Page 10 of Fly with Me

“I’m not.” Olive knew that might have come out more snappish than she wanted it to. Stella didn’t know about Jake. Stella didn’t know why the word hero would have been a trigger. “But thank you. I’m sorry. I’m being an asshole.”

“You had a long day.”

“Speaking of long days, you’re really going to be okay driving all night after flying during the day?”

“One hundred percent.” Stella pulled a phone cord from her bag. “I’ve pulled a lot of all-nighters in my life.”

“That’s something we have in common.” Olive smiled. “I work nights sometimes.”

Stella plugged her phone into the car, switched the audio, and music exploded out from the speakers. Familiar music. Stella hurriedly turned down the volume.

An ecstatic grin threatened to expand on Olive’s face out of nowhere. “That was Brandi Carlile, wasn’t it?”

“Yep. Shoot, sorry I blasted your eardrums with that. It’s not that loud in my earbuds.” Stella grimaced. “Whoops.”

Olive had to take a few deep breaths. Lots of people liked Brandi Carlile. Just because a person liked a gay musician didn’t mean they were gay. Maybe she just had good taste?

“I love that song,” Olive said, somewhat tentatively.

Stella’s dark eyes glowed under the parking lot’s floodlights. “Me too.” With her hands in perfect ten and two positions on the steering wheel, she pulled out of the lot and accelerated to the on-ramp to the highway.

She’d never been good at picking up these things. Her whole life, she was always developing inappropriate crushes on straight girls. Joni, who prescribed her the antianxiety meds for the trip, had been the last one. She was at Olive’s hospital on loan from another hospital in Colorado, and Olive awkwardly tried to hint at maybe asking her out. After Joni mentioned a boyfriend, they’d become friends instead. But the entire situation had been embarrassing and made Olive never ever want to try again. Shouldn’t she have a better gaydar by now?

Wanting to break her brain away from its current trajectory, Olive spoke. “How long have you been a pilot?”

“Ten years.”

“How—how do you become a pilot? Were you in the military?”

“No, it’s a common misconception that all pilots start out in the military. I went to Embry-Riddle for my degree in aeronautics and then to flight school.”

“And now you’re a pilot.”

Stella’s grin was ludicrously large now as if the memories made her glow. “Yes. I think it’s amazing that nurses can learn everything they need to know in an associate’s program.”

Olive had to remind herself that this person was spending seven hours of her life driving her so that she could run a race. Thus, Stella was obviously not an asshole. But she did seem to have a tendency toward insensitivity about certain things. Or maybe it was obliviousness. Though Olive was used to people assuming she didn’t have a four-year degree. Not that there weren’t amazing nurses who only had their associate’s. Stella was right about that.

“I actually have a master’s degree in nursing. You can get your nursing license a lot of different ways.”

“Oh wow. Interesting. I had no idea there were regular nurses with master’s degrees.”

Olive didn’t exactly love the note of incredulousness in Stella’s voice. “Oh… yeah?”

Stella’s teeth sank down on her lower lip for a moment. “Not that you don’t seem like someone who would have a master’s degree. I don’t know very much about how nurses are prepared, academically speaking. But I imagine there’s a wide range. With pilots there is, at least. There’re a variety of pathways to become a pilot.”

“Do you scuba dive?” Olive asked.

“I don’t actually. Why do you ask?”

Olive chuckled. “You have amazing breath control when you speak.” It seemed like she never paused to breathe at all.

Stella nodded as she merged into a different lane with a smooth acceleration. “Practice.”

“Practice?” Olive adjusted her seat belt strap so she could more comfortably look at Stella.

“Male-dominated field. If you take a breath, they assume you’re done talking. Of course, sometimes they don’t even wait until I take a breath and go right ahead and talk over me or restate my ideas. I’m doing it again, aren’t I?”

“Doing what?”

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