I don’t dislike it, I don’t drink much, but I certainly can’t share that. “Yes, I love it, actually.” I wouldn’t go so far as to say love ... but I’m trying to fit in.
“I’ll bring you a little something. Poor you, I’d hate it if a baby threw up all over me.” She gave me a placating grin.
“Not the most fun I’ve had on an airplane.” I offer a wide smile and I notice Mr. Adonis cracks a tiny grin as well.
I fish around for my book and find it. I'm reading a romance novel so I try to cover the title with my hands. Luckily, it's not one of those with a steamy sex scene on the cover. There are no people and only scrolling words that say A Hot Christmas Knight. The title says it all. The book isn’t quite as scandalous as the title, but it's pretty spicy. I nearly gulp down my wine when it comes and pick at the bowl of nuts served with it as the doors close and the flight attendant makes an announcement about putting up our tray tables. I gather the nut bowl, the wine glass, and my book awkwardly trying to balance them in my arms as I look for a way to remove the tray and stow it in its proper place.
Marcel, who I thought was ignoring me, takes my wine glass out of my hand and stows my table effortlessly in the arm of my chair. He then sets my wine glass into the drink holder on the armrest, takes the bowl of nuts, and puts it in the holder on the other side. He then plucks my book from where I’m desperately holding it to my chest so I can into a comfortable position. He places it back in my hands before eyeing me after seeing the cover. All I can do is bite my lip.
I’m so fucked.
“You can put your table back up after we’ve taken off,” he says, firing up my heart. His voice is velvet, low and smooth, the kind of French accent that could sell me a castle in the middle of nowhere, just to spend time with him in it.
“Thank you,” I try to return the demure attitude, but all I’m managing is gawky teenager.
I’m not a teenager. I’m twenty-four and in my senior year at the California Institute of Art where I study architectural restoration. I hope to rehab landmark buildings and bring them back to their original glory, but this guy doesn’t know that. Hischarcoal sweater fits like someone tailored it to highlight his perfect muscles and he smells faintly of something woodsy and clean, like cedar and cold air. He is a man who has things made for him. I am a woman here entirely by accident. I take another sip of my wine, but let’s be real: it’s a gulp. This guy has me twisted in knots.
“I hope I don’t smell like baby vomit,” I say, gesturing to myself. “It’s kind of a disgusting fragrance.” I wince and pinch my nose.
Marcel chuckles, and it’s deep and rich, like he’s laughing with his whole chest. “It is not so bad. I once had wine spilled on me mid-flight, an entire glass of Bordeaux, right on my lap. I can’t smell anything.” He has to be lying.
I laugh, the tension in my shoulders easing. He leans back, crossing one ankle over his knee, the picture of relaxed sophistication. Meanwhile, I’m white-knuckling my armrests because we’ve started our ascent and immediately hit turbulence.
“Don’t fly much?” he asks, still perfectly calm.
“Just back and forth for school,” I say in a clipped tone that highlights my terror.
“So.” His hand gently lays over mine and caresses where I’m clutching the armrest. “On ascent, the plane will hit warm air pockets on hot days like today, since California has unseasonably hot weather. This creates tunnels of warm air that jostle the plane. Nothing to worry about, it’ll be over soon,” he says, still holding my hand. “Are you traveling home for Christmas?”
“Yes. Rhode Island.” I hesitate, then add, “I’m going to my grandma’s. It’s just us this year. My parents ditched me for Aruba.” I am blabbering, I need to stop blabbering and he has got to let go of my hand. I’m about to pass out. I think I’m gonna be sick.
His brows lift in surprise. “They left their daughter to spend the holiday alone?”
I shrug. “Alone with Grandma. To be fair, I volunteered. My gran ... well, she lost my grandpa this year. I didn’t want her to be alone. She said she didn’t mind and we could all go, saying she was too old for Aruba and didn’t look good in a bikini, yada yada, but I knew she’d be sad. I’m going home to be with her like I do every year. I like traditions. I’m good. I don’t need to see any more half-naked men that’s for sure.” I huff a laugh and realize what I’ve just said.
“Any more?” He raises a brow and releases my hand.
Fuck, I mean yay. God, I could not sound like any more of a stupid moron at this point.
“Um ... I go to a hippie dippy school. Some students there don’t like clothes ... wearing clothes. I mean ... Some don’t wear a lot of clothes.” Oh fuck. I just take a sip of wine and try not to cry.
“That’s very kind of you to stay with your Grandmother.” Marcel studies me, his expression softening. “Where do you go to school?”
“California Institute of Arts and Sciences at Humboldt, that’s the long name. We just call it CASH. It doesn’t quitetranslate, but ugh, nothing does there, I love it ... mostly.” Someone needs to shoot me and put me out of my misery.
“With so many underdressed students what’s not to love? Are you an artist? Or a scientist?” How is he still talking to me?
“I am studying Architectural Restoration so sort of both. I plan on rehabbing old buildings and giving them back to the community. So many historic buildings are just in ruins.” I love this part of the conversation because I could talk about my work all day.
“Admirable ambition,” he says and takes a sip of his wine.
For a second I think our conversation is over, the turbulence has definitely stopped so maybe he’s just a mile-high hero who likes to calm women in distress. Just in case, I ask him a question.
“What about you? Family in Rhode Island?” Awkward ... so awkward.
He gives a small smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Not family. Business.”
There’s a weight behind his words, but he doesn’t elaborate, and I don’t push. I mean who does business without their family over Christmas? Instead, I glance out the window, where the night sky is dotted with stars and I feel the strangest pull in my chest. Like maybe this flight, vomit disaster and all, will be one to remember. I have five hours to find out, but sadly most of it will be spent sleeping.
