She doesn’t seem to notice my eyes on her or that she’s the reason I answer, “It’s a great trip so far.”
Chapter Seven
Claire
Aren’t wealldreamers? It’s only because mandreamt offlying that wearetraveling inplanes. Behind allinventions, weseethedreams ofpeople.
—AJITHKUMAR
Now on our fourth leg of the day, I’m feeling more confident in tasks—I’m just too exhausted to want to do them anymore. In fact, I’m ready to hijack the plane myself to land sooner.
While passengers slept for most of our first flight, the following flights to San Luis Obispo, San Francisco, then back to San Luis Obispo are too short for passengers to fall asleep. They’re even too short for Desiree to get out her cart for service in the main cabin. I’m the only one running around, trying to serve twelve first-class drinks between making announcements and picking up trash.
Okay, Desiree offers to help by picking up trash in my cabin, but as she’s not about speed, she mostly just gets in the way. I turned down her offer after that first flight to SBP and let her hang out in the aft galley, eating her meal-prepped lunch and joking with passengers. Meanwhile, my stomach is growling loudly.
The cute guy in 1A looks up at the sound. “You hungry?” He cracks a crooked grin under his crooked nose. “If you’re staying in San Luis Obispo tonight, I’d be happy to take you out for dinner.”
I pick up his empty glass, place it on my tray, and wonder whether his crooked nose means it was broken courtesy of the last tired flight attendant he’d hit on. At the moment, I’d rather punch him than talk to him, which means it’s probably a good thing Wyatt decided not to meet me in San Fran.
Boyfriend in mind, I say, “I’m already dating someone.”
“Lucky guy.” He winks one of those winks that makes me want to pretend I didn’t see it.
I turn away so he doesn’t notice my eye roll. Then I secure the galley one last time and buckle in for landing. I should have waited longer before sitting, since it means facing 1A.
Focusing past the cringey guy, I evidently zone out, because before I know it, we’re on the ground and Desiree is making our landing announcements. During the time it takes the gate agents to push a ramp over for deboarding, I debate between ordering a room service hamburger or tacos for dinner. I’m leaning toward the tacos, though with all my waffling, waffles are sounding good too.
I’d brought a three-dollar salad from the grocery store for dinner, but it’s not going to cut it. And since I don’t have to maintain a dancer’s figure anymore, I can splurge on calories.
A gate agent pulls the cabin door wide, and I inhale fresh air. It’s still light out, but the breeze is cool enough to feel refreshing against a sheen of sweat on my face.
“If you want to upgrade, gorgeous, I’m staying at Sea Pines Golf Resort.” Mr. Arrogant swings a backpack over his shoulder. “Just call and ask for Andrew James.”
I paste on a smile and step away to allow him plenty of room to disembark. His egotism is the opposite of attractive.
The door to the cockpit swings open, and Nathan steps out next to me. “I need passengers to compliment my landing for points,” he sidewhispers. Whatever that means. Then something else snags his attention. “Was that Andrew James?”
I do a double take too, but to look at Nathan. “Yeah ... How’d you know?”
“He’s the quarterback for the Forty-Niners.”
Huh. Might explain the guy’s egotism.
I nod goodbye to more departing passengers. “Have a good day. Thanks for flying with us.”
An older gentleman in a “Veteran” ball cap compliments Nathan on his way past. “Nice landing.”
The man doesn’t say anything to me because I basically become invisible once there’s a pilot by my side—one of my first-day discoveries. But that’s okay. It makes my job a little easier.
“Thanks. And thanks for your service.” Nathan lifts a hand in part wave, part salute. Then he says with a dumbfounded smile, “Did you talk to him?”
“The veteran?” I wish. I bet he has some good stories to tell.
“Andrew James.”
I grimace. Do I tell the first officer what I think of his hero? Would it even change his opinion of the athlete, or is that acceptable male behavior to fans? “Unfortunately.”
Nathan’s jaw drops open, pulling his face closer to mine. He smells exotic, like teakwood, making me wonder about his international travels. He has an all-American look with the short hair, but with his dark coloring, he’d fit in almost anywhere in the world. Now that I think about it, I don’t know his heritage, how long he’s been flying, where he learned self-defense, or any other basic details. All I know is that he’s still in love with his ex-girlfriend. And my heart goes out to him because of it.
