Page 10 of That First Flight

Her right hand lifts to rub her left arm where my skin touched hers and my eyes are drawn to the beautiful ink covering it. I can tell by the way it disappears under her shirt that it’s a full sleeve, but what sticks out the most is the large dragonfly covering the majority of her forearm.

“That dragonfly tattoo is beautiful.”

I lean forward, invading her space. The intoxicating aroma of vanilla engulfs my senses, pulling me closer toward her as I clasp her hand in mine to get a better look. The same burning feeling from before is back in full swing, but she doesn’t make a move to pull away. My eyes stay glued to the tattoo.

There’s two types of people who get tattoos. The ones who get random ones when they are drunk and decide to ink their body with whatever they want and the ones who get tattoos that hold meaning. From this short encounter with Macey… I’m going with the latter.

“Tell me about this one,” I ask her, finding myself interested in knowing more about her.

“It’s just a tattoo,” she says with hesitation.

“Mmhmm.” I grin at her in understanding that she doesn’t want to tell a stranger. “I like it. I’ve been wanting to get a tattoo forever now.”

“You don’t have any?” she asks.

“Nope.” I shake my head. “Another fun fact about me is that I'm absolute chicken shit. I’m afraid of needles and being near them. I’ll pass out at the sight of one.”

Her unease evaporates at my admission. “And yet, you want a tattoo?”

“My sister-in-law jokes that I need to get an olive tree tattooed on me somewhere.”

“That’s oddly specific and weird.” She tips her head in question. “Is there a reason for that?”

“My name.”

“Which you have yet to tell me, seatmate.”

The smile that hits my face as I continue watching Macey transform in this short time to being more open to conversation, laughing and joking is just something I can’t control.

“First of all, it’s seat hubby,” I joke back with her. “And my name is Oliver.”

“Oliver,” she repeats, as if her brain is trying to process it and store it for later use. “The name fits you.”

“How so?”

“The name Oliver is derived from the Latin wordolivarius. Which meansOlive Tree Planter.”

I interrupt her, bringing my finger up to stop her thoughts. “Do you hang out with my brother on the side?”

“No?”

“Interesting.” I nod my head. “Him and his son jokingly call me a gardener. Not sure why, but continue.”

“Anyway, the name Oliver stands as a symbol for peace and friendship.”

“Okay, so what I’m hearing is that you want to be my friend, Macey?”

She giggles in the seat next to me.

“I’m taking that as a yes. But if we’re going to be friends there's something I have to tell you.”

“What’s that?”

“If you ever meet my other brother, don’t tell him that I called his fake fiancée my sister-in-law. They aren’t married. It’s a long story that I don’t want to waste on our short time together, but he’d kill me. Come to think of it”—I huff out a quick breath as if I’m blowing out a candle—“Avery would kill me and the last thing I want to be is on the bad side of Avery Woods.”

She covers her mouth with her hands again because she can’t hold back the laughter before she says, “Noted.”

For the next two hours, we talk about the most random things, but nothing about her life, where she’s going or what she’s doing on this flight. Don’t get me wrong, my curiosity wanted to know, but I wasn’t going to push it.

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