Page 2 of Passions & Peonies

I can only nod at this point. Lack of sleep has hit me hard. I’m so tired, I’m at the point that I almostcan’tsleep. But—my best friend, Sawyer, needed me more this week than I needed to sleep. I feel like shit leaving him in the emotional state he was in, but Josh and I have to get back to work. Really, what Sawyer needs is a diversion from what happened a couple weeks ago. I wish he could’ve come with us. All I know is that I never want to be in his position. In the blink of an eye, he lost the love of his life. It reminds me of what my dad went through years ago.

Josh bumps my elbow. “Hey, I think you got lucky. They just called your name. Let’s go see. And take your damn sunglasses off.”

I grab my carry-on and follow him to the flight attendant behind the counter. A few minutes later, I’ve got my sunglasses back on and I’m searching for my seat on the plane. I feel bad that Josh didn’t get a seat, but he’s on standby for the next flight.

It takes me forever to get to my row, because everyone’s stuffing their giant bags into the overhead compartments. There’d better be space for mine. I zone in on the only empty seat ahead of me. Almost there. I approach the row and check the overheads nearby. Good—just enough room for my bag, one row back.

I check the seat to make sure it’s mine. A young woman sits next to the window, leaning her head on her hand. Her baseball cap is dipped low, hiding most of her face. A tablet rests on her lap. I recognize the long, pink-striped, blond hair that’s flowing over one shoulder. She was the one I saw waiting in line to board the plane. I couldn’t see her face then, either, but for some reason, I couldn’t stop watching her. And now I’ll be sitting next to her during this flight.

She’s wearing a Boston Red Sox cap and a New York Yankee hoodie. Who does that? Someone who’s looking for trouble. I shake my head and settle in next to her.

Half an hour later, and she hasn’t stirred once. I’ve tried to sleep but it didn’t happen. The flight attendant stops at our row and secures his jiggling cart, then asks what I’d like to drink. The woman next to me sits up, stretches, and adjusts her cap. I try to stay focused on the attendant and tell him what I’d like.

“Here’s your screwdriver, sir.” He places a napkin on my tray and then the plastic cup on top of it. So much for saving the turtles. He asks my neighbor what she wants.

I won’t look at her, but I don’t know why. No, I do. Her lips were a glossy, petal pink and slightly parted when I first saw her. Sexy and kissable. I’m afraid to see the rest of her face. There’s a vibe coming from her that feels… pleasurably weird. I can’t explain it. Maybe that’s why I couldn’t stop watching her at the gate.

“I’ll have a bloody mary, please.”I’ll just peek.

She puts her tray down, removes her cap, and ruffles her hair. A cloud of perfume wafts my way. I close my eyes and enjoy the way it teases my senses. It reminds me of my sister’s flower shop when she gets a batch of fresh flowers.I should’ve ordered two screwdrivers.

“Thank you,” she says as the attendant hands her the drink. Gingerly, she takes a sip. “Ahhh. Welcome to vacation. I couldn’t get out of New York fast enough.” I want to laugh, but I’m not sure if she’s talking to me or to him.

We pay the attendant. She takes another sip, then picks up her tablet and places it on the tray next to her drink. At least she has something to occupy herself with. My phone decided to die permanently this morning, so I can’t even listen to music or watch a movie. I rest my head against the back of the seat and try not to focus on her every movement.

I usually ignore the people I sit next to on a plane, but she’s different.

The attendant comes around again, offering food, which we both decline. But when he approaches us later, offering more beverages, we order the same drinks as before. Now she turns off her tablet and starts talking.

“My friend was supposed to be in your seat, but her connecting flight was canceled,” she says, turning my way. I hesitate and place my cup back on the tray. Then I finally take the plunge and look straight at her. My chest expands like my heart grew two sizes bigger, and my mouth goes dry.I need to get off this plane.She’s too gorgeous for my own good.

Her beauty is so unexpected but familiar in some way. Like I know her… but I know for sure that I don’t. I’d remember someone as stunning as she is. My eyes trace her perfect, glowing face. I’m glad I still have my sunglasses on because I’d probably look like an idiot, the way I’m staring at her.

“Cat got your tongue? Maybe you need to drink the rest of your drink to relax a little. Your jawline is so tight, and your sunglasses make you look so intense.”

“Maybe.” It’s all that comes out of my mouth. I take a large gulp of my drink. She does the same with hers.

“I was in such a pissy mood when I got to the airport this morning, but as soon as I was on this plane,bam, it dissipated. Not too long from now, I’ll be soaking up the sun with a frosty beverage in my hand. How could I not be happy?” Her enthusiasm is trying to jump over the armrest onto my lap. I lean away from her.

“What about your friend?”Why am I talking to her?

“She got a connecting flight in Atlanta. She’ll arrive a few hours after me. I’m so relieved that she found something before the storm rolled in.”

I nod and drink again. We sit in pleasant silence, but I’m keenly aware of her movements. And she moves a lot. Maybe she’s not just giddy. Maybe nervous?

“Scheisse,” she yelps when the plane hits a patch of turbulence. Her bloody mary splashes onto her hand and down her sweatshirt. “Now I’m going to smell like tomato juice. Yuck. Typical me.”

“You always smell like tomato juice?” I tease. “Or you always spill things?”

She arches an eyebrow. “Oh. I see. You have a sense of humor hidden behind your sketchy Ray-Bans.”

“What does Scheisse mean?” I hand her my napkin. She grabs it out of my hand and combines it with hers. Neither are very effective.

“It means ‘shit’ in German. My brother’s fiancée is from Germany. The first words I asked her to teach me were swear words, and I liked that one the best. It kinda stuck with me,” she explains while rubbing the spot vigorously. “I need to go to the bathroom to rinse this out and change. Maybe you shouldn’t sit next to me. I’m known to be a bit clumsy.” She swigs the rest of her drink, puts the empty cup in mine, and secures her tray.

“I’ll take the chance. Just stick with water from now on.” I waggle my eyebrows at her, and she giggles.

She pulls her backpack from under the seat in front of her, attaches her cap to it, then stands up. She surveys the area around us. “I’m in the clear. No carts blocking the aisle, and it looks like the bathroom is empty.”

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