I eagerly lower the window. Sprawled below us is a delightful maze of airplanes and the supporting machinery that contribute to a seamless flight. The lights that border the runway wink and sparkle like a beautiful, mechanical grid.
“How did you find this place?” I grip the edges of the window, denying the impulse to wiggle all the way through since Nat is still driving.
His voice is hard to hear with the wind rushing through the cab. “I stalked a few online plane-enthusiast forums. It’s all thanks to JetOnly97. He posted great directions in the comment thread.”
I let out a delighted laugh. Before Nat can fully stop the car, I’m barreling out and rushing to the edge of the cliff. From this vantage, I can hear the roar of the airplanes as they soar overhead.
Excitement buzzes under my skin. It’s been that way since the day Uncle Will walked me through a hangar filled with airplanes in various states of repair.
Incredible.
I soak in the view for a few seconds before I realize I’m alone at the edge of the hill.
I’ve abandoned Nat.
Sheepishly, I spin to locate him. He’s busy setting up something in the bed of his truck. My boots crunch loose stones as I draw nearer and witness him adding another layer of blankets to the truck bed and fluffing some pillows.
I gasp.
Nat smiles at me. “It’s nothing fancy, but welcome to a picnic under the stars. Well, I see more satellites and airplanes than stars tonight and all I have is coffee and that croissant I bought at the drive thru, but I tried my best.”
“I love it, Nat.”
He hops down and offers his hand, helping me to climb up on the bed. I can scramble on the truck myself, having crawled over large planes and turbo-engines for years. However, I allow him to help me.
Nat jumps onto the pickup bed too and the entire car rocks.
“Should I take off my socks?” I ask.
“If you want to.”
I toe my boots off and Nat accepts them and sets them to the side. Then he takes off his shoes too and sits against the back of the truck. Moonlight spills across his mischievous grin as he spreads an arm over the pillows, patting his shoulder.
I grin and settle next to him.
A plane takes off and my eyes immediately track the blinking light.
“This feels good,” Nat says, trying to cup my shoulder.
I sit up, tilting my head. “Do you hear that? I think that’s a Boeing 787, but it could also be a 777.”
“Oh,” Nat says, his eyes wide in a blank stare while his hand still remains cupped around my non-present body.
I realize he was trying to cuddle me and lean back against him. Below, the runway lights up like a meticulously organized constellation and I strain my neck to see what airplanes are flying in.
“You smell good,” Nat observes, letting his hand dance up and down over my arm.
“Mm. So do you.” I tilt my head up to him.
Nat looks down at me, his eyes traveling to my mouth.
I want to focus on him, but the airplanes areright there. My eyes dart to the activity below the hill before sliding back to him.
“Did you know that a single damaged fan blade can ground an aircraft? Even if everything with the engine checks out, it’s going to be red-tagged because imbalance is a bigger danger than power loss to an aircraft.”
“Interesting.”
“For a machine that big and dangerous-looking, planes are extremely sensitive. A tiny insect nest can cause major air speed errors.”
