I turn to look at him, back to the aisle number, then up at the empty overhead bins. I give a simple nod and pick up my luggage to fill the empty space.
I’m terrified that if I look back down at the seat, she’ll be gone. Like one of those mystery women in a movie when the character thinks he sees his dream girl, but when he blinks, she has disappeared, leaving him questioning everything in his life, including his sanity.
That’s me. I’m that guy.
But when I glance back down, she’s still here. Bewitching me. Turning my once confident charm into oatmeal. The same color as the sweater that hangs off one side of her shoulder, exposing her creamy complexion.
I unzip the front pocket of my bag that I’ve just tucked into the overhead bin to grab my headphones. As I pull them out, a pack of Big Red gum falls out, bounces on the top of the chair in front of mine, then ricochets toward the window seat like a goddamn projectile missile, hitting Little Red straight in the forehead.
She flinches, but still, somehow, snatches the falling gum pack with her free hand before it falls to the floor.
“I am so sorry,” I profess. Genuine concern laces my voice as I sit down.
“It’s okay.” She giggles while handing me the gum. “I have three older brothers. I’ve had worse things thrown at my head.”
The natural pink tint to her lips curl upward in a timid smile and her eyes squint, matching the emotion of her tempting mouth.
She shifts her shoulders away from me to face the back of the seat in front of her, but I’m not ready for this conversation to end. “I have three older brothers, too.”
Her head snaps back to me. “No, you don’t.” An accusatory statement, not a question.
“No, really.” I chuckle at her reaction. I pull out my phone, tapping on the photo app to bring up a picture of my brothers from Thanksgiving, from just a handful of weeks back. My parents insist that we always go back home to Texas forthatspecific holiday. In my twenty-eight years on this earth, I have yet to miss a Thanksgiving, and I’m not sure I want to feel the wrath of my mother if I ever do.
I click on a photo and twist the phone in her direction. “This is my oldest brother, Henry, and,” pointing to the two guys between Henry and me, “the twins, Graham and Grant.”
“And who is this guy?” She points to me, with my arm wrapped around the shoulder of my favorite brother, Grant.
“Oh,thatguy.” I clear my throat. “Well, he’s six-four, strapping young man. Born and raised in Texas, but currently resides in San Diego.” I instantly hate not knowing where she lives and debate asking her to move wherever I am. Instead of being a complete psycho, I boldly continue with, “he loves baseball, 90s punk music, and recently discovered his weakness for beautiful redheads who like crossword puzzles.”
Her eyebrows raise, and an adorable smirk appears over her lips. “He’s a charmer, I see.”
Oh, I will charm your panties off, little red.
“What’s your name?” I ask, holding my hand out.
“Ember.” She slides her dainty hand into mine as she gives it a kind shake. Her touch is like velvet on my calloused hand, engulfing me further into her spell. The shockwaves travel down my spine into the uncontrollable appendage between my legs. It forces me to shift in my seat, which is exactly what I don’t need right now.
“I’m Hudson.”
The captain comes over the speaker, tearing both our eyes and hands apart. He introduces himself and confirms our flight arrival time in Las Vegas.
Two hours will never be enough time. I’d fly to Antarctica in this tin can if it meant I could have more time with her.
3
HUDSON
As I suspected, the two hours on this short-ass plane ride is not enough time. The flight attendant just walked by informing us they will start prepping to land, and I have never wanted to hold a plane hostage more than I do now.
“No, no. I’m telling you we can debate about this all day long, but I’ll win. Big Red is the best gum to ever be made.” I flip open the top of the same pack that hit the top of her head, offering her a piece.
She throws her head back, half giggling, half eye rolling. “Juicy Fruit all day,” she banters back.
“But, how?” I push back. “Juicy Fruit does nothing for your breath, and it loses flavor in like two point five seconds.”
“But Big Red? It’s like ‘oh, I’m unassuming cinnamon gum’.” She waves her hands in front of her, giving the gum an extra girly voice, “But one piece, and it’s like lightning in your mouth and the sting lasts forever.”
Kinda like you.
