Page 34 of Simmer Down
His gaze sharpens. “How about you? Do you miss dressing the part of restaurant general manager?”
“Tons. I loved it. I wore little black dresses every night.”
Callum’s cheeks are fiery red when he swallows. His eyebrows lift a touch. “Every night?”
I nod, glancing away when I feel my own cheeks warm. “As much as I love wearing comfy clothes at the food truck, I do miss dressing up and feeling pretty.”
“You’re always pretty, no matter what you wear.”
It’s no longer just my cheeks that are warm. His low growl sets every inch of my skin on fire.
The cheery flight attendant from earlier walks up to our row, still beaming. “Miss, I managed to find someone to trade seats with you, if you’re still interested.”
Callum directs a pointed look at me. Because he already knows, even though I haven’t uttered a word. I don’t want to sit next to anyone other than him.
“I changed my mind,” I say to her. “I think I’ll stay.”
•••
When I open my eyes, it’s still dark in the cabin. I don’t remember when I fell asleep, but it wasn’t long after I declined the flight attendant’s offer to trade seats. Callum and I chatted some more, flirted some more, laughed some more, and then my eyelids started to feel heavy. The last thing I recall is pressing against the headrest of my seat and closing my eyes.
But right now my head is propped on something firmer than the headrest. A few more seconds, and my eyes adjust to the dimness of the cabin. I register something underneath my cheek.
Callum’s shoulder.
A sharp intake of air is my only response. I immediately clamp my mouth shut to keep from making too much noise. With each second that passes, I’m more alert. I notice the rhythmic, up-and-down movement of his chest, a telltale sign that he’s deep in sleep.
Slowly, I lift my head up and away from him. He responds with a soft moan, then it’s back to that gentle hum of air going in and out. It rings like a soft purr in my ear.
I shake my head and scoot closer to the window, wondering how the hell I felt comfortable enough to fall asleep on him. It’s a struggle to process through the sleep-fog, but I get there.
Our breakthrough conversation. It’s the fact that through the Question Game, we revealed intimate personal truths about ourselves. The fact that flirting with him was surprisingly fun. The fact that we went from rivals to friendly flight companions to something else in a matter of hours. It’s the fact that his shoulder feels better than any pillow I’ve ever fallen asleep on. Despite how glorious it all feels, it seems entirely inappropriate to use Callum as a human pillow in this moment. Dozing off with your head on someone’s shoulder is a decidedly couple-y thing to do. And Callum and I sure as hell are not a couple.
I steal another glance at Callum. Peaceful, slumbering, delicious Callum. He hasn’t budged an inch since I jolted away from him. Maybe he’s one of those people who sleeps so deeply that not even an earthquake can rouse him. If that’s the case, maybe it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world if I were to lay my cheek back against his shoulder and see if I can fall asleep again.
Gently, I rest my head against him. He still doesn’t move. The rhythm of his breathing stays the same, which is an immediate relaxer for me. All of my limbs loosen, and my eyelids grow heavy once more. An internal switch has flipped—I’m sleepy again. His body is like my own personal tension reliever. If I were a ballsy woman, I’d snake my arm around his and nuzzle my nose into his neck. I’d take deep breaths of his sandalwood cologne and let that soothing aroma lull me to sleep.
But that would cross every line imaginable, and already I’m pushing it. Right now, his shoulder will have to do. Before I know it, I’m out.
A loud, muffled voice speaking a string of unintelligible words is my wake-up call. Eyes still shut, I groan. Do they train all airline crews to speak as quickly as possible so no one can understand them? Then a cheery flight attendant hops on to announce that we’re thirtyminutes from landing at Heathrow. My eyes spring open. It’s then that I realize I’m still propped against Callum’s shoulder.
“Sorry,” I mumble and pull away from him while wiping the side of my face. Please, please don’t let there be any of my drool on him.
Sunlight bathes the interior of the cabin, and I do a quick scan of Callum. No drool marks on his shirt or pants. I let loose a relieved sigh.
He twists to me, sleepy grin on his face. “Sleep well?”
He tugs at his hair, which is matted in the back where he was leaning against the headrest. The front is only slightly mussed. It’s decided. Callum James has the most adorably sexy bed head in the universe.
Nodding, I turn away and run my tongue along my teeth. My breath must reek.
I swipe two sticks of gum from my pocket and shove them in my mouth. “Sorry, I um... I didn’t mean to fall asleep on you.”
A slight wrinkle appears on his forehead, but it quickly fades. “It was rather nice actually.”
“Really?”
The plane makes a sudden drop, and we clutch our armrests in unison. A minute later, all is calm once more.
