Page 5 of What are the Chances

I didn’t have a traveling companion—other than my dead cat’s ashes, currently sitting in my lap—but somehow, the strange woman sitting beside me thought we were friends all of a sudden, just because we were sharing a simple outlet. She must have been crazy.

She rambled on, questioning me about the box sitting on my lap. It wasn’t until she so blatantly loudly asked—for anyone within a twenty-foot radius of us to hear—if my metal box contained a head—an actual head. What was wrong with this woman? Not only did I wonder where she came up with the idea of me casually carrying around a head, but I questioned what on earth happened to this woman over the course of her life to conjure up such thoughts. No one in their right mind would just assume such morbid ideas.

Although I hated to admit, she was somewhat correct in her assumption. The box didn’t carry a head but the ashes of my late cat, Noodge. After reassuring my new travel companion I was not, in fact, carrying around someone’s head, I explained. The moment I spoke Noodge’s name, I knew the laughter was coming as it always did any time I told someone his name. But I loved my cat, and I missed him so much, I was literally flying halfway across the world to spread his ashes back home.

Just when I thought I could get away from the crazy yet gorgeous woman, she was now seated two seats away from me, Alma sitting between us. I didn’t know how I felt about Charlotte yet, my feelings somehow pulled in two directions.

Taking my mind off Charlotte, I slide my phone from my front pocket and text my brother, making sure he’s still going to be at the airport to pick me up after I land. Once he reassures me he’ll be there, I look up from my lap when the flight attendant requests all electronic devices be set to airplane mode during our ascent. After doing so, I slide my phone back into my pocket.

When I turn my attention back toward the front of the plane, the flight attendant is gone, having taken her seat. Suddenly, the plane stops briefly before a loud noise fills the cabin. Within seconds, the plane begins to pick up speed, and the ground outside my window grows smaller and distant.

With the distance growing between us and the ground, I face forward in my seat, staring at the locked tray table in front of me. I fight the urge to glance in Charlotte’s direction, but as the plane levels off and the seatbelt sign turns off, I lose that battle.

Her legs are crossed, and an open book rests in her lap. I watch as she holds the thin page between her fingers, ready for when she finishes reading the last word, so focused on the story. I watch in awe, stunned with her apparent fascination and satisfaction with her book. I cock my head to the side, trying to read the cover and see what has her so enthralled.

Beside me, Alma smiles, trading glances between the both of us. “You know,” she says as she reaches in her purse. “I don’t believe we caught your name.”

Charlotte looks up from her book and blankly stares in my direction, curiosity pulling her away from her story. Her face is void of emotion, and I’m not sure how to read her at this moment. She’s no longer staring at me with amusement or anger, she’s completely blank.

Pulling out three butterscotch candies, Alma hands one to Charlotte, then me.

Charlotte rests her arms on her open book, saving her spot. Slowly, between pinched fingers, she unravels the butterscotch candy, freeing it from its wrapper.

Her eyes don’t break away from mine as she lifts the candy and pops it into her mouth. Slowly, her face changes, her blank stare disappearing. The corner of her mouth curls into a smirk as she sucks on the piece of candy, tossing it from one side of her mouth to the other with her tongue. The hard candy clicks against her teeth, and her brown eyes flicker with amusement.

The familiar pressure grows in my jeans once more. I clear my throat, staring into Charlotte’s eyes, unwilling to break free from this woman’s spell.

“My name is Mason. Mason McConnell.” From the corner of my eye, I catch Alma’s grin growing wider.

“I don’t think I’ve ever met a Mason before. Doesn’t sound like a common Irish name, is it lad?”

My eyes are still locked onto Charlotte’s, I grin and feel a chuckle erupt from my chest.

“No, it’s not. It’s French, actually.”

“It’s a lovely name, nonetheless.” Alma turns to Charlotte, nudging her with her elbow. “Isn’t it a lovely name, Charlotte?”

I stifle a laugh, watching as Charlotte continues to toss the piece of candy around her mouth. Using her tongue, she tucks it on the side of her cheek and shrugs her shoulder.

“Meh, it’s okay,” she quips. “Sounds typical to me.” Her eyes light up, staring me down.

My throat dries, and I attempt to rid myself of the feelings she’s so blatantly already stirred inside me. How am I supposed to survive a thirteen hour flight with this woman looking at me like that?

Fuck. I’m screwed.

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