To be fair, it’s nottotallymy fault — that line in security had nothing to do with me, and neither did the fact that Rita turned out to have half a bottle of vodka stashed in her bag, which held us all up while she disposed of it. But by the time I approach the gate, my progress is so slow that I’m practically moving backwards, and it’s only the lurking presence of Alexander Fox behind me that’s stopping me from turning around and running away.
I hate him.
Not as much as I hate flying, though; and, right now, it’s the ‘flying’ bit that’s foremost in my mind.
“Okay, you’re all set,” smiles the woman at the gate, who obviously didn’t attend the same training course as April. “Have a great flight!”
She hands me back my passport and boarding pass, and I tuck them carefully into my rucksack, then turn to walk back in the direction of the terminal, as far away from the waiting aircraft as I can get.
“Oh, no you don’t.”
Before I make it more than a few steps, Alex is on me, grabbing me by the arm and spinning me around to face him.
“What are you doing?” I hiss, seeing my own terrified face reflected in the dark lenses of his sunglasses. “Let me go. I’ll scream.”
“No, you won’t,” he says. “You’re not going to scream. You’re going to get on the plane.”
“Er,no, I’m not,” I reply, shaking my head firmly.
Now Idon’twant to get on the plane just to spite him.
Whatisit with this guy?
“Er,yes, you are.”
His tone is so smug and self-assured that I briefly consider screaming anyway.
“How wouldyouknow?” I snap, jerking my arm out of his grasp. “You don’t even know me. You have no idea what I’m going to do.”
He stares at me impassively from behind his sunglasses.
Who wears sunglasses indoors, anyway?
“Well, I just listened to you give your life story to the woman at the check-in desk,” he says, shrugging. “Going all the way back to when you were, what, fourteen?”
“Thirteen,” I interject quickly. “Ha! See! You don’t knoweverything, do you?”
“I know enough to know you want to beat your fear of flying,” he replies, unperturbed. “Everyone in the terminal knows that now. And I know you found some old diary that made you decide you were unhappy with your life, so you’re flying out to Spain to try to change it. Which you can’t do unless you get on the plane.”
He’s right, obviously.
I might have booked the flight in a moment of recklessness that was totally unlike me, but I’ve hated my job forever. And I do want to get on the flight. I just…
“I don’t think I can do it,” I admit in a small voice. “I’m too scared.”
He looks at me for a moment. Then, without another word, he bends down, puts his arms around my waist, and picks me up, like a caveman who’s about to carry me back to his lair.
It’s… kind of a turn-on, if I’m being honest.
“Well, it looks like I’ll have to do it for you,” he says grimly, carrying me towards the air bridge. “It’s okay,” he tells the surprised woman at the gate. “She’s with me.”
“I amnot,” I wail, kicking my legs frantically, and hitting nothing but air. “Put me down! This is insane.”
“Nope,” he says cheerfully, continuing towards the door of the plane. “You’ve already almost made me miss my flight today. I’m not letting you delay it again while you try to make your mind up.”
I open my mouth to protest, but we’re already at the bottom of the bridge, where he puts me back down again, positioning himself behind me, so I can’t turn and run.
By rights, I should be furious. I should be humiliated. I should really hate him for treating me like a piece of luggage he can pick up and put down whenever he wants. But before I can allow myself to feel any of that righteous indignation, I’m stepping across the threshold of the plane, showing the flight attendant my boarding pass, and being directed down the aisle, to where seat 13B sits waiting for me.
