Page 2 of Confused AF (At First #2)

two

~ Vaden ~

I n case of a water landing, your seat doubles as a flotation device. Locate the handles…”

I tilted my head back and folded my arms, trying to block out the drone of the pre-flight announcements. It had already been a long morning, filled with traffic, baggage checks, and long security lines, and I just wanted to get in the air.

While I understood why these systems existed, it still seemed ridiculous that the process to get on the plane took longer than the actual flight. That said, I was grateful Otto had purchased business class seats rather than economy.

Even ninety minutes crammed into a middle seat with no leg room or personal space felt like a fucking eternity.

When Otto had requested to sit by the window, I hadn’t thought much of it.

With only two seats on each side of the aisle, it didn’t matter to me.

It had soon become clear, however, that he hadn’t chosen the location for the view.

In fact, he hadn’t even lifted the sliding plastic shade that covered the window.

Instead, he had pulled the lap belt tight enough to damn near cut off circulation to his legs and closed his eyes while he white-knuckled the armrests.

A few things had fallen into place in that moment.

One, Otto hated flying. He hadn’t mentioned anything about it to me during our preparation for the trip, but his body language spoke volumes.

Two, he preferred the window seat because it put an added barrier between him and the rest of the people on the plane. With all of his attention focused on not having a panic attack during takeoff, it made sense that he would want to limit as much sensory input as he could.

Of course, this was all merely speculation on my part, but I felt confident in my evaluation. And that had led me to another surprising realization.

I cared.

Not because he paid me to, and not because I considered it one of my duties as his temporary assistant. I cared because I didn’t want him to be afraid, and it frustrated me that I didn’t know how to make things easier for him.

I just didn’t understand why.

Strangers and acquaintances alike tended to describe me as cold and unsympathetic, which felt insultingly reductive. As if I purposely turned a blind eye to suffering or dismissed those who asked for help.

In reality, I just didn’t feel the need to insert myself into other people’s problems.

Not everyone needed to be “fixed.” Not everyone wanted aid. Sometimes, they simply needed someone to listen, someone to hold space while they sat with their discomfort.

Since Otto had neither drawn attention to the issue nor asked for so much as a distraction, the situation seemed to fall firmly into that category.

That didn’t stop me from casting covert glances at him from the corner of my eye as we taxied to the runway. A thin sheen of perspiration coated his brow, and he looked pale, his naturally olive complexion now dull and waxy.

His fingers tightened on the armrests with every bump and sway of the plane, relaxing only when we slowed to a stop. As soon as the engines roared to life, however, I worried he might vomit or pass out. Maybe both.

Unable to resist the urge to comfort him, I pried his left hand off the arm of the seat and slid mine beneath it. I knew I had just crossed some invisible boundary, and I held my breath, waiting to see how he would react.

He didn’t open his eyes, and he didn’t say anything, but he laced his fingers through mine and clung to my hand. I didn’t know how much it helped, though. His breaths still came in shallow pants through his lips, and he looked like a gentle breeze might shatter him.

“Easy,” I murmured, careful to keep my voice just loud enough for him to hear me. “Deep breath. In through your nose.”

It took a few seconds, but he eventually pressed his lips together and pulled in a lungful of air through his nostrils.

“Out through your mouth,” I coached, nodding my approval when he complied. “Good. Again.”

I kept up the constant encouragement as the plane lurched forward, propelling us against the seatback as it sped down the runway. Otto remained tense the entire time, his fingers biting into the back of my hand, but he kept breathing as we ascended into the sky.

In fact, he didn’t open his eyes or ease his grip until the plane had leveled out several minutes later. Even then, he didn’t immediately release my hand, but he did stop trying to grind my bones into powder.

Eventually, his breathing slowed, his color returned, and he pulled his hand away, tucking it into his lap with a shy smile.

“Sorry about that.”

“It’s not a problem,” I assured him. “Have you always been a nervous flier?”

He bobbed his head slowly. “I’m fine once we’re in the air. It’s just the takeoff and the landing that freaks me out.”

I wouldn’t call his current demeanor “fine,” but he did appear calmer. At the very least, he didn’t look like he might vibrate into another dimension anymore. The stench of anxiety still clung to him, though, overpowering his natural fragrance.

Disappointing, really. Irrationally so.

Woodsy, a little smoky, with just a hint of sweetness, I had never come across anything quite like it. Yet I found myself obsessed with the way Otto smelled.

