Page 3 of Confused AF
My next breath caught in my throat when Vaden smiled. A bright, genuine expression, it transformed the harsh lines and sharp angles of his face, softening them into something truly breathtaking.
Then he sat forward and reached his hand across the table. “I look forward to working with you, Otto Stillwater.”
My own fingers trembled as I took his hand, and I sucked in a quiet breath through clenched teeth when I felt another surge of warmth at the contact.
Relief, I told myself. I was just relieved that he had agreed to work with me. If my heart stuttered and my stomach did a slow somersault when his gaze raked over me?
Well, that didn’t mean anything.
two
~ Vaden ~
Incaseofawater landing, your seat doubles as a flotation device. Locate the handles…”
I tilted my head back and folded my arms, trying to block out the drone of the pre-flight announcements. It had already been a long morning, filled with traffic, baggage checks, and long security lines, and I just wanted to get in the air.
While I understood why these systems existed, it still seemed ridiculous that the process to get on the plane took longer than the actual flight. That said, I was grateful Otto had purchased business class seats rather than economy.
Even ninety minutes crammed into a middle seat with no leg room or personal space felt like a fucking eternity.
When Otto had requested to sit by the window, I hadn’t thought much of it. With only two seats on each side of the aisle, it didn’t matter to me. It had soon become clear, however, that he hadn’t chosen the location for the view. In fact, he hadn’t even lifted the sliding plastic shade that covered the window.
Instead, he had pulled the lap belt tight enough to damn near cut off circulation to his legs and closed his eyes while he white-knuckled the armrests.
A few things had fallen into place in that moment.
One, Otto hated flying. He hadn’t mentioned anything about it to me during our preparation for the trip, but his body language spoke volumes.
Two, he preferred the window seat because it put an added barrier between him and the rest of the people on the plane. With all of his attention focused on not having a panic attack during takeoff, it made sense that he would want to limit as much sensory input as he could.
Of course, this was all merely speculation on my part, but I felt confident in my evaluation. And that had led me to another surprising realization.
I cared.
Not because he paid me to, and not because I considered it one of my duties as his temporary assistant. I cared because I didn’t want him to be afraid, and it frustrated me that I didn’t know how to make things easier for him.
I just didn’t understand why.
Strangers and acquaintances alike tended to describe me as cold and unsympathetic, which felt insultingly reductive. As if I purposely turned a blind eye to suffering or dismissed those who asked for help.
In reality, I just didn’t feel the need to insert myself into other people’s problems.
Not everyone needed to be “fixed.” Not everyone wanted aid. Sometimes, they simply needed someone to listen, someone to hold space while they sat with their discomfort.
Since Otto had neither drawn attention to the issue nor asked for so much as a distraction, the situation seemed to fall firmly into that category.
That didn’t stop me from casting covert glances at him from the corner of my eye as we taxied to the runway. A thin sheen of perspiration coated his brow, and he looked pale, his naturally olive complexion now dull and waxy.
His fingers tightened on the armrests with every bump and sway of the plane, relaxing only when we slowed to a stop. As soon as the engines roared to life, however, I worried he might vomit or pass out. Maybe both.
Unable to resist the urge to comfort him, I pried his left hand off the arm of the seat and slid mine beneath it. I knew I had just crossed some invisible boundary, and I held my breath, waiting to see how he would react.
He didn’t open his eyes, and he didn’t say anything, but he laced his fingers through mine and clung to my hand. I didn’t know how much it helped, though. His breaths still came in shallow pants through his lips, and he looked like a gentle breeze might shatter him.
“Easy,” I murmured, careful to keep my voice just loud enough for him to hear me. “Deep breath. In through your nose.”
It took a few seconds, but he eventually pressed his lips together and pulled in a lungful of air through his nostrils.
