“Yup,” I whisper.
He laughs at me and pats my head like I’m Brutus, then lowers his mouth over mine, stops just before our lips touch.
“Get your bag, liar,” he says into my mouth.
His lips find mine and his arms wrap around me and just like that, the shell of my lie cracks and crumbles while a new truth pecks its way out into the light. Am I ready for this? I’m ready for anything if he’s here beside me.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Jeff
Lesson 40: Tell her.
Devon is doing remarkably well for an un-drugged, self-proclaimed “terrible traveler.” Though it could be the upgraded business class seats—excuse me, cabins—that are keeping her somewhat serene. I wanted this experience to be less stressful for her and it was worth it to see her reaction as she blinked back tears and told me I shouldn’t have. But as amazing as the seats are with their lie-flat feature, private stocked mini-bar, and widescreen TVs, there is an unfortunate divider between our “cabins” that prevents Devon from curling into my side for the two-and-a-half-hour flight.
She’s been unusually quiet since I showed up in her classroom. Devon is many things, but silent is rarely one of them. Her foot is tapping against the plastic that separates us, the only sign of her nerves that I can find while she listens tosomething through the plush noise-cancelling headphones the airline provided. She nods and shuts her eyes, agreeing with whoever is speaking in her ears. She pulls her lip between her teeth, chews on it thoughtfully. I nearly climb over the divider.
Her eyes open and she meets my gaze. Slides her headphones back around her neck.
“Hi,” she whispers.
“Hey.”
She reaches her hand over the partition and I take it, playing with the bracelets that dangle at her wrist.
“Who’s talking to you over there?” I ask.
She lifts her phone off her lap and presses the screen, so her Coursera app pops up. It’s not the first time I’ve caught her taking courses. She’s told me how much she loves to learn. This time it’s a Science of Happiness series.
“Doctor Eleanor Basantis,” I read. “She’s the one you mentioned on our first not-a-date.”
She nods.
I wait for her to go on. She knocks on the partition. Sits up on her knees so she can see me completely over top of it.
“Can you get the stewardess to remove this thing?” she asks.
I smile as she grips the divider and gives it a shake, like she might be able to loosen it and lift it from between us. A flight attendant passes and gives Devon a strange look. She lifts her palms upward in surrender.
“Tell me about the lecture before you get us thrown off the plane,” I tell her.
“Could they do that?”
“Yup.”
“Ok. Well, this woman I told you about—Dr. Basantis—saw a spike in mental health issues in her high-achieving students some years back and recognized a need for something new. Something that would benefit her pupils for the long run.” Herhands are flying as she speaks, her eyes bright and alive. “So, she designed this course that basically reinvents the way you think. It challenges all the norms that society has traditionally accepted about happiness. It’s had the highest enrollment in the history of her school. She’s incredible.”
“And what science is she using?” I ask. I could listen to her talk about this for hours. The way every word is infused with her passion for the subject. I’ve grown accustomed to her fire. It warms me.
“Neuroscience. Studies from UCLA. Harvard. Princeton. NIMH. Ummmm. Other major research facilities. Do you want to listen with me?”
Her lips are parted while she waits, brows lifted like she’s just asked me to take her to prom.
“Yeah. I do,” I tell her. And she actually bounces a little in her seat. Even if I wasn’t interested—which I am—that reaction would have been enough to sit through hours of tedium.
She starts to root around her purse for her splitter, muttering into the bag at her feet. “You’re coming into the game a little late; I’m nearing the end of her lessons. Top of the fifth inning?—”
“Bottom of the ninth,” I correct.
