Page 20 of In Flight

He’s getting defensive, so I drop the subject before the mood between us shifts.

He asks about progress on the wedding plans and what design Raven chose for her guest book. Then he asks about my specialty in art school, and I tell him a few stories about my more eccentric classmates.

At one point he laughs out loud in a way I’ve never heard from him before. It feels like a victory.

I’m having a good time and not really checking myself. So when I notice a piece of fuzz stuck in his hair, I reach up without thinking to pull it out.

He meets my eyes as my fingers slide through his thick waves. I’m deeply conscious of the faintly pleasant scent of him, the warmth radiating off his body, the solidity of his frame.

I want to touch more than his hair. I want to feel the bristles on his jaw. I want to slide my hand down the length of his arm. I want to twine my fingers with his.

Neither one of us looks away, and there’s a heat in the shared gaze that hasn’t been present before. I’ve always known he’s an attractive man, but I’ve never felt it like this. Like the attraction is a magnetic force, dragging me toward him.

It’s not until I hear the old lady coughing across the aisle that the heated spell breaks. I drop my hand like his hair burned me. “Sorry. Sorry. We can’t do that.”

He withdraws too, composing his expression into his typical nonchalance. “We weren’t doing anything.”

“We had a moment, and we can’t have that. We’re both in relationships. Moments are entirely out of bounds.” I’m breathless and still kind of shaky.

And guilty.

Incredibly guilty.

I never imagined myself the kind of person to have even a stray moment with a man other than the one I’m dating.

“We didn’t have a moment. Don’t overdramatize things.”

“We did have a moment. You felt it too.”

“I felt you getting something out of my hair. I think whatever moment you’re imagining happened in your mind.”

His tone is bone-dry, and it’s like a bucket of cold water on the heat I was feeling before.

But even that doesn’t sway me from what I know to be true. “It is not in my mind. You felt it too. You know you did.”

When I hear the old lady coughing again, I lean over so I can see past Isaac’s body to check.

Isaac starts to reply, but I put a hand up to stop him and say, “Ma’am? Ma’am, are you okay?”

She’s leaning over, her hands covering her face. Her shaking is visible from where I’m sitting.

Isaac turns to look too and immediately unbuckles his belt and stands up. “Can I get you anything?” he asks, squatting beside her seat.

I climb over his seat to stand up too.

“Oh dear,” the lady says with a dramatic quaver.

“Maybe go ask for a ginger ale,” I murmur to Isaac, who’s giving me a questioning look.

He does so immediately, and I take his place crouching beside her seat.

“Can I help you at all?” I ask gently.

“I’ll be okay.”

“It doesn’t look like you’re okay. Can you maybe tell me what’s wrong? Are you sick?”

“No, no, I don’t think so. I was feeling a little dizzy, but I don’t think I’m sick.”

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