So I let our friendship just… fizzle.
All through the first hour of the flight, I serve passengers while stealing glances at Matthew and immediately looking away like some awkward teenager caught staring. Every time I pass his seat, I swear he’s watching me too. And when our eyes catch, there’s something there, a flicker of recognition, maybe curiosity, maybe more.
I’m standing by the galley, waiting for the meals to heat up, when the curtain suddenly swishes aside and a giant steps through. I have to crane my neck to meet his eyes.
“Well, look who grew up,” I tease.
He slips his hands into his pockets, grinning. “Late growth spurt, I guess.”
“Guess?You’re a giant. And I’m wearing heels,” I say, shaking my head.
He chuckles, the sound so familiar it sends a pulse of warmth through me. “How long have you been working for Marx United?”
I shrug. “Two years. Got the job right after graduation.”
“I’m happy for you,” he says, and I believe him.
“So,” I say, leaning back against the counter, “where did you disappear to?”
“Uh… I got a position with Marx too. Paris division. But I’m back in New York now.”
My brows knit. “How have we not run into each other yet?”
He shrugs, a little smile tugging at his lips. “Fate.”
I roll my eyes, but I’m smiling too.
“So… Paris division?” I ask, folding my arms. “That sounds fancy.”
He smirks. “Well, someone had to keep the baguette industry alive.”
“Right,” I drawl. “And here I thought you were changing the world.”
“Not yet,” he says, leaning just slightly closer. “But you’d be surprised how far a few good marketing campaigns can go.”
“Oh, I’m sure,” I shoot back. “Meanwhile, I’m here making sure people don’t press the call button just to ask for another blanket.”
“Hey,” he says, mock serious, “I happen to think that’s a noble calling.”
I laugh. “You would.”
His smile softens. “It’s really good to see you again, Brooke.”
“You too,” I say, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear. “You got taller. And… different.”
“Different how?” he asks, eyes narrowing in amusement.
“Just… different.” I glance him up and down, lips twitching.
He grins. “Good different?”
“I don’t think we’ve spent enough time together for me to make that assessment yet.”
“Then let’s,” he says, that grin widening. “Let me show you Paris.”
I smile lightly. “I bet you say that to all the girls,” I tease, even as my heart thuds hard in my chest.
He smiles, that crooked, lopsided smile I remember and tilts his head. “Only the ones I want to see again.”
