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She shakes her head, propping her elbow on the back of the seat and leaning into it. “You could still be a kidnapper, and I’m a woman who lives alone in a big city. Safety first, seat thief.”

That’s not the real reason, but I let it go because as much as I feel like I had to have met this woman in some kind of previous life or something for how drawn I am to her, I don’t actually know her.

“No last names then. Hey, Amelia, I’m Elliot.

” I stick out my hand, and she hesitates for a split second before sliding her palm against mine.

The jolt of electricity from the connection is surprisingly unsurprising to me, but I think it actually does surprise her because she drops my hand immediately and starts rummaging in her bag for something. I stand, motioning for her to step out of the row.

“What are you doing?” she asks.

I glance up at her. “Your name for your window seat, remember? I’m moving so you can have your rightful seat.”

Amelia laughs, and the sound has my heart speeding up. “I hate window seats. I’m fine with the aisle. You can stay put.”

I chuckle. “So why did you barter with me for it?”

She shrugs. “You’re fun to talk to.”

I open my mouth to respond because fucking shit, I really like her.

But before I have a chance to speak, the flight attendant comes on the loudspeaker.

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome aboard Western Airlines flight 9287 with nonstop service to Boston’s Logan International Airport.

We are expecting an immediate and on time departure, so at this time we ask that you take your seats with your seatbelts securely fastened and stow all carry-on luggage under the seat in front of you or up in an overhead bin. ”

I tune out the rest of the speech as I watch Amelia put her tote on the floor and slide it under the seat in front of her with the toe of her white sneaker before plopping down in the aisle seat and turning to me. “I have to warn you, I suck a little at flying.”

“You’re afraid of flying?”

She shakes her head. “I’m afraid of crashing. Long story. It’s mostly takeoff and landing. And bumps and stuff. Basically, I much prefer my feet on solid ground if at all possible.” The plane roars to life, and she slaps her hands down on the armrests, her grip so tight her knuckles turn white.

“It wasn’t a dildo.”

“What?” she splutters, her eyes going wide.

I chuckle at her response and am satisfied to see her grip loosening just slightly as the plane starts taxiing down the runway.

I reach down and grab my phone out of my briefcase pocket, navigating to the picture Noah sent me and handing it to Amelia.

“The picture of my dog? It’s a crystal, not a dildo. ”

“Fuck, I think that’s the cutest, tiniest dog I’ve ever seen,” she says, her voice taking on that tone people get when they’ve never had a pet but always wanted one.

“Right?” I ask, smiling at the look on her face as she keeps her gaze trained on the picture, her fingers tightening only slightly on the phone as the plane takes off.

“I went to the shelter a couple of years ago thinking I would get a big dog that could come with me on my runs. But then I saw her, and it was like she was begging me to take her home. I think it was the eyes. She doesn’t run with me, but she does stay home and occasionally eat my plants, so it’s a reasonable tradeoff. ”

Amelia laughs and hands me back the phone. “What’s her name?”

“Killer.”

She laughs again, glancing over for one more look at the picture. “She sure looks like one. That little lady could eat every damn thing in my house, and I’d probably thank her for it. She’s that cute.”

I smile, slipping the phone back into my bag. “So, where’s your house?”

“So you can come kidnap me in the middle of the night? Pass. If I won’t even give you my last name, what makes you think I would tell you where my house is?”

I lean back in my seat, propping my leg up on my opposite knee, my body turned to Amelia. “You know you’re weirdly obsessed with kidnapping. You’ve mentioned it at least three times in the hour we’ve known each other.”

“An hour? How do you figure?”

“Well, we met at security, didn’t we? You know, when the TSA agent was fondling your underwear?”

The sound she makes is a mixture between a groan and a laugh, and it’s so erotic that it has all my blood rushing to my dick.

Fuck . Control yourself, Elliot .

“It was so weird. One minute he’s giving me a stern talking to about not bringing water through security and the next my entire suitcase is open on the table.

Life comes at you fast when you’re violating airport security rules.

So anyway, what were you doing just standing there staring at me like a weirdo? ”

“You were the most beautiful girl I’d ever seen, and when I saw your face, my feet forgot how to move.”

Motherfucker. That is the opposite of cool.

