‘Must you manspread all over the place?’ I ask churlishly as we settle into our seats.
‘These legs have got to go somewhere.’
‘Perhaps they could walk you right off the plane?’ I suggest, slowly and deliberately taking up as much space as possible with my own legs by way of retaliation. Only I quickly realise that my small frame means I don’t have nearly as much leg to play with. So, in an attempt to manspread right back at him, I end up slinking down in my seat to try and reach my legs out.
Callum watches me with something like amusement written across his face.
‘Pleased with yourself?’ he asks once I’ve stretched my right leg as far into his space as possible.
‘Very.’
‘You’re actually in my space.’
‘These legs have got to go somewhere,’ I parrot.
It’s at this point that I realize my leg is actually pressed up against his and now my whole body is vibrating in response. How is it possible to dislike someone so much while simultaneously feeling so utterly attracted to them? Because, let’s face it, that’s exactly where I am right now. Everything he does makes me bristle with irritationandtemptation. Every look makes that flame burn brighter. I track my gaze up to the soft cotton of his sweatpants, watch him lean forward to give the briefest glimpse of bare back above waistband before he sits back. Turns that gaze onto me, which seems to pin me right to the spot. I’m powerless to move.
I’m also worried that my tongue might be hanging directly out of my mouth.
‘Moss?’
‘Bang?’ I reply, and I wish saying his surname like that didn’t sound so much like an invite.
‘Just checking in,’ he says, gaze snagging on my lips.
‘What?’
‘You’ve got a stray eyelash.’ He nods towards my mouth, his pupils dilating.
I run a finger along my lips, trying to find it.
Callum’s jawline tenses.
‘Did I get it?’
He shakes his head. ‘You mind if I …’ he offers.
‘Sure,’ I whisper, voice catching in my throat.
He reaches his hand towards me, his thumb brushing oh-so lightly across the top of my lip. I close my eyes for the briefest moment as the sensation of his touch fills up every single part of me.
‘There,’ he says, watching me closely as he holds out his thumb, tiny eyelash balanced on it. ‘You should make a wish.’
Yes, I should. I should wish to escape this never-ending Monday. I should wish for things to go well with Hamish so that I can finally get out of here. I should wish for world peace and also for my hair to look this great every single day.
I wish for none of those things.
As I lean forward, ready to blow the lash off Callum’s thumb, I lock my gaze on his for a moment before I make the wish. I see that his lips have parted slightly as he watches me, Adam’s apple bobbing. I see the flicker of something in his own eyes. And as I bat my lids shut, I wonder if he’s feeling the same conflicting emotions as I am. If he’s just as attracted to me as vice versa. And I’m wondering, now that I’ve stepped firmly into my fuck-it era, if I should somehow capitalize on that. I blow a steady stream of air across Callum’s thumb. My bottom lip accidentally, and ever sogently, brushes the tip of his finger which does wild, wild things to my insides.
I make my wish and open my eyes.
Watch as he stares intently back at me.
‘What did you wish for?’ he asks, voice gravelly.
You. Just for one day. Just to scratch this itch.
I’m weighing up whether to tell him as much when we’re rudely interrupted.
