I shrug. “I don’t know. The airport’s kind of fun.”
“Oh yeah. The disgruntled TSA agents, carcinogenic x-ray machines, and oblivious commuters are a realblast.” He shakes his head. “We should go to the lounge. I hate being surrounded by this many people.”
I glance around the terminal, watching all the people coming and going. “The lounge sounds cool, I guess, but I think we should stay out here.”
“Why would we do that?”
“People watching,” I say, like it’s obvious. “It’s just so crazy when you realize everyone’s traveling to a different place. It’s kind of fun to guess where.”
He peeks over at me and gives me a funny look. And then, without warning, he starts laughing. For a moment, the stress vanishes from his face, leaving a relaxed, carefree expression I rarely get to see, and his shoulders shake with each genuine chuckle. I’m completely enthralled by him, which is dumb. I don’t even care that he’s laughing at my expense, which is dumber.
“What’s so funny?”
“Nothing,” he says, shaking his head. “You’re just…a funny person.”
I roll my eyes, unsure if I should take offense. “You have a weird sense of humor.”
He shakes his head and sighs. “Alright, fine. We’ll stay out here.”
“Thank you.”
He casts a forlorn glance at the laptop sticking out of his bag. “With two hours to kill, I should do more work.”
“But do you really want toworkwhen there’s a bar right there? And look. That dude’s eating nachos.Nachos,Landon.”
It doesn’t take as much convincing as I anticipated to lure him to the restaurant, and he relaxes a bit after a beer. We kill time people watching, making a game of guessing who they are and where they’re going, and when there are only ten minutes left until boarding, we head to the gate.
“Nervous?” he asks, noticing me shift as the gate attendant starts calling sections.
“Excited,” I admit.
“You can have the window seat if you want.”
I perk up, eyeing him in disbelief. “Seriously?”
“Sure, why not?” Landon smirks, his dark eyes twinkling with something almost like affection. But no. Surely, it’s not that. I banish the thought because I can’t afford to think that way.
My heart can’t take it.
Landon booked us first-class tickets, even though I’d be happy anywhere. We’re in one of the initial groups to board the plane, and he tucks our carry-on bags overhead with little effort, stepping aside to let me in. The seats are amazingly spacious and cushy, and I lean back, my knee bouncing in anticipation as I watch a safety protocol video on the screen in front of me.
Before long, the plane circles the tarmac and accelerates into takeoff, which is smoother than I imagined it would be. I hardly even realize we’re in the air until I glance out the window and see nothing but clouds. Amazed, I snap a few pictures with my phone, which makes Landon snicker beside me. I shoot him a look.
“What? We’re in a flying metal hot dog right now. Ihaveto take photos.”
He huffs, shaking his head at me. “If you say so, Violet.”
Landon breaks out his laptop and proceeds to work for most of the flight, so I watch an in-flight movie. About thirty minutes in, the plane dips abruptly, and my hand shoots out to grip the armrest between us, only to find Landon’s hand already there. I start to pull away, but he grabs my hand and squeezes it.
“It’s turbulence,” he murmurs. “It’ll pass.”
I nod, surprised when he holds my hand until the plane levels out again. I don’t want him to let go, not ever, but of course, he does, and my heart gives a painful squeeze I try to ignore.
The sun is setting by the time we land, and I follow Landon’s lead as we deboard the plane and trek through the airport. It’s even bigger and more confusing than the one in Florida, and I’m grateful I’m not doing this alone. We take an Uber to the hotel, and I swallow a yawn as we approach the front desk.
“Good evening. Checking in?” asks the concierge, a middle-aged man with salt-and-pepper hair.
Landon nods, rolling his suitcase up beside him. “Reservation’s under Landon Blair. Two rooms.”
