I let out a laugh, and he grins. “What are the chances?”
I shake my head in disbelief, then tilt it back on the headrest and close my eyes.
He leans in. “Austin is one of my best friends from college.”
I let out a breath of a laugh, restraining my smile. “Don’t make this weird.”
“Never,” he says. “I won’t even pretend I know you.”
“You don’t know me.”
He lets out a low chuckle. “But you want me to.”
I cock an eye open. “Is that so?”
“You want to know me. I can tell,” he responds, sinking back in his chair and letting his eyes wander down the hallway.
I bark out a quick laugh. “You were doing so well, and you just ruined it.”
He laughs, his arrogant façade breaking. “I did not. I thought we were hitting it off. You know, like two drops of water.”
“Excuse me?”
“You know? Two peas in a pod. A match made in heaven.”
“Are you being facetious or arrogant?” I question, because my read on him is still a bit off-kilter.
“Confident,” he says, turning to look at me. His eyebrows are twisted in a way that says good boy with bad intentions. I hate it, but,oh my God,I love it.
“Yawn,” I say, feigning boredom. “Confident not arrogant is a tired tactic. Get creative.” I glance at my watch like I need to get going. But we’re on a plane, so the gesture makes him laugh.
I sigh.
“I won’t be weird.” He leans in as he says this, and unwelcomed goosebumps rise on my forearms.
“Good.” I swallow. I’m not someone who meets random strangers on airplanes and becomes friends.
“But I’ll say hello,” he adds.
My teeth sink into my lip as I try to formulate something smart in response. “Now, let’s hope my Emily and your Austin don’t light a forest on fire with their reveal.”
“Or release balloons for ocean creatures to choke on.”
I throw out my hand. “For real, balloons are getting washed up like crazy on every shore. Even Lake Michigan.”
“It’s a tragedy,” he says, shaking his head. His tone is light and playful, yet I can tell he understands. “You know who we need?”
“Captain Planet?” I offer, and he laughs.
“Whoever told us to cut up six-pack plastic rings so sea turtles wouldn’t get stuck in them in the nineties.”
I laugh, not because it’s funny, but because it’s true. I have never forgotten to slice each plastic ring with kitchen shears before disposing of them in the trash.
“This is crazy,” I say, tilting my head back. “We’re going to the same place and just so happen to be sitting next to each other on a plane full of two hundred other passengers headed to the same place.”
“Outlandish,” he responds.
“Unheard of.”