Amelia’s face flushes. “I love true crime,” she says quickly, in what I’m assuming is an attempt to change the subject from my accidental confession. “Shows, podcasts, movies, all of it. That’s why I’m oddly fixated on kidnapping. All crime, really.”

“I cry every time I watch the movie Miracle about the 1980 U.S. Olympic ice hockey team.”

She screws up her face in confusion. “What?”

“I thought we were doing confessions. You confessed that you’re kind of a freak, and I confessed that I cry my eyes out every single time I watch Miracle .”

Amelia gives me an unimpressed look. “That’s not a confession. Everyone cries when they watch Miracle .”

The flight attendant stops by to ask if we need anything, and we both decline. “Everyone absolutely does not cry when they watch Miracle . Some people don’t even know about Miracle , the best sports movie in the entire world.”

She shrugs. “I do. I love it. All sports movies, really, but there’s just something about Miracle .”

I press a hand to my chest. “Mystery Girl, we’re obviously meant to be.”

Amelia grabs a bag of gummy bears from her tote and tears it open, picking out two red ones and tipping the bag to me. “Any color except for red.”

“What if red is my favorite?”

“Red is everyone’s favorite. I don’t think I know you well enough to share my red ones yet.”

I dip into the bag, my fingers brushing against hers, and that same jolt spreads out from where our skin touches.

Jesus. If this is attraction, I’ve been doing it wrong this whole time.

I take a couple orange gummy bears and chew thoughtfully.

“I really do like red the best, so I think we better get to know each other, and fast.”

She studies me, running her tongue along her bottom lip in a way that makes me want to lean forward and devour her mouth. Lock her in the bathroom with me and join the mile high club. Take her to my house and never let her leave.

Ugh, maybe I am the creeper. But, like, look at her.

“Okay seat thief, whatcha got?”

“What were you doing in San Francisco?”

She averts her gaze for a split second before landing back on mine. “Work. You?”

“Sort of work, sort of play. I had a conference for a few days and then spent some time with friends. Is Boston home?”

She looks like she’s debating whether to answer me or not but then shrugs and nods. “Yep, for a few years now. What about—” She breaks off when the plane jerks. Letting out a shaky whoosh of breath, she clamps her hand down on mine and holds tight while the plane keeps bumping along.

“You’re fine,” I murmur, laying my free hand on top of hers, stroking my thumb over her knuckles. “It’s just turbulence.”

She squeezes her eyes shut and takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly. The vulnerability and tinge of fear on her face has my heart lurching. I want to keep her hand in mine and wrap her up and make her feel safe forever.

She takes one more deep breath and opens her eyes, glancing over at me. “Thanks for the save, El.”

Shit, her shortening my name is making me feel some kind of way. “Mystery Girl, I don’t even know you and I already think I would do anything for you.”

She blinks at me. “Wow, you really just come right out with it, don’t you?”

I shrug, grabbing a couple more gummy bears and tossing them into my mouth. “I’ve never been a beat around the bush kind of guy. I prefer to say what’s on my mind.”

She eyes me. “Even if what’s on your mind is hitting on a stranger?”

I grin at her. “But you’re not a stranger anymore, are you? I mean, I’ve seen your underwear, we’re sharing a snack, and I know you’re afraid of flying, love true crime, and cry at Miracle . That seems like a solid friendship foundation to me.”

“Friendship, huh?” she asks, grabbing another bag of gummy bears from her bag and tearing it open, tipping it in my direction.

“You bet.”

She smiles at me, and it lights up her whole face. “You say that, but the way you’re looking at me doesn’t exactly scream friendly.”

“And how am I looking at you, Mystery Girl?”

She gives me a sly smile. “A little bit like you can see directly into my head and you want to devour me whole.”

I huff out a laugh because she’s not wrong. “Noticed that, did you?’

“It’s kind of hard to miss. Your eyes give you away.”

With my eyes on hers, I run a finger over her hand to test the waters, and she inhales sharply, goosebumps breaking out over her skin. I feel just that tiny contact everywhere. “Something here, Mystery Girl,” I murmur. “Some big something here.”

Amelia shakes her head, tugging her hand away. “It’s cold in here.”

“Is it?” I ask. “Or is it possible that maybe we were destined to meet right here on this plane.”

