My pulse kicked in a way that had nothing to do with altitude.
Oh no. Absolutely not.
I placed my elbow in the newly freed space, half of me wishing I had a good comeback while the other half just felt…grateful.
The grateful part won this time and, forcing my jaw to relax, I just…breathed.
Feeling angry, tense, and mad at the world obviously wasn’t helping.
But how the heck was I going to make it twelve days on my own if I could barely manage to get through these four hours?
A WONDERWORLD WELCOME!
The rest of the flight was uneventful once the plane—and my stomach—settled down. Aside from still being grudgingly aware of the man seated beside me, I managed to drift into that in-between state where you’re not fully awake but not quite asleep, making the time pass a little quicker.
Honestly, I’d rather have had a root canal than come on this trip, but at the same time, I had nothing waiting for me at home.
As the wheels touched down and the plane began to decelerate, I tried to summon a flicker of excitement.
Leo and I had traveled up and down the East Coast, visited California and Seattle, but I’d never been to Denver—or any of the “middle” states. I knew the Rocky Mountains were supposed to be stunning.
Not that I could confirm it.
Window Seat Lady had jolted awake during the descent and had been hunched forward ever since, her face practically glued to the tiny portal.
Technically, it was her view to enjoy—she had the window, after all.
Still, a glimpse might’ve been nice.
As we taxied toward the gate, the usual announcement crackled overhead, reminding everyone to stay seated—but of course, no one did. Seatbelts clicked, overhead bins thudded open, and the cabin filled with that familiar post-flight shuffle.
Because we were near the back, it felt like we’d be stuck there forever, watching the crowd ahead jostle and grab their bags like it was a race.
I half expected Aisle Seat Guy to stay seated as long as possible just to spite me. But right before there was an opening, he turned and, with a low sigh, his eyes met mine.
This time, I saw something there that I hadn’t noticed before. Not irritation, but a flicker of humor. Or maybe it was pity—something almost warm, something I probably didn’t deserve after I’d snapped at him earlier.
“If I get your bag for you, will I be in danger?” he asked.
Oh. I’d been preparing myself for attitude, not…whatever this was.
Well played.
I brushed my hair away from my face, finding it difficult suddenly to meet his gaze. “Yes. I mean, no,” I stammered. “I mean…of course not.”
The corner of his mouth twitched, and for a second, I thought he might actually smile. But he didn’t. He just unfolded himself from the seat in one smooth motion.
I’d known he was ridiculously attractive, but I hadn’t let myself really look until now. Probably for the best, considering how hyper-aware I’d been of every inch of him encroaching into my space for the entire flight.
His shirt, a well-fitted button-up, hugged his chest without trying too hard, and he had his sleeves rolled up to reveal lightly muscled forearms.
And that’s when I saw them: faint red marks, barely visible now, pressed into his skin from my fingernails.
Either he hadn’t noticed or didn’t care.
But as we waited, I couldn’t stop staring. This man exuded a natural confidence. He didn’t fidget or glance around to see who might be watching. He just was.
Leo, on the other hand, had put himself together following a careful recipe. Every detail from his perfectly knotted tie to the way he’d dominate conversations with rehearsed anecdotes suddenly seemed almost cold, calculated.
