Page 3

Desperate for a distraction, I reach for my tote under the seat in front of me and pull out my laptop. Positioning it on the foldout table, I flip up the screen and type in my password.

My browser window opens and automatically starts playing the video I was watching last night—a video that happens to be a gang bang. A tied-up woman being railed by three guys appears on the screen. Grunting, moaning, and slapping noises fill the cabin, loud enough to be heard over the humming of the engine.

Overcome with panic, I move to slap the screen shut, but in my haste I don’t hit it right, and instead of closing it all the way, I swipe it from the table. It lands on the floor just as one of the actors groans, “Her ass is so fucking tight.”

Mortified, I rush to grab my computer and finally turn it off. The video cuts out, but the damage is done. Mr. Handsome Pants’s eyes are wide and trained on me. His lips are pulled up in a panty-melting grin.

I look past him at an older lady on the other side of the aisle. She looks even more shocked than I feel, clutching her chest like she is about to have a heart attack.

The flight attendant comes rushing down toward us, carrying my third glass of wine. With fake politeness, she asks, “Could you please keep that turned down?”

“I’m sorry about that. It’s a computer virus, actually,” I lie. “Happens all the time. I’ve got to take it to my IT guy ASAP.”

She nods, handing me my wine. I want to die of embarrassment. I wish this plane would actually crash just so I don’t have to look at these people anymore.

I finish my drink in no time, letting the alcohol do its job and calm me down. I manage to relax after a bit, noticing the guy next to me has gone back to sleep. But now I have a different problem. I have to go pee.

Damn you, tiny bladder. Though I did have three glasses of wine, so maybe this one’s on me.

Unbuckling myself, I stand up and carefully lift my leg to step over my neighbor’s stretched-out ones. Just when my left foot meets the ground, and I am basically straddling him, his eyes open.

“Need some help?” he teases.

“Nope!” I swing my other leg over his lap, stumbling into the aisle before speed walking to the lavatory.

I take my time in the tiny restroom, dreading facing Muscle Man again. I even entertain the idea of hiding out in here for the rest of the flight, but decide that would be a waste. I paid extra for first class, after all.

Gathering the little bit of courage I have left, I make my way back to my seat. The guy doesn’t offer to get up when I approach, so I awkwardly climb over his lap once more.

“I would like to tell you that was the only time I will need to get up, but I have a tiny bladder and go pee all the time,” I reveal before forcing myself to shut up.

Fastening my seat belt once more, I recline the seat as far as it will go and close my eyes. Maybe sleep will save me from the current nightmare I’m in.

I don’t have much hope of finding rest, but the alcohol makes it easier to doze off. Just as I thought. Before I know it, my world turns dark, and the last thing I remember is hoping I don’t snore.

Chapter Two

Adrian

She’s sleeping. There hasn’t been a quirky outburst or awkward admission in at least ten minutes.

Thank God. I thought I was going to have to sit here pretending to be asleep for the rest of the flight just so she’d leave me the hell alone.

Why is it that some people refuse to pay attention to social cues? I’ve been around the world and can gladly report that most people are fine with them. There’s an unspoken social contract at play. If you’re about to share space with a complete stranger for hours on end, you give them a polite nod, try not to invade their personal space, and you mind your own fucking business. It’s not that difficult.

I guess life wouldn’t be life if there weren’t people like the one sitting next to me now. The blabbermouth who forgot to hit stop on her graphic video before packing her laptop. I have to admit, there isn’t much in this world that can make me laugh. She managed it.

I would never have expected it from someone like her; she’s the picture of innocence with those big blue eyes. But then, still waters run deep.

What would she do if I explained in detail exactly how unamusing my life happens to be? How rarely I meet anyone who so much as makes me crack a grin? Granted, the dead aren’t notorious for their comedic timing.

It doesn’t matter now. She’s asleep, and I’m hoping the wine she drank means I’ll get a little peace and quiet for the rest of the flight. I wonder if I could set her up with an IV to keep pumping it into her system. Sort of an insurance policy.

I need to relax. If anything, I should thank the girl who’s now snoring softly next to me. She gave me an excuse to settle back, to close my eyes. It’s rare that I take the time. It’s even rarer that the opportunity presents itself. When I sleep, it’s generally done with one eye open. There’s no such thing as being too careful in my line of work.

Slowly, I stretch my legs in front of me and shift in my seat. Thank you, whoever invented first class. It’s the only way to fly when you’re my size. I’ve inflicted an amount of pain most living people can’t conceive of, but I can’t imagine anything worse than being cramped in a coach seat with a stranger’s wailing baby practically in my lap.

Oh wait. There is one thing that could be worse . . . and that’s the woman sitting next to me.