Page 10 of Clean Point

The feeling was short-lived. As the plane began to taxi, I tried to imagine the jolted movements as gentle waves rocking my imaginary boat, lulling me to sleep. Instead, the anxiety continued to build, the cabin getting smaller and smaller.

‘Do you have to do that?’ Nico blurted.

My full lips parted inquisitively, the anxiety tightening in my chest. ‘What?’

He motioned a hand toward my leg. ‘Shake your leg like a chihuahua in a thunderstorm?’

I looked to my legs, noticing the shaking I’d been doing, before gazing across to his still, tanned skin, thick thighs exposed by shorts. Did he ever wear full-length trousers? The question faded when I noticed the dark reddish scar running down the centre of his right knee – a visible reminder of his recent operation.

‘Sorry,’ I apologized, willing my legs to still as I grounded my trainers onto the floor, all the while trying to remember the box breathing technique I had learned in yoga class. Was it one breath in, three out? That felt like a recipe for asphyxiation.

‘Does Jon normally do this?’ Nico asked as I strangled out my sixth exhale. I looked at him for a moment, trying to figure him out, at least a little.

‘I guess it’s supposed to be team building.’

He paused for a moment. ‘I meant, make us fly coach.’

I couldn’t be sure, but judging by the raised eyebrow and slight smirk combo, which was supposed to be some sort of joke. I hummed in quiet agreement, a fragile truce settling between us. The plane movement changed to a gradual turn as we reached the start of the runway. With my hand on the armrest, I tried to relax. This was the worst part, and I doubted many people were fans of take-off. But with deep calming breaths, I focused my mind on the serene stony beaches of Rhodes, imagining the way waves crash against the shore, envisioning the vibrant hues of a sunset as the engines roared as the plane began to pick up speed.

The aircraft jolted upward with a violent bump, causing the entire cabin to shake. Panic gripped my body, my heart pounding fiercely in my chest. Instinctively, I clung onto the armrest, seeking any sense of stability.

The cabin emitted two beeps, and the seatbelt sign flashed, reminding us of its crucial importance. The plane shuddered once more, intensifying the anxiety coursing through my veins.

‘Scottie?’ Nico’s voice pierced through my anxiety as the shaking of the plane began to subside. I look up at him, my heart still in a frenzy.

I responded hesitantly, my voice betraying my apprehension. ‘Yes?’

For a moment, there was something about him. Maybe it was the panic of the moment, but I took a second to look at him. My gaze trailed around his face, tracing along his sharp cheekbones, across the line of his strong jaw. I was briefly hypnotized as I watched him swallow, the pronounced ball of his Adam’s apple bobbing.

Then he spoke, and his words hung in the air, slowly registering in my mind, their impact sinking in.

‘That’s not the armrest you’re holding onto,’ he stated matter-of-factly.

My gaze dropped involuntarily to his lap, and my horror intensified. The turbulence during take-off had bumped my arm from the armrest, and instead, it had landed on his crotch. My hand held onto the very top of his thigh, fingers almost grazing what I could assume was not tennis balls stuffed in his pocket.

Mortified, I yanked my hand away, recoiling as if I had burned myself. Even without a mirror I knew my cheeks were stained a deep shade of crimson. I attempted to form an apology, but the words tumbled out in an incoherent jumble. I was unable to bring myself to glance at him, the thought of looking at him and seeing his no doubt obnoxious face was too much.

I didn’t dare to touch the armrest again.

6

Scottie

Breakfast – Dove Cameron

The weight of embarrassment threatened to swallow me whole. As soon as the seatbelt sign flickered off, I couldn’t control my reflexes. My hand darted up to hit the ‘call assistance’ button. A familiar noise rang around the plane as I straightened, anxiously looking back and forth for an available attendant.

‘What are you doing?’ Nico asked, but I couldn’t bear to face him. Ignoring him was the only option, or else I’d die of sheer mortification. ‘Scottie? Are you okay?’

‘I’m requesting a new seat.’

I could hear the question in his voice, his body shifted, bringing his torso closer to mine. When he spoke again, his voice was low and quiet. ‘Why?’

‘I need to move,’ I hissed.

‘Scottie, it was a graze, it’s fine.’ My brain tried to linger on the way he said my name, his American accent sounding heavier, but I shook it off. I knew for a fact it was more than a graze. I had felt … things. Things that moved. If I had to stay here for a single moment longer, I was going to get up, find the nearest exit, and throw myself out of this plane.

Relief clenched at my chest as the flight attendant wandered over, her face collected and calm. She reached me with a smile, her hand going to the button to turn it off.

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