This feeling was bigger than it should have been, more than just minor irritation.
It wasn’t even about the armrest, or my bag, or even the guy next to me, not really.
It was everything else.
Leo. My job. Ashley. My mom.
About how I didn’t feel like myself anymore.
About how I’d gone from being a person who could roll with life’s punches to someone who felt sucker-punched by the slightest inconvenience.
This wasn’t me.
I let out a slow breath, trying to shake the thought, when one of the flight attendants approached, backing down the aisle and turning to our row.
I understood why she ignored the woman sleeping by the window, but when I went to request a water bottle, her cool blue gaze landed instead on the armrest thief seated beside me.
“What can I get you, sir?” she practically purred.
Oh my God, she was hitting on him.
“A water would be great,” Aisle Seat Guy said. We were so jam-packed onto this flight that I actually felt his arm rumble when he spoke.
“Are you sure? We have coffee, soda, wine? And a full selection of alcoholic beverages. You look like a whiskey man to me. I see you’re one of our priority flyers, so there’s no charge.”
Seriously?
My mouth actually dropped open as I witnessed this scenario play out.
I think he might have cracked a smile, but at this angle, I couldn’t tell unless I was willing to crane all the way around to stare at him—which I refused to do.
“Water’s fine, thank you,” he insisted.
“All righty then. One water, coming right up!” Was it possible for a person to purr and chirp at the same time? Apparently so. “And, by the way, I am so sorry we couldn’t upgrade you to first class. Busy time of year, you know.”
“It’s no problem, really,” he said, voice flat.
He sounded just as unimpressed by her as he’d been with me. But still…did he have that same bored look on his face? The one I’d inspired with my carry-on bag acrobatics?
Probably.
Not that I’d dressed to impress anyone. I’d barely managed to get my hair into a knot on the top of my head.
My throat closed around a lump of shame.
Back home, even to run errands, I’d always made at least the minimum effort—just in case someone recognized me.
After all, as Leo had always been quick to remind me: branding is everything.
While I reeled from yet another realization about this new and unimproved me, the flight attendant had grabbed Aisle Seat Guy’s drink, skipping over the generic waters in favor of a glass bottle that looked much higher end.
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes.
Well, at least now that she was done with him, I should finally be able to make my own request.
“I’ll have a—” But it didn’t’ matter what I wanted to drink because she was already moving to the row behind us, her smile firmly fixed as she ignored my attempt to catch her attention.
And the irritating guy beside me? Well, I knew he noticed, because he chuckled. But since I’d already made it clear that I wasn’t interested in him helping with anything, he did nothing to call her back.
