Page 13 of From Helsinki with Love
She smiles and leaves me alone. I lift the cup to my lips for a taste, and as instantly as the cool liquid hits my tongue, I know that I need more.
I don’t have a chance to take more than two sips of the refreshing drink when a little boy suddenly darts past my seat, startling me, causing me to spill the rest of the cup down onto my shirt and lap.
I quickly grab a handful of napkins from the cart that the flight attendant parked near my seat and start dabbing the white blouse I’m wearing. It’s pretty much a lost cause, as the blueberry liquid has already stained the shirt. I still attempt the futile task of cleaning up the mess.
In the midst of my embarrassment, I hear a sympathetic voice. “Are you all right?”
I turn to look at the flight attendant standing in the aisle behind the cart, a kind smile on her face.
“I had a little accident with the juice. I don’t have a change of clothes packed in my bag, so I don’t know what to do.”
“Oh, that’s a shame. I’m sure we can find—”
Her sentence is cut off by a loud cough. She turns her attention, recognition clear on her face as she sees the other passenger.Oh, yeah, Jasper is sitting right there—he must have woken up, thanks to all the commotion.
They quickly exchange a few words in what I assume is Finnish, which sounds like Elvish language to my ears.
The flight attendant turns back to me. “Mr. Åkerman says that he has an extra sweatshirt that you can have if you want to change your top in the lavatory.”
“I—I would love that. Thank you, Jasper,” I raise my voice so that he can hear me from behind the cart.
“No worries, Vivian. It’s in my bag, so when Hanna moves the cart, I can grab it for you.”
The flight attendant clears the aisle quickly, and Jasper gets up. His simple act of kindness allows me to take a deep breath, reminding me that one spilled drink isn’t the end of the world.
Ten minutes later, I’m back in my seat, wrapped in Jasper’s sweatshirt that fits me perfectly. I was worried that it would be tight, as I’m between sizes sixteen and eighteen, and couldn’t wear my ex’s clothes, but apparently, Jasper’s shoulders alone need a bigger dress size. The best thing about the entire thing is how the shirt smells like him—fresh, woody, and just a bit spicy. I know the fragrance because I have smelled it before, but can’t name it right now. But it suits him as it’s clean and modern, just like he seems to be.
Hearing a groan across the aisle, I freeze. It sounds like Jasper is either in pain or pleasuring himself. But that makes no sense.Just like my thoughts right now.Who would even beat the meat on a freaking plane? I do remember reading about a guy who got arrested after wanking too many times during a flight. Someone even made a comment about high-jacking.
I take a quick peek at him and see that he isn’t taking care of the business. His face is twisted, and he holds his hand over his lower back while sitting at an odd angle.
Getting up from my seat, I move next to him and get down on my haunches. “What’s wrong, Jasper? Are you in pain? What can I do? Should I call the flight attendant?”
His breathing is ragged as he carefully shifts in his seat. “Could you give me my backpack from the overhead compartment?”
“Of course, just a moment.”
“Thanks, Vivian.”
Trying my best to get up smoothly without embarrassing myself once again, I open the overhead bin above his seat. Recognizing his black backpack from earlier, I take it down and hand it to him.
He starts going through the bag, looking for the item he needs. I know it’s so much worse than I expected when he takes out one of those Icy Hot pain relief creams. Trying to act nonchalant, I watch him as he thinks over what to do. He must feel my eyes on him as he turns around.
“Umm, would you mind helping me?”
“What’s hurting?”
“It’s my lower back. It hurts like a motherpucker, and I can’t stand the pain any longer.”
If it were any other situation, I would probably laugh at his use ofmotherpuckerinstead of motherfucker. But seeing that this is an uncomfortable situation, I feel sorry for him instead.
Grabbing the hoodie he’s wearing, Jasper pulls it over his head. If I thought he had a fantastic body before, seeing him in his well-fitted white t-shirt makes me realize I was underestimating the beauty of his physique. Jasper’s body deserves a spot in an art museum.
It is hard to keep my comments and emotions to myself—my brain is firing all the thoughts at once. So when he turns and lifts the shirt to reveal his lower back, I must let out an audible gasp. He looks over his shoulder, telling me that it isn’t that bad.
“Are you fucking kidding me? What happened, Jasper?” I hiss. The bruise that stretches over the right side of his body looks terrible. No wonder sitting in this death trap is too much for him.
“Well, I had a disagreement with an asshole on the ice.”
