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“Don’t talk to me like that or I’ll have you flying into Nebraska, ya shit head.”
That’s why I don’t feel bad. Scarlet resides in a houseful of assholes. She can defend herself and put you in your place just like Willa can. I laugh and pull her hair. “Thank you.”
Can you guess what happens the next day? Valentine’s Day.
Nothing. At least not right away. But at LAX, I do the unthinkable. I call her right before I board my flight to Newark.
Sitting next to a woman who is using my shoulder as a pillow, I scroll through my contacts, hundreds of contacts I don’t know, and one I can’t forget. I’m not entirely sure what to say to her when she answers. She’s been ignoring my calls for weeks, so why now?
“Hey,” she whispers, her voice soft. And then she sighs, as if she wanted to hear from me.
“When’s your next class?” I ask, trying to push the lady next to me off my shoulder. She doesn’t budge. I stare at her, trying to make sure she’s not dead. She’s not. Just out to the world apparently.
“In an hour.”
Drawing in a breath, I try to prepare myself for what I’m about to ask next. After a beat of silence, I mumble, “Can you meet me at Newark around two?”
She’s silent for longer than I’d like. I can feel my pulse in my temples. “The airport?”
“Yeah….”
“Is everything okay?” Panic strains her words. “Are you hurt?”
“I’m fine.” I fight off a smile. At least she still cares, right? “Just want to see you.”
“Oh.” She sounds surprised, doesn’t she? “I uh, sure. I think I can. We could meet for dinner, or like a late lunch.”
“Yeah. Whatever you want.” I lean forward, without thinking about my shoulder being used as a pillow. The lady’s face slams into the metal chair. Shit. “I’ll text you my flight number.” And then I hang up. I reach for the woman’s hand. “Shit, are you okay?”
The lady lifts her head, blinking rapidly. She’s fine, by the way. For the next six hours, Annie, the woman who fell asleep on me, thinks she’s my best friend and lucky me, has the seat next to me in first class. She tells me her life story. Her husband is a stockbroker and sleeping with her sister. Not even joking. After a few drinks, she reaches over and touches my hand, tracing the ink on my fingers and the words “Dirt Life” spelled out below my knuckles.
“What’s that stand for?”
I raise an eyebrow and look over at her, making eye contact for the first time. I hadn’t noticed her blue eyes. She’s pretty, and if I wasn’t so caught up on one girl, I might take her up on her advances, but I don’t. “Dirt life?”
“Yeah. What’s that for?”
I remove my hand from hers. “I ride dirt bikes.”
“For a living?”
I nod, wishing she she’d knocked herself out when she hit the arm of the chair earlier.
Her eyes gleam, crossing her legs toward me and leaning into my personal space. “So you’re a professional athlete?”
Another nod.
“Explains the body.”
I fight off laughter and look out the window at the clouds, checking the time on my phone. “I suppose.”
Annie laughs lightly. “Who’s the girl?”
I look out of the corner of my eye at her. “Huh?”
“Well.” She sighs. “You’ve shown absolutely no interest in anyone around you, including the flight attendant who’s tried her hand at the tattooed brooding bad boy in first class not giving anyone the time of day. So, who’s the girl?”
“I hadn’t realized I’d been that obvious in my self-loathing,” I mumble.