Page 9 of Fly with Me

Olive gave up on her reflection and grabbed her other bag. They stopped to get coffee—well, Stella got coffee. Olive felt too nervous about tomorrow to get anything right now. She crammed a crushed protein bar from her bag into her mouth as she walked, chasing it with a couple of swallows from her Hydro Flask.

As they reached the car rental desk down on the ground floor of the airport, Stella rummaged in her wallet.

Olive was quicker and yanked out her credit card. “I’m paying for the car.”

“But I want to get to Disney too.” Stella waved the card away. “And I’ll be driving and returning the car once we get there.”

“Please let me pay for the car?”

They held a stare, giving Olive a chance to marvel at how beautiful Stella’s eyes were. Stella nodded.

Olive handed over her ID, and Stella added her own to the pile. The man took the IDs and gave Olive a paper to sign. He checked her age and then her face twice. Olive always got mistaken for being younger than she was. She’d gotten carded for an R-rated movie within the last few years. No one ever believed she was thirty-four.

He tapped the driver’s license. “You’ve got the same birthday as me.”

“Really?” Olive asked.

“I’m just a couple years older, though.” He chuckled. “Not really looking forward to the big six-oh, but my wife’s already planning some big fancy surprise party next month. She can’t fool me.”

“Nice of you to play along, though.” Olive chuckled back politely. “I hope you enjoy it anyway. December birthdays get the shaft too often.”

“Don’t they just,” the man said with a wink.

Stella beamed at the man. “Happy early birthday, sir.”

After thanking them both, the man handed Stella the keys and then directed them out the door. They crossed a sprawling parking lot.

“Are you going to eat anything else?” Stella guzzled her coffee and then chucked the cup into a trash can.

“I don’t think so.” Olive’s eyebrows knit together. “You didn’t want to bring the coffee in the car?”

“It’s a rental,” Stella said by way of explanation.

“Oh… okay. Rental. Right.” Olive frowned, hoping her water bottle was acceptable. She’d refilled it at the airport and knew she needed to hydrate tonight.

Every time she looked at Stella, her mouth felt dry and nervous nausea roiled in her stomach. She must be more anxious about the race than she had expected.

They wove through aisles to find the well-maintained silver sedan exactly where the parking attendant said it would be. Stella opened the trunk, and they both heaved their bags into the back. While Stella nestled her oversized tote on the back-seat floor, Olive found her portable charger stick and plugged in her phone. After getting in, Stella twisted the key in the ignition and took several seconds adjusting all of the mirrors and the position of the seat. Olive imagined this was what Stella looked like before every flight, thorough and meticulous.

Olive was cold—that weird cold you get when it’s past your bedtime and slightly damp outside and your body can’t quite keep up with your metabolic demands. She hugged her arms tightly, but a shiver rocked through her anyway.

Stella motioned to the car radio. “Do you mind if I listen to music during the drive or will that interfere with your rest?”

Olive shook her head. “I’m not going to be able to sleep for a bit. Too amped up. And I can fall asleep even with music. I sleep like a rock.”

Stella fiddled with her phone for a moment before meeting Olive’s eyes again. “It really was great, what you did.”

“What I did?”

“The man on the plane.”

“Oh, right.” Olive’s focus had been so wholly switched to the race that she kept forgetting about that craziness. “Anyone would’ve done it.”

“You diagnosed the problem and saved his life, all while in a super pressurized situation. You’re a hero.”

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

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