3. Saylor
Saylor
I locate my seat on the plane, opening up the luggage compartment just above my head so I can place my bags inside.
And then I get comfortable in my chosen window seat, folding down the table in front of me so I can get to work on my book.
A nine-hour flight awaits me.
And I’m going to make the most of it while I can.
It took me three trains, one Underground journey, and far too much panicking at Heathrow to finally make it to this seat.
After checking in, I wandered duty-free in a daze before finding my gate, terrified I'd somehow boarded the wrong flight despite checking my boarding pass at least twenty times.
This first flight will take me across the Atlantic before I catch my connecting flight.
I've never had to change planes before, but Nicola assured me the connection would be straightforward.
Still, I can’t believe this is happening... I’m flying halfway across the world because somebody believed in one of my books.
Now, I am America-bound. My skin is red as I can’t stop pinching my arm.
My tablet is fully charged, so I’m going to burn the time away by getting some words down.
Now, my mind goes back to all the overtime I did to be able to afford this trip, all the nights slaving away and writing between shifts at the restaurant.
Hard work really does pay off in the end.
My life is finally falling into place.
I glance out of the tiny oval window while the baggage handlers finish loading the last of the luggage beneath us.
Soon my book will be on shelves, right next to Noelle’s and Daisy’s, and I bite my lip in anticipation, typing away.
This trip will be a life-changing experience. If my life were a book, this would be a brand-new chapter with fancy drop caps.
The other passengers are boarding the plane, but I drown them out, getting lost in my story.
It’s not until I see a flash of white blonde hair in the corner of my eye that I finally look up. I spy the broad arms, the lazy swagger when he walks, and the way he casually slings his backpack over his shoulder.
It takes my mind a while to process what—no, who—I am seeing, and then I swallow hard, staring at the Alpha who rejected me ten years ago.
River Rose.
What is he doing here?
No, it can’t be him. I’m sure it’s just some other blond Alpha who looks just like him as he makes his way down the aisle, gazing down at his plane ticket as he searches for his seat.
Nicola was right.
It really is a small world.
Please don’t sit next to me.
When he stops just outside my row of seats, I hide my face behind my long, black hair, pretending to work on my manuscript.
Why me? Of all the seats on this plane, he just had to pick a seat right next to me.
Stupid fate. She really is a bitch.
Yet lucky for me, he doesn’t even bother to look my way as he opens up the compartment above, stuffing his bag inside.
And then he takes his seat.
The poor guy barely has any leg room in economy class, while my tiny Omega legs have a lot of space.
I can even fold them beneath me comfortably.
Soon, everyone takes their seats, but I just sit there having a mini existential crisis.
Why is he even here in London? I thought he moved back to the States with his brothers.
That’s when it hits me.
How could I have forgotten? Daisy is from the same town as Noelle Wynter-Hale, the same town where the retreat takes place, and just my freaking luck.
Of course River would be boarding a flight to Vermont and fuck my life.
He lives there, after all.
Maybe he’s just visiting Daisy. Maybe we will part ways after our connecting flight and never see each other again.
I cling to every ridiculous possibility, even though deep down I already know better.
Fate has always had a cruel sense of humor where Pack Rose is concerned.
What do I say? Should I tell him what has been on my mind these last ten years?
Suddenly, I see him standing over me again. We’re both eighteen as his eyes glow menacingly, his teeth bared in anger. “You think you’re the first girl to confess their feelings to us since she died? How fucking dare you…”
The way he just rejected me... I was not trying to take the place of Emma, God rest her soul. I would never wish to do that.
Honestly? I would have just been happy to have been acknowledged by them, that they recognized me as their scent match.
But who am I kidding?
I write enough romance to know how those kinds of stories go. So, I know that acknowledgement would never have been enough.
Because my Omega would always want more from them. She would be forever tormented and heartbroken, knowing that she was never their first choice.
That they loved a dead girl above her.
Soon, the flight takes off as I close my eyes, bracing myself.
It just so happens that I need the toilet in that exact moment. But the seatbelt signs are still on.
I always need to pee when I’m nervous.
The cabin settles into that strange silence that always follows after take-off, broken only by the constant drone of the engine.
Around me, people pull out headphones, books, and blankets, settling in for the long journey ahead.
I peer sideways at the gorgeous Alpha.
Still handsome, I see.
Ugh, this was supposed to be a happy writing retreat, yet the past just had to rear its head.
River looks just like a fallen angel as he has his eyes closed, pods in his ears as he listens to music.
No one claimed the middle seat in the end, so at least we have that buffer between us. A neutral zone, if you will.
Thank goodness. My skin is heating up as I close my eyes, feeling my head spinning. I think I am going to be sick, and I search for my sick bag next, keeping it close.
The sickness only came about the moment he appeared, and even after all these years, he can still cause me so much anxiety.
A ding echoes across the cabin, and it looks as if we can take our seatbelts off. I’m not the only one who has the idea to head to the toilet, and I best get up before a queue begins to form.
It’s just too bad that I have to climb over River to get there.
This should be awkward.
Also, I think he has fallen asleep.
Still, nature calls.
So, I undo my belt, rising to my feet. At first, I tap his shoulder gently, but the Alpha doesn’t rouse.
So, I try yet again.
Still no response, so I start hopping on one leg next, wondering what the best approach would be here. A big queue has already started to form by the toilet, and I missed my chance.
Damn, I am dying for a pee as I don’t think I can hold it in much longer.
So, I try for a final time, nudging his shoulder.
“Excuse me.”
Finally, he peers up, and I meet those irate slits of green. Even then, they pierce me. But at least he doesn’t appear to recognize me.
Good.
Because a day has never gone by where I have ever forgotten his beatific face.
I point to the toilet sign. “Mind if I brush past?”
The Alpha stares at me groggily for a moment, and it appears he was asleep. He used to fall asleep in class all the time, so I’m not surprised he can sleep easily in an aisle seat during take-off.
He sighs, trying his goddamned best to move his legs aside, but he’s just so tall. “Be my guest.”
I take that as my cue.
Just as I brush past him, though, it appears we have a little bit of turbulence. The world goes by in slow motion next as I grapple for purchase, yet my fingers only grab onto air.
And the next thing I know, I’m falling straight onto a pair of muscled thighs, and it looks as if I just landed on River’s lap.
His freshwater scent envelopes me immediately, and I curse inwardly. That’s when my own scent blooms, and now the whole cabin smells like a flowery meadow. Fuck.
River freezes beneath me. For a heartbeat, neither of us moves. My palms press against the hard planes of his chest while my legs drape his lap. Heat floods my cheeks so quickly next that I swear the whole aircraft can see me blushing.
Several passengers glance over the tops of their seats, some trying—and failing—not to stare. An elderly woman across the aisle smiles knowingly, as if she's just witnessed the beginning of some airplane romance instead of my greatest nightmare.
If only she knew.
Well, it looks as if I just became a character in one of my books after all. Especially with the way everyone keeps staring at us.
They can most likely smell my perfume, too.
You really can’t make this shit up.