Page 9 of Second Chance Vacation

Have I seriously been reduced to something as simple as being a friend of his sister?

While, factually, I was Hannah’s friend first, it is so much more nuanced than that. Calling meHannah’s friendis borderline insulting. I bite back the instinct to react.

The group falls silent for the first time since we congregated on the tarmac as the reality of the situation sets in.

It is official; coming on this trip was a huge mistake.

Life doesn’t get much better once we board the plane. One would think that a private jet would have more space, but as my vision is filled with glimmering surfaces and four beige leather bucket seats, I realize I have nowhere to hide. Savannah plops down instantly next to Wesley without the vaguest sense of why that may not be the right move for everyone. I am not sure if it is by accident or by design; either way, this is ridiculous. I glower down at her, awaiting some sort of indication that she has remorse.

“It’s just the four of us, so I figured we could take the small jet.”

Savannah grins up at me, a failed attempt at trying to move the day along while abandoning my ghost of boyfriends past.

Not. Even. Close.

Her gaze sets on Wesley, a silent plea for a lifeline, a quip, a word edgewise to pull her out of the hole she has dug for herself—it doesn’t come. His eyes are fixed on the limited drink menu for our trip, no doubt a welcomed distraction. Wesley rarely gets involved when Savannah and I have a conflict, and this is no different. He is as he always is—Switzerland. I can’t even blame the guy. If I wasn’t stuck involved, I, too, would be on a one-way trip out of the conversation.

“…Savannah…”

I am quiet.

She is quiet.

Wesley is quiet.

For the first time I have experienced in our entire lives, Jackson is not just silent, but his face appears to be leaden. His skin is clammy, and his hands are in a constant rhythm of clenching and unclenching. The silence has become deafening, and the crew is not venturing into the cabin.

I can’t figure out if that is by happenstance or by design.

“I thought you guys would hit it off!” Savannah finally bursts the bubble of noiselessness that lies over the group.

I revel in the reprieve until her words finally hit me. This is what? A…set up?

She is no stranger to meddling, but she reassured me that she wasn’t pulling any bullshit. You have got to be kidding me.

“Savannah!”

“I’m sorry!”

The fog clogging my brain leaves my skin steaming. I am on fire, despite the air conditioning of the plane making it a solid ten degrees cooler than outside.

“So you thought what? I’d just venture into this. What would you call it…blind date? And I’d be super down with being forced to spend three weeks with a complete stranger?”

“To be fair, I’m hardly a stranger.”

My head jerks to Jackson, where I find an amused smirk plastered on his face. I am both shocked and enraged that he would even think to make such a comment at this moment—or at all.

“Don’t.”

My pointer finger juts out so quickly I am even surprised I don’t poke him in the eye. If he were another man, you would expect anger, irritation, or even discomfort, but the look Jackson is shooting back at me is nothing short of defiance. My glare is toxic, so much so that I can see out of my periphery that Wesley looks like he is going to be sick. His face is growing green, and his hand is placed over his mouth in a thinking pose. I want to feel bad, he doesn’t deserve this, but as I look around the room, I can’t find the empathy he deserves.

“I’m just saying, I’m not your worst-case scenario—hell, I could’ve been some Ted Bundy motherfucker, but no, it’s me.”

Jackson jumps from his seat, stepping closer, leveling his eye with mine. He is clearly growing annoyed by the situation at hand, but it is seemingly for different reasons. “Great to fucking see you too, Viv.” His gaze falls on the window, looking out on the tarmac in silence.

“Stop calling me that!”

“Gen.Whatever.” He flails his hands in a mocking nature.

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