He blinks. “Huh?”
“The no-honeymoon thing. Pick somewhere, literally anywhere, and we’ll go this year.”
Jace turns in his seat as much as the belt will allow and just stares at me for a few seconds, eyes shining.
“Are you serious?”
“Of course.”
“There’s no way you can take that much time off work,” he hedges, already half-talking himself out of it.
“I can work from anywhere if we need to. But work will still be there when we get back, and Olivia totally proved she can handle running things while I’m gone. I’ll treat her to all the Botox and massages she wants, as long as we can get some time to ourselves. Come on, babe, it’ll be fun!”
His lips slowly curve into a smile. “Okay. Let me think about where we should go.”
“Yeah, we don’t have to decide right away.” I brush my thumb over his knuckles. “For now, we’re doing a mini pre-honeymoon in Vegas. Let’s hope we survive this first with Blake and Chad in charge.”
His grin turns downright mischievous. “Do I get honeymoon-level sex or is this, like, bachelor-party-level sex?”
“I’m gonna need you to explain the difference,” I say with a laugh. “Either way, it absolutely involves a flip fuck.”
“Bachelor party seems dirtier, honeymoon sex seems romantic?—”
“Wait, what’s a flip fuck?” Chad interrupts Jace’s explanation as he pops his head over the seat in front of us.
I close my eyes and whisper, “Oh, for fuck’s sake, Chad.”
As Jace mutters, “Oh my god.” Jace’s face is bright red in approximately half a second. “We… we were just joking?—”
“No, don’t you dare rob me of this,” Chad says, gripping the top of our seat like he’s about to climb over. “I’ve only ever heard that phrase on, like, X and in TikTok thirst traps. I didn’t know it was something real people actually did.”
“Chad,” I beg. “Sit. Down. This is so not the place for this conversation.”
But I can already see his mind spinning with questions. John is right beside him on the aisle, staringstraight ahead as he mutters something under his breath that sounds a lot like “How did I end up next to him?”
“So wait,” Chad continues, oblivious to the embarrassment he’s causing the rest of our group. “Does ‘flip fuck’ mean you flip each other mid-sex? Like gymnastics? Or, oh my god, do you do a somersault while you’re inside each other?”
John groans next to him. “Why am I here?”
Across the aisle, Blake perks up excitedly. “Flip fuck? With who? Chad! Why do you keep talking about dicks today?”
“Oh, for the love of—” Liam drops his forehead to the seat back in front of him.
Chad points dramatically at us before answering far too loudly. “They said they’re gonna flip fuck in Vegas!”
“Can you pipe down?” I borderline scold him. “We’re on an airplane, Chad! Filter yourself.”
“Fine. But you’re the one who said it,” Chad shoots back, huge smile on his face like maybe I’d forgotten and he was helping me, instead of drawing way too much attention to us before the plane has even taken off.
“We should flip fuck,” Blake says to Liam without bothering to lower his volume either, as if none of this is odd to him.
Chad nods enthusiastically. “Yes. It’s your bachelor party, bro, you should do whatever you want. Also, is flip effing hard physically?” He pats his stomach. “I’ve got good core muscles, though, so I bet I’d be fine.”
“Why would you be—?” I start to ask, because before today, I was fairly certain Blake had told us Chad wasstraight, but I bite the question back because it’s none of my business.
John turns his head with the slow, murderous precision of a man who’s dealt with more than enough. “Can we stop saying flip fuck on the goddamn plane?”
“I did! I said flip effing, Grumpy. And since no one is explaining it to me, I was just betting I could do it. Look how flexible I am already!” Chad tries to kick his leg up to fold into the small seat. We might be in first class, but we’re still on a plane, and he is not a small person.
