ivory skin with pink cheeks. Her dark brown hair goes just below her shoulder, with a slight curl. No freckles, no imperfections. She is flawless. Yet, something tells me that’s not the case. No woman is flawless, because that’s what makes us human.
Our flaws. Not all flaws are made equal. Some are good and some are bad.
Like mine, I wouldn’t know where my flaws are, but I know that I have some. I know that I’m arrogant and that I act entitled from time to time. I work too hard and lose myself from time to time in my work. But I would say that my number one flaw is that I like to over share. With friends, with co-workers, and clearly with perfect strangers.
I want nothing more than to dive into the psychology of why this woman doesn’t want to say much on a personal level, but she has a point. It would be kinda cool to always wonder, but then again, it would be nerve-racking, especially if I wouldn’t be able to get her out of my head.
But I keep quiet. Despite my need to talk. I must respect what she’s asking. So, I take another pull of my beer.
“Well, what do two complete strangers at the airport talk about?” I ask.
“The weather.” She replies quickly.
“The stock market maybe.” I shrug.
“You don’t strike me as the stock market type of guy.”
“What type of guy do I strike you as?” I turn my body toward her, asking.
“I don’t want to be rude. I also don’t want to sound like I’m putting you in a box.”
“Oh, lay it on me.” I tap my chest.
“You look like you’re living off of your mom and dad’s money, in a home that they pay for, and you have a carousel of women in and out of your bed.” She takes a deep breath, and then her blue eyes meet mine and hold them.
I say nothing for a minute. Then I crack a smile to put her at ease.
“That would be me about ten years ago. Spot on about that. But no, there’s not a waitlist getting in my bed. I’m not a player. I have a real job and pay a mortgage. And the last thing that I have from my life about ten years ago, is the couch that my parents bought me, that currently sits in my garage.”
“I told you it would be me putting you in a box.”
“And I let you.”
“I judged you off of your looks.”
“Can I take a shot of you? For scientific purposes, of course.”
“Oh, this should be good. Yes, please.”
I take a moment and silently assess her. How far should I go?
“You don’t care about other people’s opinions of you. You have a good job managing people. This is your first trip in years and you’re looking to let loose. You don’t date because you don’t have time for the back and forth. You like to keep to yourself. And your favorite flavor is… mint.”
She smiles.
“Most of that is on point. But you’re wrong about a few things.”
“What things was I wrong about?”
“Oh, but what’s the fun of telling you those things?”
“We’re strangers. There’s nothing that is stopping you from divulging your whole story.”
“Is that what this was?” She tilts her head to the side.
“I honestly don’t know what this is, but I am enjoying it,” I admit.
“I have a feeling that you are a talker.” She says.
“When it’s important, yes. I’m good at observing, though.”
The beautiful Emilyand I departed ways. She went to her gate, and I continued to sit at the bar with one more drink. I hate flying and loathe it. However, to put myself in a position to get over my fear, I regularly fly. You would think that with as often as I do travel, that I wouldn’t mind. Except my knees are bouncing, and my heart is pounding as I wait to hear that the plane is boarding.
And as if I summoned it myself, the overhead speaker calls my gate and announces that it will begin boarding. I know that I have a few more moments and take measured sips of my beer before knocking the rest back. I stand, place a few bills on the counter, and head toward my gate next to the bar.
I scan the crowd that’s gathered. What kind of riffraff will I be dealing with on this flight?
And that’s when my scan stops. Midway in line stands Emily and my breath catches.
Is she traveling to Tulum as well?
We didn’t discuss our travel plans while sitting next to one another. This is an airport; people can venture to several places. And who would have thought that the very attractive woman that I sparked a conversation with was flying to the same place as me?
The line that she’s standing in moves and she walks down the runway to the plane. My section is called up for boarding and I get into my position.
The flight attendant scans my phone with my boarding ticket and I walk down toward the plane doors. Generally, I like to sit at the very back of the plane and allow others to be off of the plane without rushing. However, I see her placing her bag in the overhead compartment and taking a seat in the middle of the plane. She hasn’t seen me. She’s not paying too much attention to people walking past her or stopping to put their belongings away. But she glances up as soon as I stop in front of her.
I grin. She grins. And I notice there is no one sitting beside her.
“Is this seat taken?” I ask.