Page 71 of Summer Haze & Tokyo Craze
"Alright," Adam concedes, and I snuggle back into his side, willing the voices in my head to calm down.
Suddenly, I'm wide awake, acutely aware of his presence next to me – the way his body moves with each breath under my cheek, his fingers tracing small circles on my upper arm and his breath blowing against the top of my head.
I wish I could stay like this forever.
I wishwecould be forever.
But real life is catching up faster than I want it to, and suddenly, I'm really fucking unsure of how I can even continue.
Is my career really worth it, if it means never having this again?
Lily
Even though our flight is only at eleven, I am far from well-rested when we leave the hotel a few hours before that.
The fact that last night was our last together manifested in many ways, especially with both of us trying to make the most of it.
Even when we fell asleep, every few hours one of us would wake up. In my case, restless, spending the time awake just staring at him, trying to burn the image of his sleeping face into my memories.
In Adam's case, well, still restless, but also horny as fuck.
When he woke up, so would I, because he couldn’t keep his hands to himself and he was very determined to try out all the toys he got at the store. Apart from the cock-casting one though. I have no ideas what his plans are for that, and to be honest, I don’t want to know.
Long story short: We tried them all, and we fucked a lot. It's a wonder I can walk today, really. I do feel a bit sore, though.
"Are you okay?" Adam asks, a proud grin on his face as he sees me struggle to heave my suitcases into the taxi. When I glare at him, he hurries to help me out.
"As okay as I can be," I say truthfully and force my mouth into a smile. "You're trouble, you know?"
He shakes his head at me before he closes the trunk, then opens the car door, grinning when I grimace as I climb into the taxi.
I'm getting a mad déjà vu to our trip here. Only this time, I'm not as stressed. Still tired, though, but the good kind of tired, not theGod, if I blink, I'm gonna fall asleepkind of tired.
I watch him as he gets into the taxi as well, the impending doom that’s been clawing at my mind making the hair on my neck stand up. This is the end.
And then there’s the issue of having to fly. A perfect combination of shitty feelings to start my day. Swallowing down the emotion and anxiety suddenly building in my throat, I look out of my window, trying to calm down and not start to cry in front of him.
Closing my eyes, I focus on my breath as he exchanges quick pleasantries with the driver. When we come to a stop at the first light, I scoot over into the middle seat, buckle myself in, and leave my head on his shoulder, biting my lip hard to keep my emotions at bay.
"You can close your eyes for a bit," he says softly, immediately snaking his arm around my shoulder so I can snuggle into his side better. I nod against his shoulder before I do just that.
I'm never going to get used to flying on a private jet and the fanciness associated with it. I’m never sure if I like it more or less than flying commercial – more because it’s comfortable and I usually either have the whole plane to myself or share it with friends, which makes trying to stay calm a whole lot easier.
Then again, when turbulences hit, they hit small planes a lot harder than a commercial one.
A man who looks like he could play a spy in some action movie waits for us in the entrance hall of the airport, quickly catching up to us as we walk in. After a short greeting and confirmation of our identities, he guides us to a hidden, special security screening.
“This is so much better than having to wait in line for an hour and then hurrying to put your stuff on the belt, then taking it off even quicker, with the fury and impatience of all of the impatient travelers behind you directed at your back,” I tell Adam in a hushed voice, and he nods with a chuckle.
"Definitely my preferred way of traveling as well," he admits with a grin.
I mean, whose wouldn't it be? It doesn’t even take us ten minutes through security, even though their checks are waymore thorough, and there is no one else in front of us at the passport check.
Twenty minutes after walking through the sliding doors of the airport, we’re ready to go.
And the man, whose name I learned just now is Ben, guides us down to the field and then points for us to climb into another taxi.
"I could get used to this treatment," I tell Adam with a grin tugging at my lips. "I feel so important."
