“Somewhere between eighty and ninety, I think.”
I nodded. “The murky middle.”
“Yeah. I’m wading my way through it, trying to figure out how to get the story to where I need it to go.”
“So, you’re a pantser, not a plotter.”
“A hundred percent.”
“Me, too,” I said. I smiled and leaned back into my small chair as the pilot began to talk over the intercom. Flight attendants were checking our seats to make sure we were buckled up, and the discussion about the possibility of us falling out of the sky began to emanate through the speakers, along with a demonstration about oxygen masks, life vests, and other fun travel accessories. I shoved my left hand into my jacket pocket to locate my hacky sack. With my fingers wrapped around it, I breathed deeply and closed my eyes.
I could feel Beckett’s face inch the slightest shade closer to mine before he whispered in my ear. “Nervous?” he asked.
“A little, I guess.” He smelled like cedar and Wint-O-Green Life Savers.
“Your eyes are squeezed shut,” he noted.
“Fine,” I sighed. I opened them and looked at him. My pulse skipped just enough for me to become acutely aware of what my facial expression might look like. I tried a smile. “I’m deathly afraid of heights,” I admitted.
“Two things we have in common,” he said.
“You too?”
“Yup.”
“So, I guess we won’t be much help to each other during takeoff.”
“Depends,” he said. “Are you a puker? I could hold your hair back.”
“God, no,” I replied. “Wait—why? Areyoua puker?”
He shook his head.
I breathed a sigh of relief.
“I could hold your hand,” he suggested.
“During takeoff, you mean?”
“Yeah.” He looked down at his lap, then raised his eyes up at me. From that angle, looking at him felt almost like looking at a Calvin Klein model. He was like part puppy dog, part sex king, and my loins were not prepared at all for it.
“Um. Sure.”
From that same position, he furrowed those perfectly shaped eyebrows. “You sure? No pressure. Just trying to help.”
I smiled but said nothing.
“You’re not married, right?” he asked.
“No,” I said, holding in a snort. “Far from it.”
“Boyfriend?”
I inhaled. “Actually, my most recent romantic encounter involved being catfished on the internet and stood up at a movie theater. So, no. No boyfriend.”
“Seriously?”
I nodded.
