“You interested in switching?” Prince Charming points back, a few aisles up. “I’m right there on the aisle. Extra legroom.”
King Bro looks to me. “This guy bothering you?”
I can’t help but let out a chuckle. “Uh, no.”
King Bro eyes Prince Charming.
And then Prince Charming gives him a grin—the kind that works on every living thing. “Just wanting to catch up with an old friend.”
King Bro laughs. “Well, bro, don’t let me stop you! Exsqueeze me,” he says as he stretches over the woman in the aisle. He lifts his head to me briefly. “Sorry, babe. Legroom calls!”
You know, the exsqueeze me had almost endeared him to me, but then he had to go and call me babe.
After a quick bag switch, Prince Charming is settling in next to me, and my mind begins to sputter about all the ways my heavyset hips might encroach on his space.
“I can put the armrest back down if you want,” I tell him, already picturing the bruise it will leave on my thigh.
“Nah, I’m good.” He reaches down between his legs and under his own seat, feeling around with a thoughtful expression on his face.
“Everything good down there?”
A sheepish expression passes over his face. “I…was checking for a life jacket.”
I lean a little closer and whisper, “You know we’re flying over an uninterrupted continent, right?”
“We could go down over a lake,” he says very seriously. “Or a river. An exceptionally wide river. You don’t know.”
I hold my hands up. “Fair.”
“It’s not that neurotic,” he says defensively. “I just want to be prepared.”
I check under my seat quickly. “Tip-top shape here.”
“Oh, if you think this is dramatic on my part, you should see me on a helicopter. I would rather lie naked in a pit of scorpions.”
“That’s…a visual,” I say, unable to ignore the warmth in my cheeks at the thought of him naked.
“Who would even want to fly on a helicopter? If that propeller goes, you’re done.”
“They’re like the motorcycles of the sky,” I say, egging him on a little.
“Yes! Thank you. Well, now that you know my deepest fear, I can officially trust you to help me with my drop-down mask when the time comes.”
“I swear to properly apply mine and then help all the surrounding children, yourself included.”
“Thanks.” His grin sparkles.
I feel that eager twitch in my chest like when your sense of humor perfectly aligns with someone else’s. It’s like scrolling through radio stations. Static, static, static, and then suddenly—click!—they’re on the right wavelength.
We sit there for a few moments, completely silent, staring blankly into the screens on the seat backs in front of us. Finally, the woman on the aisle snorts before putting her headphones back in and returning to her crossword.
“Extra legroom? Is that all?” I ask. “You look like a first-class kind of guy.” And he really does in his crisp white T-shirt, fitted dark jeans, olive-green bomber, and a pair of sneakers from a small brand out of Australia that is about to explode.
“Well, since you mention it, I was in business, but missed my first flight, so I took what I could get.”
I groan. “There’s nothing good about missing a flight.”
He shrugs. “This isn’t so bad.”
I have to press my lips downward to stop myself from smiling like a total goober. “So what was it? Traffic? TV show filming on your street? Trekking to JFK is like a real-life hero’s journey.”
He laughs. “I was just second-guessing my trip. Thinking about putting it off or just canceling altogether.”
I sigh, leaning back into my seat. “I didn’t want to leave either, but I didn’t really have any other options at the moment.”
He taps around on his screen absentmindedly before pointing at the logo for Before Midnight. “You ever seen this show?”
“Once or twice, I guess,” I lie through my teeth.
“You know, I heard that the single guys on that show are more well vetted than vice presidential candidates.” He scrolls back a couple seasons until he lands on Tyler Buchanan’s season. “And I know for a fact that this guy left the girl he chose for one of the producers on the show.”
I have to grit my teeth to stop myself from mimicking exactly what Erica would say to this. I cannot confirm or deny those allegations. What Prince Charming doesn’t know is that the producer Tyler fell for was a he, not a she.
“Is that true?” I ask. “Well, I don’t know what kind of person thinks they could actually find true love on a show like that, but at least their foolishness makes for some good entertainment for the rest of us.”
He cracks a stiff half smile and sighs. “At least it’s good for something.”
The flight attendant strolls down the aisle with a drink cart, and Prince Charming orders himself a whiskey. “And whatever she wants,” he tells her.
The flight attendant practically preens in his direction.
I throw a hand up. “Oh, I’m fine with just ginger ale.”
“Oh, come on,” he says.
“Um, okay, just a champagne, then.”
The flight attendant fills my plastic cup to the top, and it might be crappy champagne, but at least they’re not skimping on it.
Once she moves on to the next row, he holds up his glass. “To missed flights and a transcontinental trip we might soon regret!”
I laugh and clink my cup against his. “To…that!”
For the rest of the flight, we both have our headphones in. I settle on old episodes of The Office, and he watches Terminator 2. (It doesn’t count as stalking if you’re sitting butt to butt with someone in economy, okay?)
When we land, almost everyone stands up the moment the fasten-seat-belt sign is turned off.
“There are two kinds of people in this world,” he says as he shoves his headphones into his bag. “The kind of person who stands up immediately no matter how close they are to the exit door and the kind of person who waits in their seat like a civilized human being.”
“Yes! Thank you!” I say. “This is my pet peeve.”
I peer over the row ahead of me to see King Bro elbowing his way into the aisle.
“Looks like we know what kind of guy your old pal is,” he says, nodding his head toward King Bro.
When it’s our turn to go, Prince Charming stands up and helps as many people who need it with their suitcases. He takes one look at my luggage tag shaped like a stiletto. “I’m guessing this one is yours.”
I laugh. “I’ve got a thing for shoes.”
I work my way out into the aisle, but when I turn back to see where my new Prince Charming friend is, I see that he’s stuck where I left him, still helping people with their bags. On the one hand, I find this very endearing, and on the other, I wonder how bad he is at setting boundaries in his everyday life.
Once I make it up the jet bridge, I race to the bathroom, because that champagne is going straight through me whether I like it or not.
When I make it out of the restroom, I wait for a few minutes, hoping to catch him. I didn’t even get his name. After I give up on finding him, I hoof it to baggage claim, where a row of drivers in full suits is waiting with iPads on display reading their passengers’ last names.