Page 73 of Summer Haze & Tokyo Craze

Wesley makes our departure announcement over the intercom, and we buckle in and only minutes later, the plane starts to move already. I gulp. It’s already a lot more bumpy than a commercial plane.

But there’s no waiting for a hundred other people to be seated and have their luggage stowed away, no waiting for the starting lane to clear or whatever other excuses they give.

God, I love this.

Miranda still gives us a quick security demonstration that mainly consists of her showing us the emergency exits and where the vests are stowed. Then she walks to the front of the plane, buckles herself in, and just like that, we start.

It is way more turbulent than flying in the big planes. I can feel every single bump on the road and every single hole in the air that makes the plane buck.

"Holy shit." I dig my fingers into Adam's arm, and he chuckles, reaching for my hand and pulling it into his lap, drawing calm circles on the back of it with his thumb.

"It's all right," he assures me in a calming voice. "Once we're in the air, it's going to get better."

"It better," I press out, my whole body rigid and a silent scream falling from my lips when the plane dips to the right, "because otherwise, I really need one of those barf bags."

It takes quite some time until we reach altitude, and it’s a bumpy way there. It takes all of my willpower to not freak out and keep a panic attack at bay. Somehow, I manage. But once the flight turns calmer, exhaustion washes over me, and I hide a yawn behind my hand.

"Do you want to go to the bedroom?" Adam asks, worry written all over his face, and I look at him with wide eyes.

"The bedroom?" He has a fucking bedroom in here?

"Yeah." He grins at the shocked expression on my face. "You can go and take a nap. Come on, get up. I'll show you."

The both of us unbuckle and get up, and he walks further to the back of the plane. I follow him, holding onto the back of his shirt as the plane sways. God, I feel drunk.

I thought the only thing in the back would be a bathroom and maybe some shelves with essentials. But he reveals not only a bedroom but also another one that looks kind of likean office. A very small one, granted, and the chair doesn’t look comfortable at all, but an office nonetheless.

"Here." He holds the door to the bedroom open for me.

Calling it a bedroom is a bit of a stretch. Then again, it’s a room that literally consist of a bed and bit of space at its sides that’s not bigger than my hand, barely enough to get into the room. There are some weird constructions to the side that look like they could have belonged into that BDSM themed room, but which I assume are for buckling ourselves into the bed when it gets turbulent.

"Are you going to take a nap with me?" I raise my eyebrow at him when I realize that he’s already shrugging off his jacket and starting to unbutton his shirt.

"Oh definitely. Remember, I didn’t get any more sleep than you." My eyes dart between him and the front of the plane, but he waves me off. “Relax. Wesley and Miranda are discreet.

"Ok. Good."

I hide another yawn behind my hand and then just fall onto the bed before I crawl further up until my head hits the pillow. It takes a bit of scooting around until we find a comfortable position, but finally we lay with him sideways, his arm outstretched for me to rest my head on, and I snuggle in more than willingly.

"I'm going to miss this," I tell him, my eyes transfixed on his throat right in front of my face.

"Me too," he admits softly and puts his other arm around me to pull me closer to him. I yelp when the plane has a small turbulence, making him chuckle against my hair.

"I wish things were different," he mumbles against the top of my head, and I nod.

"Me too." I gulp before I add more quietly, “I’m sorry.”

I’m not sure he’s heard it, because there isn’t an answer. Instead, the both of us lay awake, both knowing that the other one's not asleep yet.

I hate this.

I hate knowing that as soon as the wheels of this plane touch the ground, I'm going to have to act like all he is to me is the CEO of a rival company.

Not the guy who rocked my world in Japan. Not the guy who gave me the sweetest kiss in my favorite amusement park, the kind of kiss that I'd dreamed of ever since I was a child, hoping to find my prince charming one day.

The guy who makes shopping for sex toys a fun adventure and goes along with my more or less stupid ideas. The guy who is up for anything I throw at him and spins it into an adventure.

I was thinking of having one of the pictures of him at the maid cafe framed, but what’s the point? I won't ever be able to hang it anywhere because nobody can know.

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