“Out of this world.”
“I’m buying a lotto ticket.” I turn to face him and bite my smiling lip.
“Betting on black,” he says, meeting my eyes.
I open my mouth to say something in response, but the flight attendant gets on the loudspeaker, announcing that we’ll be landing soon.
I notice JP grip the armrest, tilting his head back and closing his eyes. I move closer and whisper, “You okay?”
He nods and breathes in through his nose.
“You don’t like landing?”
“Nope,” he answers, his lips popping on the “p.”
I smile and place my hand on his. “Don’t worry. Something is more likely to go wrong on the take-off than the landing.”
“That’s really unhelpful.” He flares his nostrils, breathing deeply.
“Sorry.” I cringe. “Oh, this is better: you’re more likely to get killed by a family member than you are to die in a plane crash.”
“Fantastic. My dad gets released from prison next week. He just did fifteen for second-degree murder.”
“Oh.” I blanch, wishing I could eat my words.
“I’m kidding,” he says, eyes still closed and head tilted back.
“I’m starting to hate you.”
“No, you’re not.” He half smiles, opening his eyes and glancing at my legs. “Can you uncross your legs?”
“What?”
“Uncross your legs,” he repeats.
I restrain a smile. “Really?”
His head bobs, and his dimple shows. “Look, I get that it’s weird, but it’s like the only weird thing about me.”
“I doubt that.”
“I swear.”
I laugh.
“Please.” He meets my gaze, and I cross my legs tighter. His eyes are freaking beautiful, more green than blue, but almost more turquoise than hazel. My heart flutters a little bit then begins to pound, reminding me of his request.
I uncross my legs and squeeze the back of his hand twice as he grips the armrest. I have the urge to comfort him while also not making it weird. I’ve only known the man for three hours and fifty-two minutes—approximately.
The plane jerks and bounces three times as it hits the ground. JP’s grip tightens around the armrest, and I pat the back of his hand.
He shakes out a small laugh. “I feel like a wuss.”
I scrunch my nose. “Yeah, a little bit.”
“Are you going to hold it against me?” he asks.
“Yes.”
