“No can do, Mads,” I say with a smirk. “Middle seat, 14B. Lucky you.”
Her eyes narrow. “What? How…did you do that on purpose?”
“Let’s just call it fate.”
She shakes her head. “I can’t believe I agreed to this.”
“I’m glad you did.” She rolls her eyes at me when she hears the nickname. I grin. Mission accomplished.
The announcement for boarding comes over the intercom and she immediately straightens, tucking her phone into her pocket. “We should line up.”
“After you,” I say, gesturing toward the queue.
She gives me a look—somewhere between suspicion and resignation—and steps forward. I fall in line behind her, already amused at how tightly she’s wound before we’ve even boarded.
This trip is going to be very entertaining.
A flight attendant’s voice drones through the speakers, rattling off the safety briefing no one’s actually listening to.
I know I’m not. All I can focus on is her.
Madeline sits beside me, spine straight, belt clipped, the picture of composure except for one tell: her knee bounces, just slightly. A quick, rhythmic movement that gives her away. She’s anxious and while I’d like to think it’s me that has her off balance, I’m starting to wonder if she has a fear of flying.
I lean back, pretending to study the laminated safety card just to stop myself from staring too openly. The faint scent of her shampoo drifts between us—grapefruit, a little floral—and it makes me want to know what brand it is.
For once, I’m grateful for the cramped airplane seats that leave barely an inch between us. Her arm brushes mine when she adjusts her seatbelt, and the contact sparks through me like static electricity.
She exhales slowly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, oblivious to the chaos she’s creating inside my head. I tell myself to look away, to focus on anything else but her, but then her knee begins to bounce again, and it’s over. Every nerve in my body feels wired to hers.
“Relax,” I murmur, glancing sideways. “We haven’t even left the ground yet.”
She shoots me a look. “Iamrelaxed.”
“Right.” I smirk. “That’s why you’re vibrating like a phone on silent.”
“Maybe your presence just has that effect on people,” she mutters, eyes fixed on the seat in front of her.
“I’ll take it as a compliment.”
Madeline sighs beside me. “Of course you would.”
She sounds annoyed, but I catch her forcing down a small smile and I feel a rush of satisfaction that I distracted her from her anxiety.
She stares at the seat-back in front of her, one knee bouncing, until the plane reaches altitude. Only then do I sense some of the tension leave her body. Her shoulders lower just slightly, her knee settles itself.
I swipe my phone to life and then reach down and hit the recline button on my seat. Immediately, she stiffens again.
“What are you doing?” she demands, head whipping to look at me.
“Uh, relaxing? What areyoudoing?”
“You’re not seriously going to recline your seat.”
I glance at her, feigning confusion. “Why wouldn’t I recline my seat? That’s what the button’s for.”
She blinks at me like I’ve just committed a crime. “It’s basic airplane etiquette, Jesse.”
“Etiquette?” I echo. “So, the button’s just…decorative?”
