Page 5 of The Fear of Falling
My jaw clenches. Debating the pros and cons of ignoring her, I think about spending the next five hours with her negative energy if I cut the conversation short. She’d probably spend the whole night glaring at me, and there’s no way I’d be able to sleep with her looming over me. With a sigh, I lift my seat up. If I’m not going to sleep, I might as well talk to her.
She’s still cute, especially now that I know she’s single.
Newly single, yeah, but sometimes those are the best kind. They’re not looking for commitment.
“A few times,” I say with a shrug. “You?”
She shakes her head. “No.” I could have guessed as much with the size of her backpack. She’s not planning on carrying that thing around Rome, is she? She’ll be a prime target for pickpockets, not to mention she’ll get some serious back painlugging that beast around. “I’ve always wanted to go, but I haven’t…”
Studying her, I wonder if she’s ever traveled before, but I’m thinking not. I would bet money that she brought more than one suitcase and will be that tourist who wears tennis shoes and hangs her wallet around her neck and tucked down her shirt. I wouldn’t be surprised if she has a travel guide in that backpack of hers and a few months of Duolingo Italian lessons under her belt.
“Well, the city is great,” I mutter instead of telling her that her mediocre Italian phrases aren’t going to do her much good. No one needs to know that the horse is brown. “I’m sure you’ll love it.”
“I’m hoping it’s like riding a bike.”
I frown, rubbing my jaw as I try to figure out what she means. “What is?” I ask when I come up blank. I’m usually pretty good at interpreting people in conversation, but I’m too tired for this tonight.
She smiles again, only this time it’s warm and lasts longer than half a second. “Traveling. I used to travel all the time, but it’s been a few years.”
Huh. Color me surprised. “What stopped you?”
She shrugs, settling a bit in her seat like she’s relaxing for the first time since getting on the plane. “Life? I guess. My fiancé—my ex—he isn’t much of a traveler, and then with work and stuff it wasn’t…” Another shrug. “And I think I used to be braver than I am now, you know?”
Not really, but I nod anyway.
She keeps talking, which makes my side of the conversation exceptionally easy. Why can’t all conversations with attractive women be like this? “Why does adulthood do that to us?” she asks, clearly not expecting an answer as she continues. “Like, ittakes all the fun out of life and makes us responsible and anxious all at the same time.”
I have to fight the urge to roll my eyes. She has fallen into the classic adult blunder of thinking there’s only one way to live, one full of boring jobs and routines without deviation. It makes me sad but also incredibly grateful that I didn’t fall into the trap like most people. My career takes me all over the country, constantly meeting new people and facing new challenges, and I would never call my life boring.
I was smart enough to take a more adventurous approach to life when I hit adulthood.
“Well,” I say, feeling her eyes on me even though mine are locked on the seat in front of me, “it looks like you’re heading in the right direction by taking this trip. I hope it reminds you of the good old days.”
“Me too. I’ll, uh, let you sleep. I’m Avery, by the way.” She sticks her hand in front of me.
I’m surprised by her boldness and can’t help but smile as I grasp her hand. Her fingers are warm and soft, and now that she’s less blotchy I’m finding it harder to look away from her. She really is beautiful, and there’s something inviting about her, like there’s a lot more to her than what I can see in the dim cabin lights.
Do I really need sleep? Or do I spend the next few hours flirting with Avery before we part ways forever? That sounds more fun. I squeeze her hand, broadening my smile in a way that usually works to my advantage. “Benson.”
“Benson,” she repeats as a bit of color brightens her cheeks. “I like that.”
That gets a chuckle out of me. I didn’t always like my name, but I’ve grown into it. “Thanks. I like your name too.”
“I’ll really let you sleep now.”
And she does. She pops in some headphones and starts an audiobook on her phone—romance, from the look of it—and though I’m wide awake the rest of the flight, she doesn’t say a word.
I’m almost disappointed when we land in Rome and I know nothing about her but her name.
Chapter 3
Avery
Ididn’tthinkgettinga taxi would be this hard, but there’s a whole line of people waiting to grab a cab, and there are no cars in sight. If I were still the Avery of a decade ago, I would start chatting with the group of people waiting in front of me, maybe start wandering the city on foot to find my hotel. But I amnotthat Avery, and there’s no way I’m lugging two suitcases and my backpack down cobblestone streets when I have no idea where I’m going.
This is what I get for stress-packing.
It would help if my phone had better service, but I can’t get enough bars to pull up the hotel’s address on my maps app. According to someone a few groups ahead of me, the McDonald’s across the street has Wi-Fi, but I don’t want to lose my place in line to test that claim.
