“Tons of people are afraid to fly, Monroe. That’s nothing to be ashamed of, it’s pretty normal,” he assures me, patting my shoulder. I let out a breath and nod.
“I know, I just don’t need it broadcasted all over the place. I’d like to keep it between us three, got it?” I say in a slightly authoritative tone as I look between the guys. They both nod in understanding. Mason gives me one of his ‘I’m going to do something stupid’ grins on his face.
“I’m serious, Mase. This doesn’t leave this room.”
Mason holds his hands up in surrender. “Okay, okay. I won’t tell anyone else,” he agrees as he walks toward my door. “I won’t need to. Everyone will already be able to tell by the way you cry like a little bitch when we get on.”
Mason and Logan laugh at Mason’s comment. I grab the closest thing to me, which happens to be a shoe I was going to pack sitting on my bed and chuck it at him.
“Fuck you, dude. Both of you get out of my fucking room.”
The two of them laugh hysterically as they exit my room, and I want to do a lot more than just throw a shoe. Instead, I slam the door shut and throw myself onto my bed. Throwing my arm over my eyes, I let out a long breath.
Fuck them. Fuck this trip. Fuck Italy. And fuck flying.
Chapter 20
Holland
JFK is packed to the brim with travellers going to all different places. Sounds of the airport fill my ears, and I can already feel the panic setting in. So many voices talking at once, the sound of luggage being wheeled across the floor, the loudspeaker announcing flights.
I can’t seem to focus on anything. It feels like I’m in a trance, and I’m not in control of my body. I’m just blindly following Mason, Logan, and the girls to check our luggage.
I’ve been out of it since we pulled up to the airport and the Uber dropped us off. I don’t know if anyone’s tried to talk to me. All I know is that my heart is racing, and my skin feels like a bunch of tiny ants are crawling under it.
Not even the jeans that look like they’re painted on to Lainey’s skin are distracting me from the impending panic attack. I’m pretty positive I’ve looked normal so far, and I don’t think anyone can tell I’m freaking the fuck out.
After we’ve checked our bags and went through TSA, which was literal hell, we finally sit down at our gate. We got here two hours early, so now we just have to wait to board.
Falling into a chair, I set my carry-on bag down and lean back, pulling the baseball cap I decided to wear this morning over my eyes and crossing my arms over my chest.
Just as I think I’m beginning to doze off, a body flops down in the seat beside me. I don’t move, in hopes that whoever it is will leave me alone. No such luck.
Lifting my hat off my eyes, Lainey looks at me with a small smile. The blue in her greyish blue eyes stands out against her long, dark hair that has fallen in her face. She looks fucking gorgeous, even in her big baggy sweatshirt and jeans without a trace of makeup on her face.
I always thought she was naturally beautiful. I may not have let myself admit it, but I knew she was a pretty girl. She never even had to try.
“Are you sleeping?” she asks softly. I close my eyesagain.
“I was,” I lie.
“You’ve been really quiet ever since we got in the Uber. Are you alright?” Lainey asks, her brows furrowing. She’s never really shown concern for me, or even asked me how I was, so this feels odd.
Without opening my eyes, I say, “I’m fine.”
“You sure? You look kind of pale,” she states, putting her hand on my forehead. What the hell is she doing? Why is she acting like she cares about how I’m feeling? Does she? Maybe she’s finally giving in to her urges.
“I’m fine, Barkley. Give it a rest,” I snap. I don’t mean to be a dick, but when my anxiety gets bad, I get irritable. My eyes open, and I see the confused look on Lainey’s face. She doesn’t look hurt or upset that Isnapped at her. She just looks suspicious, like she doesn’t believe me.
The girl has a good reading on me I guess, because I’m not even close to being fine. I feel like I could vomit all over the floor right now or pass the fuck out. As the time gets closer to boarding, I can feel the panic rising.
“You’re afraid of flying,” she says matter-of-factly. My head snaps to her, and I can see the triumph in her eyes at the fact that she knows she’s right. I scoff, trying to play it off.
“I’m not. Just impatient,” I lie. She sees right through the bullshit. Lainey always knows when someone’s lying, it’s like her superpower. I’ve always hated it, the way she would always know when I was lying to her.
It made it extremely hard to play games as a kid or cheat a little when we played Monopoly.
She inches a bit closer, and her arm brushes mine, making me forget about the nausea in my stomach and direct my attention to my dick, willing it not to get hard from the simplest touch.
