I place my hands on his chest awkwardly, not knowing where to keep them. I can feel his breath and the hurried beat of his heart against my palms. The way he looks right now is unrecognizable.
This very large, very muscular rugby playing man looks like a small child as he trembles beneath my touch.
“Holland, what’s wrong?” I ask, worry laced in my tone. He doesn’t say anything at first, just continues to take deep breaths.
“Holland?”
“I-I’m fine,” he stutters. He’s very clearly not fine. I shake my head, hoping he’ll tell me what’s wrong so I can at least try to help. I’m not good with feelings. I’m not good with comforting people, I can barely comfort myself.
I use sex to cope with my issues, and something tells me Holland is not going to be using that same strategy.
“Well, you don’t exactly look fine…”
“Thanks,” he mumbles, rolling his eyes. I chuckle softly, hoping I can distract him with a little humor.
“Hey, I keep it real. I wouldn’t lie to you,” I tease. A small hint of a smile appears on his lips, and I can tell I’m getting close. Holland nods.
“Yeah, you’ve always been pretty up front, haven’t you?”
“It’s a talent of mine, actually. Brutal honesty is my specialty.”
Holland scoffs, and a real smile finally appears on his face, making me smile in return. The Holland I know is back, and I can finally breathe again.
The smile on his face fades quickly though, replaced with his worried expression again.
“I hate flying,” he says softly. I know he’s always had a weird thing with flying, but I’ve never seen him like this. Is he having a panic attack?
“Is that why you look like you’ve run a marathon and have puffy eyes?” I ask, grimacing.
“Yeah. I think I’m having a panic attack,” he says quietly, almost as if he’s embarrassed to admit it. I don’t know why he’d be embarrassed. It’s just me, and it’s not like I don’t know him.
Holland drops his head back and looks at the ceiling before letting out a big breath of air.
“I came in here to splash some water on my face, but then the plane shook and I freaked out. I know it was turbulence, but I thought…” he swallows as he looks back down at me.
The vulnerability in his eyes is killing me right now. I really don’t like seeing him like this. Something in me wants to take away his worry, his pain. I want to help him, but I don’t know how. We still have hours left on this plane. How is he going to last?
A bit of turbulence shakes the aircraft again and Holland’s face loses any color that was left in it. He looks like he’s going to vomit, and if he does, it will be right on me since I’m standing in front of the toilet and have no room to move.
“Shit,” he hisses, grabbing the wall. When the plane evens out again, he takes a few deep breaths, but they’re not strong. “Fuck, I need to get out of here.”
“Hey, you’re okay. We’re okay, Holland,” I urge, my hands cupping his cheek in a surprising gesture. What the hell am I doing?
Holland doesn’t even seem to notice my hands as he closes his eyes and shakes with fear.
Before I know what I’m saying, the strangest thing falls off of my lips in a whisper.
“Holland,kiss me.”
His eyes snap open, confusion replacing panic for a moment.“What?”
“Yeah, just kiss me,”I repeat, my gaze steady. I don’t know what the hell I’m doing, but I do know that I want to take his mind off of the flight and his anxiety. “Come on. It’ll distract you.”
He hesitates, watching me as if I grew two heads. In any other circumstance, this would probably never happen, but I don’t know what else to do. This is what helps me, and it’s all I have right now.
“Are you sure?” he asks, looking completely stuck between giving in and running for the hills. My eyes search him for a moment, trying to figure out what he’s thinking, but I’m not a mind reader and I honestly hate that at this moment.
I nod, giving him the go ahead to do whatever he needs to distract himself. After a few awkward moments, he finally leans down, and my pulse races. Holy shit, is this really about to happen? Am I letting Holland Monroe kiss me?
