Page 37 of From Hell

Jaxon shrugs. “The best food is French.”

“What? No.” I shake my head, folding my arms over my chest to make a point and to stop my arms from shaking.

He raises a brow, taking in my shivering form. “If you’re afraid, don’t be. I’ve done this a hundred times.”

“That’s even worse. What planet are you on? Because last I checked, we do not need more CO2 pumped into the air on this one.”

“What?”

I narrow my eyes. “I’m not getting on a plane for something as trivial as lunch.”

He blinks at me. “Eating good food is not trivial.”

Annoyance spreads in my chest. “Do you know how unsustainable and damaging to the environment flying is? It heavily impacts global warming and climate change, not to mention polluting the air we breathe.”

This is why I live on campus and walk to classes every day. Only prats like Jaxon drive around in their supercars to go a mile down the road.

He stares at me, jaw clenching as he thinks of something to say to counter that. He can’t unless he wants to come across a dick. “Fine, we’ll go back to the canteen.”

I gnaw my bottom lip between my teeth. “Good.”

Jaxon doesn’t say anything as we pull out from the airfield. I don’t either, preferring to stare out the window so he can’t see how red my face has become. My whole body is on fire. Did I lecture Jaxon on his own airfield in front of his staff?Yes.

Is there something wrong with me?Also, yes.

When we get down the road, I instantly recognize the sleepy chocolate box village we’re driving through. It’s Angelfalls, known for one thing, well, two, if you count the uninspired waterfall that is a hole in some rock with water pouring out of it.

“Oh, actually, can we stop here.” I point at an empty row of diagonal spaces lined in front of the main street of shops and pubs.

Jaxon sweeps a look at me but does so, pulling his car into one of the slots.

“The best food I know is here,” I say by way of explanation. “Wait, I’ll be back.”

Minutes later, Jaxon scowls when he sees what’s in my arms—a swaddle of steaming paper wrapped around two portions of Angelfall’s famous fish and chips, mine substituted by vegan halloumi.

“If you get grease on my leather…”

“Just try one,” I say, ripping the paper open, taking out a hot, fat chip, and holding it up for him to eat. His eyes lower to the chip in my hand and then slowly back up to collide with mine.

Time slows. Light drizzle blankets the car in a fine mist, fogging the windows, but it’s clear to see we’ve gathered a crowd through them. Goulston Fish and Chips is a hot spot for the students of Royal Victoria. Realization dawns as embarrassment burns holes through me, making my cheeks heat to match the hot food between my fingers.

My breath shortens. “No, actually, these are yours.” I break the spell by jerking my attention to the rivulets of rain streaking down the windscreen, shoving a bag of fish and chips at him and the lone chip I pulled out into my own mouth. The salty potato is too hot to eat, but I’m so bewildered I swallow it whole, scalding my tongue and throat.

Jaxon sighs. “I can’t drive and eat at the same time.” He offers me his portion and then starts up the engine.

“Where are we going?”

“Somewhere we can enjoy them without the world watching.”

Jaxon drives back to the airfield. The dark clouds have given way to patches of bright blue sky enough for us to sit on one of the grassy knolls opposite the runway and watch the planes taking off, eating our food off our laps.

I don’t ask why Jaxon has plastic sheeting in the trunk so we can sit on the grass and not get our clothes dirty, and he doesn’t mention me trying to feed him with my fingers. But we do talk about planes. Jaxon points out the planes as they take off and land and their owners. If he expects me to be impressed, I’m not. But give him his due, he notices.

“So flying isn’t your thing.”

“I’d rather see the world than fly over it. I much prefer slow travel. It’s cheaper to walk everywhere. Best way to go.”

“What if you wanted to go to Singapore?”