“That doesn’t exactly help me now, Sherlock,” he snapped, closing his eyes and leaning his head back on the seat.
I tried to suppress a smile, but he was just too fucking adorable when he was grumpy and I smiled anyway.
“Is he okay?” the stewardess asked me, motioning to the still anxious Hunter to my right.
“Yeah, he’ll be fine,” I answered, winking at her. “This is his first time flying. When you can, will you bring him a strong drink?”
“Of course, Mr. Taylor,” she answered. Her stare briefly flickered to our joined hands before she walked down the aisle.
As horrible as it was, I had the urge to jerk out of his hold once I noticed her stare. But I didn’t. He needed me too much right then. It was a painful dose of reality, though.
With William, I’d never held his hand in public—never had the desire to—so hiding my sexuality had been hard, but not really that painful. He meant very little to me, so keeping him secret hadn’t affected me one way or the other.
Hiding Hunter, though? I hated it.
I hated feeling like I couldn’t hold his hand on a plane in fear of how others would perceive it. I hated not being able to pull him into my arms whenever I wanted, just to give him a light kiss or just to feel his heart beat against mine.
“Oh shit. Shit. Shit,” Hunter said once the plane prepared for takeoff.
“This is the scariest part,” I told him, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze.
Yeah, I failed to mention that landing sucked too, but we’d get there when it was time. No sense in freaking him out even more at the moment.
“I don’t know if I can do this, Corbin.” Hunter opened his eyes and frantically looked out the small window beside him. I’d tried telling him the window seat wasn’t the best since he was anxious, but he hadn’t listened to me.
“Babe,” I said, not giving a fuck if someone heard me call him that. “Look at me.” His brown eyes found mine, and the fear reflected in them was like a stab to the gut. “You’re okay. We’re okay.”
“But what if an engine fails?” he asked, and his hands started shaking. “What if—”
“Don’t think about that,” I interjected, holding both of his hands now. “Recite Shakespeare.”
“Huh?” In that moment, his confusion outweighed his fear.
Good. It was already working.
Corbin Taylor: the master of distraction.
“Act one, scene one ofThe Tempest,” I said, not taking my eyes off him. When we were in high school, Hunter liked to randomly break out into quotes from his favorite Shakespeare plays. When he got nervous, he did the same.The Tempestwas one he really enjoyed. “The play begins with a raging storm on the sea and men are freaking out on the ship. What happens next?”
Hunter swallowed and his gaze started to dart back to the window, but I took hold of his chin and turned his face back to me.
“Hunter? What happens next?” I repeated.
“The master calls to the boatswain,” he answered in a shaky tone. “But a sorcerer was using illusion and magic to conjure the storm, therefore, the ship was already doomed.”
He continued telling me the events of the play as the plane started moving. He didn’t let go of my hands, and he squeezed his eyes shut as he talked faster. When he would stop talking, I’d ask him another question. Just as I suspected, once the plane was in the air, he relaxed a little.
The stewardess brought him a drink, and he took it. He usually wasn’t much of a drinker, but he clearly needed it.
“Thank you,” he said after we’d been traveling for a few minutes. “Sorry I freaked out.”
“It’s okay,” I said, nudging his shoulder with mine. “Flying is actually fun once you get used to it.”
“Not sure I’ll ever bethatcomfortable,” Hunter replied with a chuckle. “But it’s not as bad as what I made it out to be.”
“It’ll all be worth it once we get there,” I said, pressing my leg to his. It was a subtle movement that no one around would think twice about, but I needed to feel closer to him.
He ended up falling asleep on the plane—surprisingly—and he didn’t freak out at all when we landed in Florida.