Amelia narrows her eyes but unbuckles her seatbelt and turns more fully towards me, tucking her hair behind her ear. “That’s pretty woo-woo, my guy.”

I shrug a shoulder. “My grandma is super woo-woo. Believes in the universe making things happen, and she has full conversations with my dead grandpa over breakfast. I’ve absorbed enough of that over the years to believe that some things are written in the stars.”

“And you think we’re written in the stars?” Her voice drips with skepticism.

“Maybe yes, maybe no,” I say casually, even though I’m one hundred percent sure the answer is yes because no way does this kind of thing just happen.

I unbuckle my own seatbelt and turn so we’re facing each other fully.

“But either way, I think this is the best airplane ride of my life, Mystery Girl.”

Amelia doesn’t say anything, she just looks at me for a second, and then digs into her bag of gummy bears, pulling out a handful of red ones and dropping them into my hand.

My stomach swoops at the gesture, and I think I may be in just a little bit of trouble.

Five hours, four bags of gummy bears, three Diet Pepsis (for her), four Cokes (for me, because Pepsi is the devil’s sauce), endless conversation, and six different spots of turbulence I was grateful as fuck for because it meant I got to hold her hand longer, we make our way through the Boston airport to baggage claim.

We’re walking side-by-side, and we’re not touching but I can feel the heat of her next to me and I’m drawn to it, like my body recognizes hers.

The five-plus hour flight felt like five minutes. My head is racing, trying to figure out a tactful way to ask her for her phone number. If I can take her to dinner. A movie. Literally anywhere if it means I get to spend more time with her.

Falling head over heels for a girl on an airplane definitely does not fit into my orderly existence, but the idea of walking out of this airport and never seeing her again is freaking me the fuck out.

“Doctor Wyles!” I stop walking and turn at the sound of my name, coming face to face with one of my grad students walking quickly through the terminal, straight towards me.

Fuck .

“Jen, nice to see you.”

She comes to a stop in front of me. “I’m so glad to run into you! I had a breakthrough on my thesis over break. I was planning on emailing you when I got back, but here you are!”

I glance over at Amelia, hoping to convey I’m so sorry; the only person I want to talk to is you , but she’s staring at me like she’s never seen me before, her eyes wide, jaw slack. I don’t know what’s going on, but whatever it is, I don’t like it.

“I’m so sorry,” I say to Jen. “I’m actually here with someone, but I’ll have office hours next week if you want to drop by to talk about your thesis.”

“No, no,” Amelia says. “You should talk. A grad thesis is really important.” Her words are jerky and a little fast as she hitches her tote higher on her shoulder and grabs the handle of her carry-on. “I’ll just head to baggage claim.”

“Oh, my god, thank you so much,” Jen says, beaming at Amelia, completely oblivious to the current of energy running between us.

“Wait,” I say as Amelia turns to leave. I reach out and run a hand from her shoulder down her arm, feeling the same electric jolt from the plane.

My stomach clenches at the thought of her walking away from me.

This. Us. Shit. I’ve never felt anything like the way I feel now, and it’s making me a little crazy.

“Seriously, Elliot, it’s cool,” she says, taking a step away and giving me a weak smile that definitely doesn’t reach her eyes. “I have to go anyway. I checked a lot of luggage, and it’s probably already down there.”

“Wait for me at baggage claim, and I’ll help you with it.” I can’t keep the desperation out of my tone. I don’t try very hard. “Please.”

Amelia stares at me for a second before giving me a short nod and turning, walking quickly away. I stare at her back, watching her go, the same feeling I had when I was boarding the plane in San Francisco curling in my gut.

“Okay, so you’ve got to hear this.”

With a sigh, I turn towards my overenthusiastic student, listening with only half my brain, the other half at baggage claim with my brown haired, sparkling eyed mystery girl. All of me sending all my hope out into the universe that she’ll still be waiting when I get there.

Except she’s not. Waiting for me, that is.

There has never been a worse time to be waylaid by a student to talk about things that absolutely could have waited until my office hours, and now Amelia is nowhere to be found.

Not at baggage claim, not on the sidewalk outside the airport waiting for a rideshare, and not in the parking garage, even though I walk every floor looking for her. Twice.

After half an hour of wandering with no trace of Amelia, I slide into my car and face facts.

She’s gone.

And I have no clue where she is, and no way to find her.