‘Could you grab my bag for me. Please?’ I ask through gritted teeth.
‘That sounded painful,’ he retorts.
Then he stands next to me, reaching up to open the locker. As he moves, I get a waft of this intoxicating fresh citrus smell. It’s so good my lids flutter shut and I take a deep inhale. When I open them again, he’s watching me. Mortifying. I find myself trying to style it out by muttering about yogic breathing on flights, which one hundred per cent does not work.
Callum is definitely still giving me curious looks.
In silence, he hands me my bag and waits patiently while I reach inside.
‘Thank you so much,’ I say pointedly as I pass it back. He reaches to slot the bag back in the locker and in doing so, his T-shirt rides up to expose a waist I’d like to take a bite out of.
It is deeply unfair that my arch nemesis looks and smells like this.
‘Happy to help,’ he smiles at me, green eyes twinkling.
I scurry off to the toilet.
The nearest bathrooms are at the back of premium economy but when I pull back the curtain between this section and economy I can’t see any sign of Hamish, so I decide to go and explore the toilets further down the plane. The gentle thrumming noise of the aircraft accompanies my walk, and I keep scanning the seats.
I still haven’t spotted Hamish by the time I reach the bathrooms, and there are a couple of people standing in line, so I do some stretching while I wait. It’s as I’m quietly lunging, trying not to look like a maniac, that I finally see him.
My heart skips a beat.
Hamish is sitting on the other end of a central row of four, an empty seat between him and another passenger on my side of the row. The lights are low, and just a handful of people in this part ofthe cabin are still awake, illuminated by the glow of the screens in front of them.
But Hamish is sleeping. He has a travel pillow around his neck, his head leaning against one side of his seat. I honestly can’t believe he’s really here. After all these years, it feels so strange to be in the same place at the same time as the man I once thought I’d spend my future with. We were once so close that we instinctively knew what the other was thinking. We’d spend endless nights with my friends at the beach, playing card games where you’d describe the word on the card to your partner without saying that word. Even playing against mates who’d been friends for years, couples who’d been together far longer than we had, Hamish and I always won. We just shared a wavelength.
I’m longing to talk to him now, but even if he were awake, I’d struggle to get to him because the passenger on this side of his row is sleeping too. I feel almost giddy as my gaze flicks back to him, a sense of possibility building in my stomach. I cannot wait to see how he is after all these years.
A bathroom becomes free and I step inside the tiny space. Time for some skincare! A brief glimpse in the mirror confirms my worst fears, I look travel-weary at best. My eyes are a delightful mix of puffy and bloodshot, which simply will not do for my romantic reunion with Hamish. I clean my teeth, cleanse my skin and smooth on some moisturizer which instantly makes me feel brighter.
As I head back to my seat, I take an eye mask out of my washbag and tuck the bag in next to me so as not to disturb the devil himself again. I’ll have to ask him to stow it before landing, but that can be a fun problem for Future Me. Once I’m sitting down, I tuck myself in with the airline blanket. It’s not the comfiest, but my whole body feels exhausted and I stifle a yawn. Time to catch some sleep and dream of Hamish.
‘Can’t sleep?’ Callum asks an hour later, after I’ve spent a full sixty minutes fidgeting in my seat, failing to get comfy.
I stretch my legs out in frustration. ‘Nope.’
‘Me neither,’ he says, rotating his neck from side to side. ‘Can’t seem to switch off.’
‘Same,’ I reply. ‘And I can’t cope with watching another film.’
‘Likewise.’ Callum nods.
Both of us look around, as if seeking inspiration for something else to do. The lights are still dipped and everyone else seems to be resting. By now all the divorce squad have passed out, splayed out across each other in their seats.
‘Maybe they had the right idea,’ Callum suggests, following my gaze.
‘What’s that, drink yourself to sleep?’
‘I might try it on the return journey.’
‘At this point I’d be willing to give anything a go.’
‘Have you seenBridesmaids?’ he asks.
‘Of course. Haveyou?’
‘Don’t sound so surprised,’ Callum grins. ‘I told you I like a romcom. I’m picturing the plane scene.’
