Page 4 of Confused AF
“Out through your mouth,” I coached, nodding my approval when he complied. “Good. Again.”
I kept up the constant encouragement as the plane lurched forward, propelling us against the seatback as it sped down the runway. Otto remained tense the entire time, his fingers biting into the back of my hand, but he kept breathing as we ascended into the sky.
In fact, he didn’t open his eyes or ease his grip until the plane had leveled out several minutes later. Even then, he didn’t immediately release my hand, but he did stop trying to grind my bones into powder.
Eventually, his breathing slowed, his color returned, and he pulled his hand away, tucking it into his lap with a shy smile.
“Sorry about that.”
“It’s not a problem,” I assured him. “Have you always been a nervous flier?”
He bobbed his head slowly. “I’m fine once we’re in the air. It’s just the takeoff and the landing that freaks me out.”
I wouldn’t call his current demeanor “fine,” but he did appear calmer. At the very least, he didn’t look like he might vibrate into another dimension anymore. The stench of anxiety still clung to him, though, overpowering his natural fragrance.
Disappointing, really. Irrationally so.
Woodsy, a little smoky, with just a hint of sweetness, I had never come across anything quite like it. Yet I found myself obsessed with the way Otto smelled.
It was one of the main reasons I hadn’t been able to get him out of my head since our meeting at the cafe. I wanted more. I wanted to drown in him, and frankly, this sudden development annoyed the hell out of me.
More specifically, it irritated me that I seemed to have no control over my reaction.
I cleared my throat and adjusted in my seat. “Understandable. That’s when all the scary stuff happens.”
“The first time I ever flew, I threw up during takeoff,” he admitted.
He wore a pinched expression—nose scrunched, cheeks tight, mouth twisted—but his eyes held a hint of fondness. Despite the regurgitation, something about that memory pleased him.
“Is that so?” I asked, hoping for more of the story.
Otto didn’t disappoint.
“Oh, yeah. I yacked all in my ex-boyfriend’s lap.”
Then he treated me to a full reenactment, complete with mimed heaving and jazz fingers directed at my crotch.
Once he finished, he sat back with a shrug and a quiet laugh. “Serves him right. He was a total dick.”
Now I understood why the story amused him, and I couldn’t help but chuckle along with him. “Was this a teenage romance, or more recent?”
“A few years ago. It was actually a flight to Las Vegas like this one.” He paused and shook his head. “We were going for my twenty-first birthday.” A quiet sigh spilled from his lips as his smile softened. “My mom is even more terrified of flying than I am, so we always did road trips when I was a kid.”
“Tell me about your favorite trip.” This time, I didn’t ask merely to distract him. I genuinely wanted to hear his answer.
The conversation carried us to cruising altitude, only to grind to a halt when the pilot came over the speaker to announce a patch of turbulence. Anxiety instantly flooded Otto’s scent again, and he began wringing his hands, rubbing them together so vigorously that the skin turned an angry, mottled red.
“Have you ever seen a demon’s tail before?”
“What?” He jerked his head around to stare at me, his golden-brown eyes wide with apprehension. “Um, yes?”
His breath hitched when the plane bounced, jostling him in his seat, but he didn’t look away. I’d take it.
Leaning forward, I adjusted my tail so that it wrapped around the other side of my body and gently rested it atop his clenched hands. “A lot of people think the tuft at the end is fur, but it’s actually hair. Feel it.”
Though he appeared somewhat confused, my ploy did the trick. Untangling his hands, he cradled the end of my tail and ran his fingers through the long strands.
“Oh, it’s so soft.”
