“I’m warning you,” I say, trying to ignore the heat between us. “You’d better not show me all the tourist traps.”
He shakes his head, smiling. “Promise.”
“Fine,” I reply, trying to sound casual, even though my pulse is already picking up.
He steps closer, just enough that the heat from his body brushes against mine. My breath hitches. His gaze dips briefly to my mouth before snapping back up to my eyes, and I swear the plane hums louder.
Then, without warning, his hand skims the small of my back, barely there, but enough to make every nerve in my body spark awake. For a second, he just looks at me, searching my face for something unspoken.
And then, just as quickly, he steps back, holding up a bottle of water from the service cart. “Thanks,” he murmurs, his voice rougher than before, and walks away down the aisle.
Once he’s gone, I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding and slump against the counter, my knees suddenly weaker than they should be.
Definitely different.
Matthew
Holy shit.
I have a date with Brooke Masters.
She’s always beenthe one that got away.Scratch that, she’s the oneI letget away, because I was too terrified to ask her out.
I drop back into my seat, grinning like an idiot. If someone had told college-me this would happen, I’d have laughed in their face. Back then, I was a nerd. And not the cool, Clark Kent glasses-and-a-secret-abs kind of nerd. I meanchubby, short, painfully socially awkwardnerd.
And can you blame me? Socializing was hard enough before the world shut down and then suddenly, I didn’t have to, at all. Quarantine was like a safety blanket. Online classes were a dream. I didn’t have to make small talk or force myself into conversations.
I was one of the unlucky few who graduated during the COVID era or lucky, depending on how you look at it. At the time, it felt like a blessing.
But by the time my postgrad started, the lockdowns were over. The world had snapped back into motion, and suddenly I was supposed to go from complete isolation to sitting in a crowded lecture hall again. Even with a vaccine coursing through me, I hated every second of it.
So, I did what I always did: sat in the back. Alone.
I had to take a class for credit, and everyone said tourism was the easiest. So I picked that. Easy, sure but boring as hell.
Until one day,shesat beside me.
Brooke Masters. The prettiest girl on campus. The one everyone noticed when she walked into a room, loud laugh, hair that seemed to shine, eyes that made you forget what you were saying. And she was sitting next tome.
Now, I know she didn’t exactly strike up a conversation with me because of mygood looks. It was for my notes and before you start feeling bad for me, let me be clear: I used her just as much as she used me.
Technically, what we had was a trade deal disguised as a friendship. I helped her study and keep her grades afloat while she balanced work. And in return, she dragged me out of the shell I’d been hiding in for years.
Brooke introduced me to guys who eventually became my best friends, to girls who became girlfriends, and more importantly to a version of myself I didn’t know existed. Which, in hindsight, was exactly what I needed as a marketing major.
Funny how that works. Introverts always seem to pick the most extroverted careers possible.
I smile at the thought, absently rolling up the in-flight magazine in my hands. I’d seen her during boarding and in my eagerness to say something, anything, I’d fumbled the damn thing and dropped it. Which, well… led tothatmoment.
I’m still thinking about that damn magazine when the soft clink of the meal cart pulls me out of my head.
And there she is.
Brooke. Hair swept up, lips glossed, uniform crisp, but it’s not the outfit that gets me. It’s the way she moves. Confident, practiced, like she’s done this a thousand times and yet every step still feels deliberate.
“Chicken or pasta?” she asks, voice professional, but there’s the tiniest curve at the corner of her mouth.
“Chicken,” I say, clearing my throat. “Definitely chicken.”