It was one of the main reasons I hadn’t been able to get him out of my head since our meeting at the cafe. I wanted more. I wanted to drown in him, and frankly, this sudden development annoyed the hell out of me.

More specifically, it irritated me that I seemed to have no control over my reaction.

I cleared my throat and adjusted in my seat. “Understandable. That’s when all the scary stuff happens.”

“The first time I ever flew, I threw up during takeoff,” he admitted.

He wore a pinched expression—nose scrunched, cheeks tight, mouth twisted—but his eyes held a hint of fondness. Despite the regurgitation, something about that memory pleased him.

“Is that so?” I asked, hoping for more of the story.

Otto didn’t disappoint.

“Oh, yeah. I yacked all in my ex-boyfriend’s lap.”

Then he treated me to a full reenactment, complete with mimed heaving and jazz fingers directed at my crotch.

Once he finished, he sat back with a shrug and a quiet laugh. “Serves him right. He was a total dick.”

Now I understood why the story amused him, and I couldn’t help but chuckle along with him. “Was this a teenage romance, or more recent?”

“A few years ago. It was actually a flight to Las Vegas like this one.” He paused and shook his head.

“We were going for my twenty-first birthday.” A quiet sigh spilled from his lips as his smile softened.

“My mom is even more terrified of flying than I am, so we always did road trips when I was a kid.”

“Tell me about your favorite trip.” This time, I didn’t ask merely to distract him. I genuinely wanted to hear his answer.

The conversation carried us to cruising altitude, only to grind to a halt when the pilot came over the speaker to announce a patch of turbulence.

Anxiety instantly flooded Otto’s scent again, and he began wringing his hands, rubbing them together so vigorously that the skin turned an angry, mottled red.

“Have you ever seen a demon’s tail before?”

“What?” He jerked his head around to stare at me, his golden-brown eyes wide with apprehension. “Um, yes?”

His breath hitched when the plane bounced, jostling him in his seat, but he didn’t look away. I’d take it.

Leaning forward, I adjusted my tail so that it wrapped around the other side of my body and gently rested it atop his clenched hands. “A lot of people think the tuft at the end is fur, but it’s actually hair. Feel it.”

Though he appeared somewhat confused, my ploy did the trick. Untangling his hands, he cradled the end of my tail and ran his fingers through the long strands.

“Oh, it’s so soft.”

I clenched my teeth and choked back a growl as a current of electricity traveled along the appendage and up my spine. Still, I must not have hidden my reaction well enough because Otto pulled his fingers away and popped his head up again.

“Does it hurt?”

I took a deep breath and shook my head. “It actually feels nice.” I searched for a way to explain that didn’t sound creepy. “It’s kind of like getting your hair washed.”

Intimate, but not inherently sexual in nature.

His smile returned, and he resumed combing his fingers through the locks. “I love getting my hair washed. It’s so relaxing.” He pinched his fingers around a group of strands and dragged them to the ends. “Does it grow continuously? Do you have to trim it?”

“It does, and I do.” Sometimes, my barber took care of it during a regular haircut. Most of the time, however, I just used kitchen scissors and hoped for the best.

Otto hummed that he’d heard, but we fell quiet after that, both of us content to sit in silence. He still tensed or gasped every time the plane bounced or shook, but his fingers never stopped moving.

Even when we had moved past the turbulence and the seatbelt light blinked out, he continued to idly stroke the soft strands.

After a while, the petting slowed, then stopped altogether, but he didn’t release my tail.

He simply held the end in a gentle grasp as his head lolled to the side, resting on the seatback.

His long lashes fluttered against the tops of his cheeks, and his mouth hung open, his lips just slightly parted.

He looked peaceful, though not exactly comfortable. When his head bobbed, falling to the side, then jerking back up like it had been spring-loaded, I slouched down in my seat and leaned to the side.

Careful not to wake him, I urged him closer, applying gentle pressure until he gave in and rested his head on my shoulder. That should have been the end of it, but when he turned, snuggling closer, something inside me shifted…stilled.

My mind quieted, my pulse slowed, and the tension in my muscles melted away. I still didn’t know what the hell this human was doing to me, but I simply didn’t care anymore. Moreover, I had no desire to fight it.

Resting my cheek against his hair, I nuzzled the dark strands, breathing in his addicting scent, and sighed. I hadn’t crossed the line, but boundaries had definitely been blurred. Whether that would end up being a bad thing or not remained to be seen.

Either way, I had a feeling it was going to be a very long week.