Page 2 of The One Bed Rule
“Damn. Didn’t think I was an entire decade older than you.” He acts like it’s some sort of embarrassing fact but it feels like all a ruse. Clearly, the man is still ridiculously hot.
Ten years would make him forty-eight. I actually had no idea how old he was—never really gave it much thought. Looking closer, I see some laugh lines around his eyes when he turns to me, smiling as he says, “Well, here’s to you. Happy birthday.”
Our glasses clink and we take a sip—the bubbles fresh and bright on my tongue. Fuck, I love champagne.
To be honest, I kind of love how Seth is looking at me right now, too.
Two
Seth
Thisisoneofthe worst flights I've ever been on. Thought the whole getting upgraded and sitting next to someone I know, champagne in hand, was supposed to indicate this was going to be enjoyable.Scratch that.The seatbelt sign has been on the entire flight, attendants are still buckled into their seats, as turbulence has the plane shaking and dipping while we fly through it. It’s been almost two hours and even my stomach is starting to hurt, despite motion sickness never being something I’ve had a problem with.
Looking over to Claire, she’s gripping the arm rest, her knuckles white.
A voice sounds over the intercom. “This is your captain here. Ugh, you can see that the flight path has been rough. In all transparency, a random snow storm is the culprit.”
“Snow storm? It’s early October,” Claire moans to no one in particular.
The captain’s voice crackles again. “To keep everyone safe, we’re making an emergency landing. We’re waiting to get the greenlight from a few small airports in the Carolinas.” Before I can even contemplate what the hell that means, there’s a significant drop and someone lets out a tiny scream in surprise. Like a reflex, I reach for Claire’s hand, holding it tightly in mine.
She doesn’t flinch but remains staring forward. A few seconds later, there’s another drop, and she’s squeezing her eyes shut. Her chest rises and falls in quick motions and it’s clear she’s struggling.
“It’s okay. We’re going to be okay,” I quietly reassure, leaning closer to her.
She nods but keeps her eyes closed.
“Do you want to talk or do you want to sit in silence until we’ve landed?” I pose the question.
Claire turns to me, face as pale as her knuckles were a second ago. “Talk. Considering this is the last time we might be able to.” We hit another rough patch and her head goes to the left with the momentum.
I reach my other hand over and hold her forearm, drawing circles. “This is not the last time. I’ve been on much worse flights—”
“Don’t tell me about them. Now is not the time.”
“When you were a kid, what job did you want?”
She takes a short breath, sighing it out before turning to me, struggling to turn her attention from the unplanned chaos around us. “I wanted to be a teacher. Because of my fourth grade teacher, Mrs. Rivard.” Her eyes find mine; outside of the panic and stress, I can see they’re chocolate brown. “She was the person who showed me what it was to be seen. Be paid attention to. My parents sucked but that’s going to have to be a later story.” She practically runs out of breath.
Fuck. That stings. I don’t push her on the topic and instead answer it for myself.
“I wanted to be a firefighter and that was actually what I did before this.”
“You were a firefighter?”
I nod and she rolls her eyes before looking outside the window—nothing but white from the clouds we’re still going through.
The laugh escapes before I can hold it back, “What’s that look for?”
“Youwouldbe a firefighter. That explains the muscles.”
“Checking out my muscles, huh?” I wink at her, thankful for the quick joke.
“You wish, Seth. No. I see people and notice their shape like a normal human. Sue me.” She makes a circling gesture with the hand I’m not holding and says, “Next question.”
We’re interrupted when captain comes back over the intercom, “We’ve got clearance to land in Ridgeview, North Carolina.” We look at each other, both shrugging because we’ve never heard of it. “Hate to tell you that it’s going to get a little worse on the descent, but I’d like you to be prepared.”
We sit in silence together, both of my hands touching Claire’s, trying to help her relax any way I can. There’s someone crying in the back of the plane and a kid, probably about eight, who keeps laughing and yelling “Woah!” when there’s a bump or drop.
