But I don’t dare tell him that.
“I think my situation is unique. I’ve had the opportunity of being around many different men for hours at a time and I’ve seen how a lot of those men think. Eighty percent of the time, I was the only woman in the room, and men like to hear themselves talk. So I did a lot of listening.”
Nat bobs his head, and I can tell he’s taking in everything I’m saying.
“I’ve heard men say that women are supposed to cook and clean or they’re not worth anything to them. I’ve heard them say that women should be okay with cheating, as long as he’s discreet about it.”
Nat scrunches his nose in disapproval.
“And even when they’re not that crass about it, they don’t sound happy. I’ve heard men complain day after day about going home to their wives and about how miserable they are. About how they prefer planes more and wish they could get married to aircrafts. I’ve heard them say that the only thing their wives have over planes is that they,” I blush, “can warm a bed.”
“That’s not how every man thinks,” Nat points out. “I know guys like that. They exist. But they’re not the representative of the group.”
“Maybe it’s because of the industry I work in, but I feel like those guysarethe majority. And the scary part is that they would sometimes bring their girlfriends to functions at school and at the hangar. It was clear those women hadnoidea how those men truly felt about them or how they see women in general.”
I lick my lips because I can remember several incidences when a woman would blaze through the school gates, begging one of my classmates to take her back, even after he treated her poorly.
“As an AMT, we learn to investigate every sound in a plane—from the engine to the wings. We don’t ignore the signs because then the plane might take off with a life-threatening issue. We red-tag anything, and I meananything. And once a component of a plane is red-tagged, it’s mandatory that the plane is grounded until it’s repaired.”
“Wow,” Nat says.
“But there’s no protocol for dating and I feel like a lot of us are signing off on planes that have been red-tagged. We’reexpectedto have a partner, which adds all this pressure to ignore bad behavior…”
My eyes pop open when I realize I’ve been talking too much. “Sorry. I’m rambling.”
“I love when you ramble.”
“You can stop me, you know.”
“Why would I? I agree with you. I’ve just never thought of relating it to planes before.”
I laugh self-consciously. “So you don’t think I’m ‘bitter’?”
“No way.” He frowns. “Someone called you bitter?”
“My mom. She says my standards are too high, which is why I’m still single.”
“High standards only scare people who don’t intend to meet them. You deserve to find exactly what you’re looking for, Riles.”
I hold my breath.
We continue walking in silence until the garage comes into view. The croaking of toads and the flicker of fireflies buzzing gives the trail a magical quality.
“What do you think about me?” Nat asks.
My eyebrows hike. “W-what do you mean?”
“I’d like to submit myself for inspection.”
My heart beats double time.
“I’m not perfect,” Nat says, coming to a stop and facing me, “but when you take me down and inspect me…” moonlight glistens in his eyes, “I’ll be airworthy.”
My throat gets thick to the point that I can’t swallow. Is this what it means to be swept off my feet? I really can’t remember a time I’ve felt so breathless and off-kilter.
“I think I can arrange an inspection,” I whisper.
His eyes light up. “We can start with a physical.”
