Gripping the armrests, I replayed the scene in my mind. Why hadn’t I just apologized and said thank you? That was who I was—pleasant, always full of sunshine, even when I didn’t feel like it.
But something about him—about his unflappable demeanor and the way he’d looked at me—had set me off.
It had been one more thing on top of everything else, and that was all it took for me to lose my temper.
I never lost my temper.
Except, I guess, lately I kinda had. I’d lost it…like seriously lost it. And we hadn’t been taping—we’d been broadcasting live. And sure, I thought my actions were justified, but I was also aware that everyone at the station now thought I was a total lunatic.
I didn’t want to be an angry person; I really didn’t think I was built for it, to be honest. And now? I felt like an idiot.
I heard the doors slam up front, and while I ruminated over my reaction to what most would consider an act of kindness, the plane rolled backward toward the concourse.
I let out a slow breath. You’re overthinking it, Luna. Let it go. I’m sure Aisle Seat Guy already has.
The massive engines hummed beneath us, a steady whine that I knew would only get louder once we really got moving, and the flight attendants began their announcements.
He didn’t say another word.
For some reason, that irritated me all over again.
The four hours it would take to fly from Boston to Denver loomed like a lifetime. I stared at the seat in front of me, wishing I was anywhere but here.
Wishing, in fact, that I was anyone but me.
SHAKE VIGOROUSLY
Back when my life didn’t feel like a made-for-television catastrophe, I would’ve spent a flight like this looking forward to my destination, scrolling through Pinterest for dining table inspirations, or maybe dozing off with a neck pillow—which, by the way, I’d forgotten to pack.
Now? Now I was wedged into the ghastly middle seat, with an elderly lady quietly snoring on one side and a guy who seemed determined to make me feel small—literally and figuratively—on the other.
The engines vibrated steadily beneath us, and the faint roar of the air passing outside the cabin settled into a white noise that made my ears buzz. I’d never been a nervous flyer, not in the least, but then again, I hadn’t had anything to be nervous about.
I had trusted…my life.
I shifted awkwardly, trying to find a comfortable position. Sitting here for four hours staring at the seat back in front of me wasn’t an option, so I Ieaned forward, hands searching the sides of my skirt to find the pocket with my phone.
Unfortunately, the awkward position forced my elbows to jut out to the sides, and I wound up jabbing the guy next to me—twice.
“Sorry,” I mumbled again, although my voice sounded flat.
And again…he didn’t respond. I couldn’t really blame him.
I straightened, clutching my phone like a prize, but when I went to reclaim my armrest, it was…occupied.
Taken.
I looked down, and suddenly I was irritated all over again.
Seriously? Everyone knew the middle-seat person had full, unspoken rights to both armrests. It was the only consolation for being crammed between strangers for hours.
I glared at his arm, willing it to move. He didn’t seem to notice—or care.
Fine. Be like that.
I turned my attention back to my phone, bringing up a book I’d downloaded the day before, but I couldn’t seem to get past the first page, rereading the same lines over and over as I fought these unfamiliar sensations in my chest.
I just…I couldn’t get it under control. It was like the blood in my veins had suddenly turned electric, and every pump of my heart only added more fuel to the fire.
