Page 89 of The Love Haters

But I wanted to.

HELICOPTERS ARE SOloud that pilots have to communicate through headphones and mics. If you ever see a movie with people in a helicopter justtalking to each other normally, go ahead and call it: false.

Youcantalk in a helicopter, but you have to shout.

Helicopters are so loud, in fact, that in addition to wearing flight helmets with noise-canceling headphones in them, crews put foam earplugs in, too. It’sthatnoisy.

That’s one big problem for pilots: hearing loss. Also back pain from all the sitting and vibrations. And neck problems from the heavy helmets and the night-vision goggles.

It all takes a toll.

But my personal toll on this flight turned out to be smaller than I’d feared.

They let me wear my civilian clothes, for one, which was a relief. I just wore my trusty black jeans and T-shirt and sneakers with an orange safety flight vest.

Not the worst look in the world.

The helicopter was already waiting outside the hangar by the time I emerged with my gear, and I looked over to see Hutch coming out of the men’s locker room in his swim ensemble—which was, in essence, a black wet suit with black swim shoes.

Which made him look distinctly superhero-esque.

He also carried a pack with other gear, a bright yellow swim helmet with an attached snorkel and goggles, and a set of long black fins and green safety gloves.

I stopped walking at the sight of him.

I just froze for a second—totally starstruck. He really was a rescue swimmer. This was what he woreto jump out of helicopters. Into the open ocean. To save people’s lives.

This man, right here, who had kissed me by the ocean at sunsetyesterday.

The memory overtook me for a second—before reality elbowed its way back in.

I was standing right between Hutch and the helicopter he was striding toward, so it wasn’t crazy to think that he might join up with me to walk together. Or wave hello. Or acknowledge my existence.

But he did not.

I watched him walk right past me, like I wasn’t even there.

Seriously. What the hell?

But I guess that was a question for after work.

Now, as the rest of the crew walked out toward the waiting helicopter, Mira, the pilot, fell into step next to me and said, “If you feel nauseated in the air, let us know.”

Herflight bubble didn’t preclude acknowledging my existence.

“Nauseated?” I asked.

“You’ll probably be fine. But it’s a different feeling from what you’re used to on planes. So keep your eyes on the horizon. And if you start to feel sick, say something. There are things we can do to help with that. But if you throw up, the flight crew will have a lot of cleaning to do.”

Don’t throw up.“Got it.”

“You ate some breakfast today, yes?” Mira asked then.

“Yes,” I lied.

“You’ll be fine.”

As we arrived at the helicopter, still as majestic and orange as ever, Mira and the rest of the crew started visual checks of the equipment and Hutch appeared beside me.

---