“Oh come on, I’m sure you picked up on it.”
“Well, yeah. You were practically throwing yourself at me this whole time.” I roll my eyes. He presses another kiss to my lips with another smile.
A knock at the door has us jumping apart and whatever small space is available in this tiny bathroom. Spoiler: it’s none. We’re still entwined together, my back pressed against the small sink and Reid’s against the door.
“Hey, two of you can’t be in there at the same time.” I recognize the flight attendant’s voice.
Reid’s still staring at me, his gaze completely unwavering from my face as he calls back, “Sorry, just delivering a clean shirt.” An amused smile touches his face and he drags his thumb across my bottom lip, almost like a promise that this isn’t over. This conversation. This moment. This kiss.
My lips burn at his touch, but he drops his hand from my face and grabs the bottom hem of the shirt and swiftly starts doing up the buttons. The shirt thankfully hits mid thigh, considering how tall Reid is. Not an outfit I would feel comfortable wearing on an airplane, but don’t know that I have another option.
“Okay, well if she’s done, she needs to come out.” The flight attendant’s tone is slightly more impatient and I briefly wonder how many times she’s had to break apart people trying to join the mile high club. Not that that’s what we’re doing here, but still.
He gives me one more kiss before turning to open the door. I turn around, looking at my stained clothes in the sink. There’s no point in salvaging them. They were both old and from bargain bins anyways. I pick up the wet clothes and toss them in the garbage can. Reid has already vacated the bathroom and when I finally come to the door, the stewardess stops me.
“We’re working on finishing cleaning up the seat, but I’d be more than happy to give you a new one. You don’t deserve to be crammed back there again.”
“You have an empty seat?” I can hardly believe my luck. I wish it was a little bit sooner so I wouldn’t have gotten thrown up on in the first place, but beggars can’t be choosers, and they have one now when it matters.
She nods at me. “Follow me.”
And I follow her only a few steps until there’s a seat across the aisle and one row up from Reid. She gestures to it with a flourish. “Is this all right?”
I gape at her. “You’re kidding, right? This is a first class seat.”
“It is, yes”
“This is the backup seat you’re offering me?”
“It’s open and you just got thrown up on, so yes. Did you not want it?”
“Of course I want it. I’m just curious about the upcharge.”
She waves me off. “Just take it. You’ll have to go back for your bags, but the seat is yours if you want it.”
“Yeah I want it.” I slide into the large seat immediately, feeling immensely more comfortable. I sigh as I stretch my bare legs out. My new seat mate—a man in a suit wearing little white earbuds—gives me a quick look before turning back to the movie on his screen. “No wonder people pay more to be up here,” I say to no one in particular.
The flight attendant’s lips barely twitch. “I’ll come back with a blanket. I know the vents can get kind of cold for some people. Let me know if you need anything else.”
I shut my eyes and relax when something soft bounces off my face. My eyes fly open and I notice the crumpled paper napkin with the airline logo sitting in my lap. I look around to see where it might have come from and find Reid smiling at me. A smile that gives my heart an extra beat every few seconds. It’s wide and warm and bright and I think I could stare at it this entire ten-hour flight. He gestures for me to open it and without any ounce of hesitation, I do.
Do you want to watch a movie together?
I turn in my seat to face him across the aisle. “You know we’re, like, two feet apart, right? You can just talk to me.”
“I didn’t want you to get a neck cramp turning around to look at me the whole time.”
“How thoughtful.”
“And I was trying to be romantic,” he adds. “Just answer the question.”
I roll my eyes playfully and turn back in my seat. Realizing I left my carry-on back in Vomit Central so I don’t have my phone, earbuds, or even a pen to reply to him. I turn backwards again.
“Sorry to ruin your romantic plan, but I don’t have a pen to circle ‘yes.’”
“Shoot,” he mutters. He quickly unbuckles his seatbelt and gets to his feet. “You were, what, 17B?”
“I think so? Why? What are you—” But before I can even finish my question, he strolls off to the back of the plane. He’s back in a moment with my bag, depositing it gently in my lap.
