Page 34 of Fly with Me

“Good, now you can both shut up, and I can get some work done before we get slammed by patients.” Olive typed more forcefully on the keyboard.

Deciding not to be bound by playground jinx rules—like an asshole—Derek began speaking again. “I think she likes you.”

“I think I’m never going to see her again.”

“Really.”

“Yep.” She popped the p with as much finality as she could muster.

“Never?”

“Yeah.”

“You think you’re never ever going to see Allied Airlines pilot Stella Soriano again in your entire life? Forever?”

“No.” Olive took a sip of water. Her mouth was feeling inexplicably dry.

“She just walked onto the unit.”

Water snorted out of Olive’s nose and onto the desk, luckily missing the keyboard. Joni, hero that she was, hopped up to shield her from Stella, while Olive mopped the mess with disinfectant wipes. Derek had to jump up and leave the area because he was laughing so hard. Yeah, that dick would find himself suddenly working every holiday from now until 2024 after she bribed the scheduler into helping her with revenge.

As Olive finished fixing her face, Joni turned around and nodded to tell her that no she did not look like she just spewed water from her nose like broken sprinkler head. Olive straightened her scrubs and stood.

Stella wasn’t in uniform. She wore tight jeans and a perfectly fitting white button-down with a beat-up vintage-looking leather jacket.

Olive’s voice didn’t work the first time she tried to use it. It cracked like an adolescent boy’s. “St-Stella. This is a surprise.”

“I’m sorry to come to your work without calling first. But I realized after I left, I didn’t have your number. I looked on Instagram to try to find your account, and I found it—your dog is adorable by the way and you take gorgeous photos, and I sent you a message but then it occurred to me that your account probably has so many new followers coming in and messages, mine probably got lost. It also didn’t seem like you’d been active in a while.” Her hair was back in a tight bun, aviator sunglasses perched on her head like a hot female character in a reverse-gendered Top Gun. “That probably sounds weird that I was stalking your social media, but then again it’s probably super weird that I showed up here. If you’re busy I can get your number and text you later.”

Derek emerged from where he’d obviously been eavesdropping and cleared his throat. “Olive, weren’t you just saying you were going to get coffee from the lobby shop?”

After quickly mouthing I’m gonna fucking kill you to Derek, she turned to face Stella. “I—yeah. Stella, do you want to get coffee real quick? There’s a Mayorga in the lobby.”

Her thousand-watt smile was utterly dangerous. “That’d be great. Perfect. I could use some caffeine.”

“How much coffee do you drink every day, out of curiosity?”

“It depends if I’m flying or not. Today I’m teaching.” She squinted. “I had two cups at home and a third on the way to the airfield and a fourth on my way here.”

“No wonder you always seem like you’re jet-powered.”

“People joke that the first part of their paycheck goes to the mortgage, but I always joke mine goes to Starbucks and Dunkin’ Donuts.”

“Guess I know what to get you for Christmas.”

Derek let out a barely audible groan that he inadequately hid beneath a cough.

Olive shifted her weight between her sneakers. “Not that I’d be… never mind. So, coffee.”

“Coffee. Yep.”

Neither of them moved.

Stella’s eyes darted around. “Where…?”

“Oh, sorry. It’s this way.”

The sound of a palm hitting a forehead in the background might have been Derek, but Olive ignored it and quickly guided Stella to the double doors at the back of the unit that would take them to the elevators. Once downstairs, they stood in line and ordered, and Olive reached for her pocket, but she’d forgotten her wallet in her locker.