I did it.
I’m on the plane.
And… so isAlexander Fox.
Who’s wrinkling his nose in disgust as he follows me up the aisle to the only two seats left on the packed aircraft.
Rita’s on the aisle, her sunhat taking up almost as much space as she does. I’m in the middle. And…
“I’m in 13C, by the window,” says Alex, in the tone of a man going to his doom, rather than on a sunshine break to Tenerife. “You’re going to have to let me pass.”
Rita and I stand up, our heads bumping in unison against the luggage compartment above us, as Alex wriggles past us both. I get a brief whiff of his aftershave as his back scrapes my nose. It smells musky and expensive, and I lean forward, just breathing it in, until…
“Are you trying tolickme? Should I be scared?”
He’s frowning again. There would appear to be very little chance of him seeing the funny side of this. I’d be surprised if he’s ever seen the funny side ofanything, actually.
“No! Don’t be ridiculous,” I reply. “Anyway, it’s me who should be scared ofyou. Whatwasthat back there? Do you normally go around picking women up like that, against their will?”
“No, they’re normally quite willing,” he says, with the slightest hint of a smirk, which only succeeds in making him seem even more arrogant. “And you were too, weren’t you?”
“I certainly wasnot,” I say hotly. “How dare you manhandle me like that?”
“Would you like a mint, love?” says Rita, thrusting a bag in front of my face. “It’ll help your ears pop when we take off.”
The mention of taking off sends my stomach instantly back into a spin cycle again. I swallow nervously.
“Er, no thanks, Rita. Um, what was I saying?”
I turn back to Alex, who’s settled into his seat, and is back on his phone, tensely tapping out a message that presumably involves somekind of life-or-death situation, if the serious expression on his face is anything to go by.
“I think you were accusing me of manhandling you,” he says, not bothering to look up. “When, actually, I was just trying to help you.”
“Oh, yeah, very helpful, I’m sure. You’re all heart.”
He hits the ‘send’ button on his message in the manner of a man determined to have the final word on something.
“Look, you wanted to get on the plane, didn’t you?” he says tersely. “I helped you get on the plane. You should be thanking me.”
He looks up, and I see my own white face reflected in his glasses again.
“Are you never going to take those things off?” I ask, aiming for distraction. “It’s not even that bright in here. Are you in disguise or something?”
He stares at me for a long moment, and then, before I even realize I’m going to do it, I reach up and pull the glasses off his face with a ‘ta-da’ kind of motion.
Underneath, his eyes are green and slightly bloodshot, fringed with thick, dark lashes, and filled with a sadness that’s only emphasized by the huge purple bruise that covers one eye, making the eyelid swell in protest.
“Oh, my!” says Rita, leaning across me for a closer look. “That’s a right shiner you’ve got there. Been in a fight, have we, love?”
“Sorry,” I mutter, feeling horribly guilty as I hand back his sunglasses. “I didn’t … I mean… Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” he snaps, shoving the glasses back on. “Or I would be if people would just leave me alone.”
He picks up the phone and jabs viciously at the screen to open up his messages. I watch curiously out of the corner of my eye, almostforgetting that I’m currently trapped inside a tin can which is about to hurtle through the skies at 500 miles per hour.
Back in the airport, I assumed he was just a bit of an asshole, really; the kind of guy who thinks he’s so superior to everyone around him that he doesn’t have to bother being polite. Now that I’ve seen him close up, though — and without the sunglasses he seems to be using as armor — it’s obvious there’s something more going on. He’s not just angry, he’ssad. I can tell by the jittery, disconnected way he keeps picking up that phone of his, then putting it back down; and by the way his knee jerks up and down reflexively in his seat, like some kind of nervous tick.
“You’re not scared of flying too, are you?” I ask hopefully, as the plane’s engines give an ominous rumble.
