Page 3 of Fear of Flying

Zach: How do you know? And don’t tell me it’s because Superman told you it’s the safest way to travel.

Jen: Okay, just because Superman said it doesn’t make it any less true!

Zach: SMH

Jen: It’ll be okay, Zach. You just have to remember to breathe.

He was breathing. Or at least, he usually remembered to breathe. But Jen was right. It was fine. It would be fine.

Zach took a deep breath—see, he was totally breathing!—and frowned at his phone as he typed out his next message, intent on changing the subject. Or something.

Zach: If I survive this flight, you’d better not be busy this weekend. I need my friend buffer.

Jen: I know, I know. But dude, I think being an established regular at monthly brunch, well, your parents know me too well for me to even count as buffer anymore, don’t ya think?

Zach: Not the point. Still need you.

Jen: Okay, but if your mom offers up my uterus to house her future grandbabies again, I might have to put her in her place. I’m not your surrogate.

Zach: Fair. And you know I know that. :P

A slight commotion next to him caught his attention. Other passengers were still loading, but a man had stepped in from the aisle and closer to Zach—presumably to let others by.

Zach: omg, I just turned my head to find myself face-to-face, make that face-to-butt with my seatmate.

Jen: Is it a nice ass???

Zach: I didn’t even say it was a man!

Jen: Well, you wouldn’t have been freaking out if it was a woman’s ass. Actually, you wouldn’t be freaking out if it wasn’t also a nice ass. So...

Zach: God, it is. His jeans fit perfectly. It’s a great ass.

Jen: Check the finger! Check the finger!

Zach: Chill, dude! Not everyone wears rings anymore.

Jen: Still.

Zach: I’m not here to meet guys! I’m here to hopefully survive the flight home.

Jen: I’m just saying... flirting might be a nice way to distract yourself.

Zach: Gah!!! Jen! I know you’re not suggesting I trigger my social anxiety to fix my flying anxiety.

Zach: Right??

Jen: Well, it’s not a terrible idea!!

Zach: Shit! Gotta go, he’s sitting down and I don’t want him to see!!

Heart racing, Zach hit send and then the power button on his phone to make the screen go dark. He shoved his phone back in his pocket just as the man was settling down in the seat to his right. Zach looked over, only partially catching the man’s gaze, and Zach gave him a tight but friendly smile before averting his eyes.

God, that didn’t even feel like a smile—was his face even working? What if it had looked like a grimace? Great, now the guy with the great ass, whom he’d be sitting ridiculously close to for the next two hours—longer if he was also connecting through to Dallas and then on to Albuquerque—probably thought he was rude. Or something. Had the guy even smiled back? He had, hadn’t he? Zach hadn’t even gotten a proper look at his face.

It was fine. It would be fine. People usually ignored each other on flights anyway, right? Everyone haaaated that chatty seatmate, didn’t they? They were always blasting on social media how they got stuck sitting next to Chatty Cathy or Snoring Sal—Zach glanced to the row ahead of him; “Sal” was still sleeping and snoring.

Yep. Everything would be fine because Zach was going to be a model seatmate, not making anyone wish they weren’t stuck sitting next to him. Zach’s pocket buzzed.

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