Tim and Heather wouldn’t have minded a couple of extras in their car. Heather doesn’t like flying either, apparently.
Lucie waves a hand. “I fly. I travel to Italy all the time to see family, so I’ve flown loads since I was a kid. I’ve just never really got used to it, and I get really nervous about it beforehand. Normally, I take a Benadryl, but as it’s only a short flight, I thought better of it. It’s the take-off I don’t like. Once we’re going and the seat-belt sign switches off, I usually feel better. Let’s maybe get some Dutch courage first, huh?” She nods at a bar, and I grin.
A day drinker. Add a tick to the my kind of girl box.
The bar is busier than I expect it to be on a Thursday afternoon, so we have to weave through the crowd. Her hand is fisted into the back of my T-shirt, so we don’t get separated as I try not to run over anybody’s feet with our carry-ons.
I clock the eighteen-year-old wannabe wolf-pack gang from earlier in here, too, drinking their Stella Artois. Lucie follows me to the bar and leans against it. As the group of boys all watch her arse, I step closer and set my hand on the small of her back—a clear sign for them to back the fuck off. I get it though; her arse is spectacular, all J-Lo rounded, and it’s like it pulls your eyes down there with its own gravity. With the denim hugging every inch of it, I can’t even blame them for looking.
I order a Corona Light because I’m driving once we get off the plane in Glasgow, but Lucie opts for a whiskey sour. I’m suitably impressed.
We manage to snag the last empty table, and I lean in closer to be heard over the busy hubbub around us. “I had a bet with my mate as to whether you’d stand me up today.”
She laughs and sips her drink. “Oh, really? He didn’t think I’d show?”
“No, he did. I didn’t.” It’s a joke laced with truth.
She laughs, and the sound makes my insides clench. She’s so easy-going; it’s nice.
“You’d just better not be using me as some sort of pawn in a plan to break up this wedding, Theo. If I get there and find out that this is part of some scheme, you’ll be in so much trouble. I’m not afraid of jail time; I will decapitate you.”
“Savage.” I chuckle but then see the hard glint to her eye. She’s serious. I lean back and cross my finger over my heart. “Honestly, it’s not like that; you’ll see. I’m happy for them. Besides, Amy and I never would have worked anyway; we’re too similar. It’s just … it takes a while to stop wanting someone, you know?”
Her smile falls, and she nods. “I know exactly how that feels. And it sucks.”
Her eyes are sad, and I suddenly realise she’s likely in the same place as me, mentally. She’s not over her cheating ex, and I’m still hung up on Amy. How tragic.
We chink glasses and cheers to our pathetic love lives.
“Did you and Amy ever date?” she asks, sipping her drink, watching me over the rim of the glass.
“Nope, never.” I take my own swig. “I just liked her, but she never knew, and then she got with my twin brother.”
She gasps and then winces. “Your twin? Ouch.”
“Yeah, serious ouch. But it’s okay. I’m over it—well, mostly. Um, Lucie … obviously, it goes without saying that I don’t want this stuff to be common knowledge. No one knows that I have a little, inappropriate crush. If you could keep that to yourself, that’d be great.” I eye her hopefully, but she doesn’t strike me as the sort of person who would intentionally cause trouble for the hell of it.
She smiles and sets her hand on my arm, squeezing gently. “I won’t say anything. I’m not an arsehole.”
“Excellent. Well, to not being an arsehole then.” I grin and nod, holding up my bottle, offering her an air cheers.
By the time we finish our second drinks, they’re boarding our flight. The closer we walk towards our gate, the paler Lucie becomes. Her breathing is shallow, and her eyes are darting over every surface as we step onto the plane. The stewardess shoots Lucie a worried look and then glances at me questioningly as we step over the threshold. Smiling reassuringly, I reach down to grip Lucie’s hand. It’s warm and clammy, and she clings to me so hard that my fingers creak and mash together painfully. I should worry about it really; my fingers are my livelihood, so I have to look after them, but instead, I quite like that she’s using me to anchor herself. I’m so messed up.
Lucie allows me to dumbly lead her down the aisle.
When we get to our seats, I motion to them and take her bags from her hands. “You want aisle or window? I’m easy.”
She gulps and shrugs. “Okay if I have the window?”
I nod and move aside, so she can slide in. Then, I stow her handbag and our carry-ons up in the overhead compartment.
As I slide into the seat beside her, I glance over to see her fumbling with her seat belt with shaky hands. “Here, let me.”
I reach over and gently push her hands out of the way, fastening the belt for her, tightening it to fit. I don’t miss the fact that the back of my fingers accidentally brush across the exposed skin of her belly. I also don’t miss the fact that her breath catches the same as mine does. My mind wanders to inappropriate places, but I force it to stop. This is simply a friendly weekend; that’s what I promised her. I just need to try and keep my mind out of the gutter and off her arse and amazing rack. Then, maybe we can just have a good time together and enjoy a free holiday. Every male part of me is finding that hard though—likely because every female part of her draws my attention.
“Looks like it’s my turn to distract you from a panic attack,” I joke, winking at her. “Come on, it’s only an hour and fifteen minutes of your life. It’ll soon be over.”
I place my hand over hers and give it a little squeeze, trying to get her fingers to relax from the white-knuckle grip they have on the armrest. She smiles at me weakly, and I motion with my head to the back of the plane, grinning mischievously.
“Fancy joining the Mile-High Club? That’ll keep your mind off it.”
Still pale, she playfully raises one eyebrow. “But what will I do for the other hour and twelve minutes?”
I can’t contain the laughter that rips from my throat.
seven
Lucie
Of course, we don’t join the Mile-High Club. And we don’t crash and burn in a fiery wreck either. In fact, the whole flight is actually kind of nice—well, after the initial take-off anyway. Theo is hilarious in a weird but cute way. He’s not like Lucas at all; in fact, he’s pretty much the opposite of my quiet, well-to-do ex-fiancé who is always about image and status. Theo is incredibly chatty and friendly and just all-round sweet. The way he looks after me throughout the flight makes my stomach flutter.
He holds my hand the whole of take-off, not even complaining about me probably breaking his fingers. And then we joke around and talk about random nothingness for a while, sipping on coffee and eating plane-bought sweets. And when it becomes time to descend, he silently holds his hand out in offering, and I don’t hesitate to take it.
It’s so unlike the times when I flew with Lucas and he would just tell me to calm down and stop being foolish. Lucas isn’t exactly the most patient or empathetic person on the planet. In fact, he’s the one who started me on the pre-flight Benadryl train. He’d heard from friends that it made you drowsy and suggested I give it a try. So, they became a regular thing when we travelled together. I don’t like taking them; they make me feel all muffled and groggy for hours after. That’s the real reason I didn’t take one for the flight today. Not because it’s a short flight, like I told Theo, but because I didn’t have Lucas to press a pill into my palm and insist I take it so I wouldn’t embarrass myself—and him.