Page 81 of If It Can't Be Us

Our flight attendant comes by, and we order drinks because why not?

An hour into the flight, Vivian pulls a stack of books from her backpack. I watch as she rummages through sudoku, crossword puzzles, magazines, a novel, and a sketchbook.

She’ll choose the magazine; she likes to wind down at night with mindless activities.

She pulls the magazine from the pile, returning the others to her backpack.

I grin. “You’re so predictable,” I say, laughing softly.

She furrows her brows. “Why do you say that?”

“I predicted you’d pick the magazine. It was an easy guess. If it were morning, you’d have chosen the sketchbook because that’s when you’re the most creative. The others would be for the afternoon, when you’re most focused.” I smirk. “I know you like the back of my hand.”

She smacks her lips shut, trying to hide a smile.

“Do you think you’re not predictable?” she scoffs. “I bet I know you better than you know me.”

“How much?” I ask, intrigued by where this is going.

She shakes her head. “Not money. Clearly, you have plenty of that if you can justify buying these seats. It has to be something else.”

“Okay… what then?”

She mulls it over for a moment.

“I’ve got it,” she says, “whoever wins gets to, at any time, call in a favor for something they want.”

“Okay, give me an example of what you mean so we’re on the same page.”

She grins wickedly. “Let’s say it’s three in the morning, and I really want a pastry. I can wake you up and say I’m calling in my favor, and then you”—she pokes my shoulder—“have to go and get it for me.” Her smile widens, clearly pleased with her idea.

“Okay,” I say, nodding in agreement. “So if it’s eight in the morning, and I want to, say… take shots with you”—I glance her way as she grimaces—“of Jägermeister, you’d have to take a shot with me?” Her face reflects full disgust, and I laugh.

“You wouldn’t,” she says pointedly. “You know I hate that stuff with a passion.”

“Oh, I would,” I reply with a charming smile.

“Game on,” she says, narrowing her eyes.

“So how do we determine who knows the other better?” I ask.

She purses her lips, deep in thought. “How about this?” She pulls out a notebook and a couple of pens. “Each of us takes turns asking the other a question about ourselves. We write down our answers on paper. After answering, we reveal our answers to each other. This way, there’s no cheating or changing of minds. We’ll each ask ten questions.”

“You think I’d cheat?”

“I wouldn’t put it past you. I know how much you like to win.”

“As I plan to do, right now. You go first,” I say smirking.

She googles “questions to see how well you know someone” and clicks on one of the search results, which brings up a list of questions. “We’ll use this. We’ll go down the list in order: I take number one, you take number two. No matter how easy the question is, we’ll just take turns.”

I nod in agreement.

“Okay, first question: What’s my all-time favorite movie?” she asks, cursing under her breath because she knows it’s an easy one. She writes her answer and looks at me expectantly.

“Crazy, Stupid, Love,” I reply. “Way too easy.”

“My turn,” she says, handing me the phone.

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