‘Looks like there’s no 31B,’ comments Captain Obvious, slinging his rucksack into the storage compartment above our heads.
I make a clicking noise in response.
‘Did you know we were travelling premium economy?’ Callum asks animatedly. ‘Looks like we got the extra legroom seats as well.’
‘I did not,’ I mutter, but I’m drowned out by one of the hens boarding shortly after us.
‘A tall drink like you wouldn’t cope with the standard legroom,’ she purrs, squeezing past Callum to reach the seats directly behind ours. I can’t keep the smirk off my face as I watch him react to yet more blatant flirting. His cheeks go pink and he pushes his hair up and off his forehead, looking like he’s casting around for an escape route.
‘It would definitely be trickier,’ Callum eventually settles on politely. The bride – at least that’s my best guess as she’s the only one wearing a sash – gives Callum a lingering look as she settles in behind us, like a panther eyeing up breakfast. It’s at this point that I realise her sash reads ‘the end of an error’ and all the peoplein her group have the words ‘we never liked him anyway’ on their T-shirts. A divorce party! Even better, I decide gleefully. Callum really is going to have his hands full this flight.
‘Moss?’ he says, and I realise that I still haven’t committed to sitting down. If I pretend it isn’t happening, maybe a third seat will magic up out of nowhere? Or, more likely, Callum and I will be sitting next to each other for the next thirteen hours until we land at our layover in Singapore.
Thirteen hours of Callum Bang. Dear God.
‘Yep,’ I say, making a show of shuffling closer to my window seat while still not actually sitting down. I should focus on how fancy premium economy is, I decide. That’ll take my mind off things. We’re sitting right at the front of the plane, for a start. Naturally Cody are travelling business so they boarded first and are luxuriating somewhere up on the top deck, probably with their own beds and maybe even a shower? Still, this is really nice. I would never say this out loud but Callum is right, we have got the extra legroom seats. I size up the space and imagine an alternative world where I definitely get up every hour to stretch and do yoga mid-flight.
The only slight snag with this seat (other than the obvious, human male-sized problem looming next to me) is that I won’t have access to my bag during take-off. I start pulling out some essentials (lip balm, book, phone) and shoving them into a smaller bag to keep with me. Within minutes my seat is filled with my own crap, stuff everywhere, and I have no idea where I’m going to stash the airline pillow and blanket we’ve been given.
I pause, suddenly aware that eyes are on me.
‘Want a hand?’ asks Callum. He has an entertained look on his face as he watches me.
‘No, thank you,’ I say primly. Finally wrangling everything but the essentials back into my weekend bag, I wait for a gap in the boarding passengers and step back out into the aisle, trying and failing to reach the handle for the overhead bins. At five foot one,I find most things were not designed for people of my stature. Tiptoes won’t do it. A sort of running jump won’t either.
Callum clears his throat and sighs as if exasperated by my existence.
‘Please, let me,’ he says, stepping out and opening up the locker in one easy move. I go to hoist my bag into the spot but I wobble, nearly dropping it on the passengers behind.
‘Here,’ he says, easing the bag out of my hands and effortlessly slotting it into place next to his.
‘I was doing that,’ I say.
‘Not very well. And you’re welcome.’
‘I didn’t say thank you.’
‘I noticed.’
‘Next time, I’ll ask if I need help.’
‘Jesus, Moss,’ he exhales. ‘You’re impossible sometimes, do you know that?’
I give Callum an incredulous look. ‘I’mimpossible? Have you tried looking in the mirror? Wait, I’m sorry, that was rude of me. Sometimes I forget that vampires don’t have reflections.’
Callum clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth and looks like he is searching for strength. ‘I was just trying to help,’ he huffs. ‘You were about to drop your ridiculously enormous bag, after all.’
‘Oh no, nuh-uh, you don’t get to be critical of my amazing new weekend bag, Callum. It has a special zip section at the bottom for laundry!’
‘I feel like we’re veering off point?’ Callum folds his arms.
‘Please, continue.’ I roll my eyes.
‘I’m just saying that a little gratitude wouldn’t go amiss.’
‘You swooping in doing things unasked is the problem here,’ I say.
Callum lets out a frustrated exhale.
