King Bro nods once, and I’m surprised he doesn’t beat his chest to claim his territory.
“You interested in switching?” Prince Charming points back, a few aisles up. “I’m right there on the aisle. Extra legroom.”
King Bro looks to me. “This guy bothering you?”
I can’t help but let out a chuckle. “Uh, no.”
King Bro eyes Prince Charming.
And then Prince Charming gives him a grin—the kind that works on every living thing. “Just wanting to catch up with an old friend.”
King Bro laughs. “Well, bro, don’t let me stop you! Exsqueeze me,” he says as he stretches over the woman in the aisle. He lifts his head to me briefly. “Sorry, babe. Legroom calls!”
You know, theexsqueeze mehad almost endeared him to me, but then he had to go and call me babe.
After a quick bag switch, Prince Charming is settling in next to me, and my mind begins to sputter about all the ways my heavyset hips might encroach on his space.
“I can put the armrest back down if you want,” I tell him, already picturing the bruise it will leave on my thigh.
“Nah, I’m good.” He reaches down between his legs and under his own seat, feeling around with a thoughtful expression on his face.
“Everything good down there?”
A sheepish expression passes over his face. “I…was checking for a life jacket.”
I lean a little closer and whisper, “You know we’re flying over an uninterrupted continent, right?”
“We could go down over a lake,” he says very seriously. “Or a river. An exceptionally wide river. You don’t know.”
I hold my hands up. “Fair.”
“It’s not that neurotic,” he says defensively. “I just want to be prepared.”
I check under my seat quickly. “Tip-top shape here.”
“Oh, if you think this is dramatic on my part, you should see me on a helicopter. I would rather lie naked in a pit of scorpions.”
“That’s…a visual,” I say, unable to ignore the warmth in my cheeks at the thought of him naked.
“Who would even want to fly on a helicopter? If that propeller goes, you’re done.”
“They’re like the motorcycles of the sky,” I say, egging him on a little.
“Yes! Thank you. Well, now that you know my deepest fear, I can officially trust you to help me with my drop-down mask when the time comes.”
“I swear to properly apply mine and then help all the surrounding children, yourself included.”
“Thanks.” His grin sparkles.
I feel that eager twitch in my chest like when your sense of humor perfectly aligns with someone else’s. It’s like scrolling through radio stations. Static, static, static, and then suddenly—click!—they’re on the right wavelength.
We sit there for a few moments, completely silent, staring blankly into the screens on the seat backs in front of us. Finally, the woman on the aisle snorts before putting her headphones back in and returning to her crossword.
“Extra legroom? Is that all?” I ask. “You look like a first-class kind of guy.” And he really does in his crisp white T-shirt, fitted dark jeans, olive-green bomber, and a pair of sneakers from a small brand out of Australia that is about to explode.
“Well, since you mention it, I was in business, but missed my first flight, so I took what I could get.”
I groan. “There’s nothing good about missing a flight.”
