Page 38 of In Flight

“Why not?”

He doesn’t answer. Only looks at me.

I’m bubbling with laughter at his intentionally cool expression. “Were you bad at them?” I whisper.

“Yes,” he finally admits. “I was bad.”

“How were you bad if you could run well?”

He sighs and shakes his head with a warm, tired smile. “I had issues with balls.”

“With balls?”

“Handling balls. It didn’t matter if they were small or big. I could never throw, and I could never catch.”

I can’t seem to stop laughing at this sardonic expression.

“Why is that so funny?”

“I don’t know. You’re just one of those people who always seems to have things together and who are good at whatever they try. It’s just kind of nice to know that there’s something you’re bad at.”

He finally relents and laughs softly too. “My poor dad kept trying to teach me to throw when I was a boy. Then he foisted me off on Grandpa, and he tried too. But I couldn’t do it. It would have been okay if I was good at catching, but I was equally bad at that. One time when I was like eight, my dad wasn’t thinking and tossed me an apple I asked for in the kitchen. It was a mistake.”

“What happened?” I’m wide-eyed and smiling, completely engaged by the conversation.

“He threw it right at me, but I missed. Of course.” He clears his throat. “It hit my forehead and rebounded over to knock a vase of flowers off the counter. That in turn knocked over my glass of water. So all of it—the apple, the vase, the flowers, the glass, and all the water went tumbling down onto the floor.”

“Oh no!” I’m giggling so much I try to smother it with the soft cowl-neck of my sweater. “Did your mom and dad get mad?”

“No. My dad cleaned it up. He knew by then that I can’t catch to save my life, so he took the blame. I felt like crap though. Who can’t catch a toss that’s aimed perfectly?”

“Some people just aren’t coordinated that way.”

“Uh-huh.”

“So I guess you’re one of them.”

“I know that.” He pauses as he watches my attempts to stifle my hilarity. “And some people are kind of heartless in mocking others who happen to not be coordinated.”

The plane is in the air now. I was barely conscious of takeoff. Isaac seems to also be unaware. He’s entirely focused on me, and it’s a heady feeling.

An intoxicating feeling.

I could definitely grow accustomed to him gazing at me that way.

“I’m not mocking,” I whisper, my heart hammering in my chest and my throat and my ears since it looks so much like he might kiss me.

And I want it.

Desperately.

Even though it makes me feel like the ground is about to drop out from beneath my feet.

He’s got his laptop on his tray table, but he hasn’t opened it yet. He shifts slightly so he’s closer to me. “It looks like you’re mocking.”

“I’m not. I’m just glad to know you’re human after all.”

“Of course I’m human. You already knew that. You know I hate flying, don’t you?”

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