‘I am, actually.’
‘I’m glad to see that taking the piss out of me is bringing you such pleasure.’
I’m tutting at this when a member of the cabin crew offers us hot drinks. I decide to accept a coffee, because more caffeine will definitely help with whatever’s going on here. The way Callumsaid my name made me feel, I don’t know,things. Clearly the altitude is playing havoc with my system, I deduce, tearing the lid off a little pot of milk and pouring it into the cup. There’s not nearly enough to make a proper milky coffee, which is the kind of comforting beverage I need right now.
Callum, meanwhile, hasn’t even opened his little milk and is already drinking his tea. Black. Who drinks black tea?! I can get on board with black coffee, for sure, but black tea? Only for psychopaths, surely.
Which tracks.
‘Could I—’ I begin, pointing at his milk.
He deliberately pretends not to know what I’m doing, because he is obtuse and aggravating and the very worst.
‘Hmm?’ he says with a questioning look as he drinks from his cup of devil’s brew.
‘May I—’ I don’t know why I’m being so British about this.
Just get a sentence out, Nina!
Callum’s brows shoot up as I continue to stab a finger in the direction of his tray.
‘Are you drinking that milk?’ I finally manage.
At that completely innocuous question, Callum’s entire face darkens, and a storm cloud settles right above his head.
‘Nice,’ he says crossly. ‘Really nice.’
See! I told you he was a psychopath! Ask for some milk and get that response? Insane.
‘Nice?’ I snap back. ‘I was just asking if you’d be using your milk because if not, I’d be very grateful if I could have it. But clearly, that’s way too much to ask. Don’t you worry, Callum! Don’t even consider inconveniencing yourself the tiniest bit to hand over a small pot of milk. I’m so sorry I asked!’
Instead of looking suitably chastised, Callum is shaking his head at me likeI’vedone something wrong. So now we’re staring at each other, me in self-righteous rage, him in apparent disbelief.
‘You’re the worst, Moss,’ Callum says, delivering the milk onto my tray with evident distaste.
Unbelievable!
‘You’re the worst,’ I hit back, incredibly confused. What just happened there? Why do I always feel like I’m on wobbly ground with this man? One minute he’s being almost human and the next? Welcome back, Hades. Well, I refuse to be Persephone in this set-up.
‘I’m going to get back to my romcom,’ he grunts.
‘I—’ I begin, ready to get in another retort, but Callum’s already putting his earphones in. I stare at him, basically dumbstruck. But before he totally tunes out, he turns to me and says, ‘It’s Cal.’
‘Sorry?’
‘It’s Cal. If we’re going to be pedantic about names, then I would much prefer it if you called me Cal.’ And with that, he’s tuned out.
I’m smarting from the pedantic comment for so long that the rest of the film passes by in a total blur. Seriously, what is up with Callum Bang? Sorry, Cal, I think irritably. Although there’s no way I’m calling him that. I will be sticking to his full name because every time I say it, it sounds distinctly like he’s in trouble. Which he basically always is.
In trouble for being a terrible human being.
It absolutely sucks that I’m stuck sitting next to him, too. His aura is so … grating.
I unplug my earphones and look around. The lights have been dimmed. The divorcee behind us is still snoring away. I should probably try to get some sleep too. Quick bathroom trip first, I decide, grateful that the extra legroom means I can step past Callum without having to ask him to move his stupid long legs. A small win. Although it’s at this point that I realise I need my washbag, which is in the overhead locker.
Summoning all the strength I can find, I tap Callum on the shoulder.
He turns to look at me.
