“Something tells me they don’t do that here.” My lip curled when my hand skirted over a rip in the seat. “Not a great first first-class experience for you.”
She pulled a book from her bag and dropped it on her lap. “It’s fine. Besides, I’m sure you’ll post a photo that makes our experience look much better than reality.”
“Hey, you’re the one who liked three of my photos the other day.” The flood of heat I felt knowing she spent free time looking at my photos was totally unnecessary. I blamed the inadequate air conditioning on this plane. “Does this mean youlikeme now?”
She flushed. “Don’t be ridiculous. Social media isn’t real.”
“I don’t know,” I said. “You’re the one doing all the liking.”
“Say what you will, but you’re the one who’s tagging me in photos.”
Minutes after she texted me the running photo, I posted it online before I could chicken out. Yes, I tagged her. It was only fair. “I looked good in it. You’re welcome for the photo cred, by the way.”
“It did get me more followers,” she admitted as she opened the book. “Not that it matters.”
“It’s okay if it does matter.”
Macey considered it; I could tell by the way her finger froze on the corner of the page. Eyes that should be roaming the printed words stayed in one place. After a few seconds, she answered, “Maybe it would be important if I had my own blog, but as a cog in the machine that isRoamer’s Digest, it doesn’t.”
A cog in the machine.I always hated how corporate terms sounded so robotic. At least let your employees have some personality in the ways they describe themselves.
“Do you want your own blog?”
“I’m a writer for a magazine,” she said, deflecting with ease. “That would be a conflict of interest.”
She dove nose-first into the book, intent on ignoring me for the rest of the flight. I laughed when I saw the title:A History of Whale Migration.Guess her costume spurred a newfound love of whales.
The discussion about the girlfriend and boyfriend situation could wait until we landed.
It was a long flight, though, and there was no built-in entertainment system. How was I going to survive without my favorite hobby of monitoring the plane’s location on the map?
I gained a few minutes of entertainment from watching people on the flight. You always saw the same people on airplanes. There was the nervous flier, who repeatedly checked the safety card; the sleepy flier with an eye mask and ear plugs; and the health enthusiast, who brought their own snacks onto the flight.
Once the air kicked on more strongly, it was a bearable temperature. Not for Macey, though. She immediately dug through her backpack to find a sweater and shoved her arms into it.
I did a double take.
Wait a damn minute.
“Is that my jacket?”
Macey blinked and glanced down at the jacket, looking just as surprised as I did. “Oh, yeah, it is. I almost forgot you gave it to me the last time we were at the airport.” She started to pull her left arm out. “Here, take it back.”
“No, it’s fine. You can keep it.” At Macey’s raised brow, I amended, “Until the end of the weekend. In case you get cold again.”
“Right.” She tucked her head down into the book again, but I thought I caught a smile on her face. “Thanks.”
I looked at her hands, poking out of the sleeves of my jacket, distantly aware of how domestic this entire situation was. Therewas a fine white scar on her index finger I’d never noticed before. Small hands. Mine would wrap around them easily.
I shook myself out of the thought and looked down at my own hands, safe and far away from hers.
This sudden sense of domesticity wasn’t real. We were just two people who were going to be forced to pretend to date for a few days. I didn’t needrealdomesticity with anyone. I especially didn’t need anyone else close to me. I just…ached a bit sometimes. That was all.
Ready for a nap, I leaned my chair fully back, ignoring Macey’s glare. Moments later, I slipped into a restful dream of whales and whale costumes.
“That’s funny,” Macey commented as we stepped into the cool blast of baggage claim at Aruba International Airport. “They put our names together.”
She pointed to a private driver waiting for us, holding a sign that saidNoah & Macey.
