Page 10 of One Timer With A Wingman

“Is it hot in here?” I ask, fanning myself.

“No,” Aaron says, his brows drawing in as he focuses on me.

The plane starts to move. I grip the armrests on both of my sides.

Aaron is still watching me. “You’re scared to fly?”

“How observant of you,” I reply without looking at him. I’m just focusing on my breathing.

“You don’t need to be scared. It’s so much safer to fly than it is to drive a car,” he states.

“That isn’t helping,” I reply.

We move toward the runway and we begin to speed up. I am holding my breath.

“Hey,” he says, placing his hand over mine. I’m white-knuckling the armrest. “Take a deep breath. You’re safe.” He takes hold of my hand. His is large, warm, and calloused. A spark of something warm shoots through my body. “Tell me what I can do to make you feel better.”

He’s being sweet but it doesn’t matter. It’s a cover for what is really under the surface.

We take off and my stomach dips. “This is supposed to be the fun part, Briar. Just sit back and enjoy the ride. Worrying isn’t going to change anything or help you in any way.”

“You aren’t wrong.” I release the armrest because he has a point.

We level off. I take a deep breath. Everything is fine. I’m okay. Aaron is right. Worrying won’t change anything.

When the flight attendant comes around, I order a double vodka on the rocks.

“You aren’t playing games,” Aaron snickers.

“I never do,” I inform him.

“Come on, you must play games sometimes. Life is no fun without play,” he states.

The flight attendant brings my double vodka. I throw it back, enjoying the burn at the back of my throat, but it only lasts a second and I begin to cough.

“I think she needs an orange juice,” Aaron says to the flight attendant. “Can you make that two?”

I’m still coughing when the flight attendant passes me a cup of orange juice. I sip it slowly and it helps ease the coughing.

“I can’t believe you can drink this early in the morning.”

“You don’t know me,” I inform him.

“True, but aren’t you a gymnast or something?” he asks.

“I am,” I confirm.

“I don’t drink much during the season, so this little break with free alcohol is very much needed,” he explains.

I don’t reply to his comment. I don’t think we should become friends. Instead, I put on a movie and place earbuds in my ears. The movie I’m watching is a comedy, which I find relaxes me. We still have a good four hours to go, which sucks. An hour into the movie the pilot comes on to the speakers to say hello and warn that we may experience some mild turbulence soon.

I know that means pockets of air that can cause the plane to jump a little. How bad can it be? Now I’ve lost my focus on the movie and I can’t get back into it. I stare into space, feeling like my stomach is tying into knots. When I side-eye Aaron, I see him watching a movie on his phone. The plane starts to shake. I go to grab the armrest, not realizing his hand is there. I grab hold of his hand, which is super embarrassing. I pull my hand back like I’ve been burned.

“Sorry.”

He takes his earbud out of his ear. “You okay?”

“Totally.” I bob my head, my voice high-pitched.

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