Page 3 of The One Bed Rule
When the plane finally lands, skidding a bit from the ice, it’s like there’s a collective sigh being let out. And for the first time in my entire life, I clap for the pilot. Claire enthusiastically joins in before pressing herself back into the seat, a spot of sweat broken out on her chest near her collarbone.
“Well, at least this will be a birthday you won’t forget,” I shrug.
She turns slowly, her eyes like daggers, and I mouth ‘kidding’.
And it may not be my birthday, but this is certainly a dayI’llnever forget.
Three
Claire
“Thisisadisaster,”I groan, pacing the hall of the smallest airport I’ve ever been in. There’s a single baggage carousel and a vending machine. If there’s something I despise with every cell in my body, it’s when my plans fall through. The feeling of being at the mercy of someone else, even if that’s Mother Nature, is something that turns my stomach.
“Not fucking ideal, that’s for sure. But I’m kind of glad I don’t have to get back in the air today,” Seth agrees, pressing a hand to his chest. “Good news, though, we got the last rental car.” He dangles a set of keys in front of me.
All the flights are grounded for this airport, not that many must come and go, but across this entire region. That’s what an October blizzard will do for you. I’m on hold for the last place a Google search brought up as far as somewhere to stay. I hand Seth the phone so I can fill up my water bottle and am amazed at how many people are in this tiny airport. Makes sense, considering it’s the entire plane trying to get to New York.
I take a long drink from my bottle, trying to calm my nerves. It feels like my skin is raw—that flight took everything out of me. It’s not that I’m a bad flyer, but I absolutely hate when something is a surprise like this—so my first emergency landing is something I could’ve done without.
Seth waves me over and announces, “They’ve got a room for us. The Fable Inn. We should get on the road.”
I open my maps app, clear my throat and ask, “Any chance we could make the drive?” My screen shows an eight hour drive time. “I’ve got these birthday plans and...” My voice trails off, because it sounds more pathetic than I typically like to be in front of others.
He takes my phone, crinkling his brows and does his best to consider it. His eyes look to the window and mine follow. It’s nothing but a white out. My stomach flips, anxiety pulling at me. If there’s something that makes me wildly uneasy, it’s driving in the snow. Luckily, I live in a city where most of it is walkable; if not, there’s the subway, the bus, and car services.
“I mean, it looks pretty bad. But, let’s get on the road and see how it is.” His face is soft which makes me even more pathetic for worrying about my birthday. It’s just another day. No big deal.
“I’ll drive. If that’s okay with you?” Seth asks and I feel my shoulders relax.
“More than okay. Thank you,” I reply, reaching for my phone. My fingers touch his palm and part of me just wants to latch on. He takes both our bags, wheeling the luggage, and I quickly do my best to keep up with him but I’m wearing Louboutin heels, Chanel slacks, and a matching tailored vest with nothing but my favorite lacy bra underneath. I thought I’d be getting off a plane and headed straight to the city for some random shopping, not getting stuck in someotherrandom city.
When we reach the automatic doors leading outside to the rental cars, Seth stops. He takes off his backpack and then his top.
“What the hell are you doing?” I ask, looking around, as people passing by give him the same look I am.
He hands it to me, now wearing only a fitted black shirt. “Here.”
When I don’t take it, he insists, “You’re literally wearing that little vest thing. Your arms are bare. It’s a blizzard. Put the shirt on.” His voice is gruff and it’s a tone I’ve heard before. It’s his I want you to do this thing but I’m not going to really get after you, yet… but it’s coming.
I’ve been through enough today, the energy to push back left about thirty minutes into the flight—one I’m planning to forget. I take the shirt and pull it on. The fabric is soft and warm, smelling like eucalyptus and peppermint.
The doors open and the air rushes forward, stealing my breath. The wind whips flakes of snow that actually feel like tiny icicles against my cheeks. It only takes a few seconds for me to realize Seth was definitely right and the thought of me out here without his shirt makes me feel like an idiot. I don’t need to tell him that, though.
Wrapping my arms around myself, doing anything to block the cold, I keep my chin down and look up enough to see Seth. He struggles to pull the roller bags; the wheels are like little snowballs and if I didn’t see this with my own eyes, it’d be hard to believe. Weather like this out of nowhere? Put it on a list of things I hate.
Seth finds the rental car, which is ideal considering I can barely keep my eyes open as the wind howls through the parking lot. He opens my door before briefly getting in himself, starts the car and cranks the heat, then gets out again to put our bags in the trunk. I practically leap into my seat, rubbing my handstogether in front of the vents which are still blowing cold air, but somehow feel warmer than outside.
When he’s situated—his phone connected to the navigation showing our twenty-three minute drive to where we’re staying—Seth looks over at me, cheeks red from the winter air. “You ready?”
Hardly. But instead of telling him the truth, I offer a smile and he pulls out of the parking lot.
Four
Seth
Thisisfuckingbrutal.Our crossover SUV crawls at twenty-seven miles per hour as I feel the stress radiate from Claire in the passenger seat. One hand grips the seatbelt clip and the other holds her phone on top of her leg—her knuckles as white as the world outside the window. The only sounds are the swish of the windshield wipers and the whooshing of the air vents—I was playing music, but Claire turned it off a few minutes ago.
She’s not okay. To be honest, I hate this too. There was a piece of me that was holding out hope that once we got on the road, we’d be able to consider driving to New York, or at least to a major city in hopes of getting on a new flight sooner than this rinky dink airport we left behind. That piece of me has been stepped on, squashed, and buried beneath a whole pile of snow.
