by Kat T. Masen
Then I met Adam.
We worked together at a bar in a popular hotel in San Francisco. He worked the night shift and I worked weekends. We collided often, and he was fun … back then. We had a lot in common, bar humor, and we hauled ass for the same ungrateful boss. We just fell into this routine and before you knew it, he had moved in and we were sharing soap.
Adam is a gamer. He aspires to invent some video game that will make him a fortune. Every waking moment, he’s online playing some military game and sometimes—much to my disgust—he doesn’t shower for days.
We don’t see eye to eye on that, but I have long stopped complaining. I take additional shifts to escape the mundane life we have built together.
Our last encounter—yesterday afternoon—ended in the usual fight that comes up every week. I asked him if he was looking for work, and he called me a nagger. I then asked him to tidy the apartment before I came home, and he called me his mom.
I left without a goodbye, grateful to escape him and this so-called funk he is in. We are stuck in this vicious cycle of nothing. And as much as I can bury my head in the sand and forget that this is my life—my body refuses to allow me. It wants so much more. This man, Noah Mason, according to the passenger list in my hands—has sparked something inside me.
3
“Noah Mason. You just had to ask.”
He towers over me, tall, with nice broad shoulders. He’s wearing a white business shirt, tucked and tapered perfectly to his very muscular body.
I’m ashamed to be searching for his name and embarrassed that he caught me looking. There is nowhere to go from here, stuck thousands of feet in the air with no escape unless I want to plummet to my own death. “Can I help you, Mr. Mason?”
“Just stretching my legs.” He plays with his chin, and I’m drawn to his hands. Those masculine hands. “Shall we resume our conversation regarding your distaste for nuts?”
I press my lips together to suppress my smile, but struggle and allow one to slip. “I think that conversation is tapped out. However, we could start one on pretzels? I’m also not a fan of those.”
“What are you a fan of?”
“Hmm, let’s see. I love chocolate. Hershey’s are my favorite. I hate peanuts, but I love peanut butter.”
“And you don’t like married men hitting on you.”
“Oh please, who does? Marriage is sanctity. You don’t just enter into it if you don’t commit yourself one hundred and ten percent.”
He pauses, his expression bitter. “I agree. Are you married, Olivia?”
I love the way he says my name. It rolls off his tongue, not like it sounds when Adam yells, ‘Livvy, what the fuck’s for dinner?’
“Olivia?” he asks again.
“Uh, no. Haven’t found the one.”
“The one. You believe in the one?” He leans against the wall, resting his arms and showcasing his toned biceps. I needed to stop staring at them. Every time I do, I am afraid I will try to jump him and have my way.
“I believe there is this person that comes into your life and you just know. Anyways, stupid probably. What would I know?” I turn my focus away, annoyed that I’ve revealed so much to a passenger. Why is Adam getting to me so much today? I consider myself a monogamous person. I should probably shut down this conversation, yet I can’t.
Noah leans in. All I can think about right at this very moment are his pants and how I haven’t felt a man so masculine near me in such a long time … if not forever.
“I believe it’s all bullshit,” he whispers, surprising me with his callous response. “One person for the rest of your life. But hey, different strokes for different folks, right?”
“Your eyes,” I blurt out, staring at them while trying to catch my breath. “They’re so familiar. Like I’ve seen them before.” I’m racking my brain, a distraction from his face being so close that I could practically touch me with his tongue. “Do I know you from somewhere?”
He pulls back slightly, much to my disappointment. “Chicago.”
“Chicago?”
“Naperville.”
“Naperville?” I repeat in confusion.
He raises his hand, dragging the tip of his finger along my collarbone. My skin reacts instantly with a shiver, a domino effect that travels to every point in my body and creates a nuclear meltdown.
“Right here.” He stops just shy of where the knot in my scarf sits. “I remember this tiny birthmark you have. Shaped like a love-heart. I would stare at it when you served me my vanilla milkshake.”
Without thinking, I place my finger on top of his. My mom has the same birthmark in the exact same spot. It is small, nothing I am overly ashamed about. When I was younger, Mom told me it was because Cupid put his stamp on me and I was destined for love I clung onto that thought, until her theory was blown out of the water when she and Dad split up.
And then it clicks. The boy who came into the diner that summer I worked there.
“Vanilla milkshake with a banana on the side. That was you. You ordered it every morning for three weeks straight. I was like your milkshake bitch by the end of summer break.”
He grins. “I never forget a face, especially one like yours. I was fifteen. We spent the summer in Chicago visiting family. Milkshake bitch, huh?”
I drop my head with a smile, remembering this lanky boy who would sit and order the same thing every morning. His eyes were incredibly hazel, a shade that I had never seen before. They stood out against his summer tan. “You wore the same t-shirt almost every day. It was an R2-D2 shirt. I had no idea at the time, since I had never watched Star Wars.”
“You’d never watched Star Wars?”
“What did you say? Different strokes for different folks.”
The distance between us remains close, and I wonder what it would be like to reach over and caress his face, pull him close to me and kiss his lips. It could happen. He is standing so close. Our breathing becomes in sync.
“Cabin crew, please be seated.”
Noah backs away, tilting his head to give me a glance one more time. The trail of his gaze begins at the ground, inching its way up and lingering around my torso. With every expression he reveals on his handsome face, my body reacts with lust. The cabin feels stifling hot or maybe—this is what it feels like. Something I have been deprived of.
I reluctantly take a seat, quietly so as not to draw attention. Stella pulls the curtain and plonks herself beside me, watching me until she breaks. “Okay, spill the beans. What the hell was that? I mean, wow, talk about yummy. Giovanni would dump that rowing team faster than you could say ‘hand job.’”
“What?” I play dumb. “That was nothing. Nice gentleman.”
“Hey, it’s me. You can’t pull that ‘nice gentleman’ stuff. I’ve seen you naked in the change room.”
“You saw one nipple.”
“It was enough to call you naked. What’s going on, Livvy? You’ve just been really down lately and then I see this and you’re all weird about it.”
“Things with Adam are just …”
“Shit because he’s a deadbeat?”
“Stella! Way to speak your mind.”
“What? It’s true. He’s punching above his weight. He always has. You could do so much better. 4A could be just the man to tear you away from him.”
“Adam’s not a deadbeat… he’s just…”
“A free-loader?”
“Okay, do you have verbal diarrhea? Things aren’t exciting with Adam. We’re at different stages in our lives. There, you happy?
“So, lose him.”
“I can’t just lose him. I’ve invested seven years into this relationship. That’s gotta count for something?”
“Life lesson, sweetie. It’s taught you there is better out there for you. Like 4A. He doesn’t seem attached. Go for it.”
Stella makes it sound so simple. There is a part of me that agrees with her but an even bigger part of me that doesn’t want to acknowledge that I have wasted
years with someone for what? Nothing. We might have moved in together, but Adam and I haven’t moved a single inch in our relationship.
Noah Mason. The name ignites something inside me.
A little harmless flirting will be fine … right?
4
We are three hours into the flight with only an hour left until landing.
Most passengers are settled, aside from one lady who has a terrible headache and demands that Stella serve her more wine. Stella stands her ground, suggesting that some water would be better suited to cure the headache. The lady doesn’t react well to that idea, rambling on about her ex-husband and his new wife stealing all her kids for the Christmas holidays. The thing about Stella is, once you get her started on men who act like assholes you will never—and I mean never—hear the end of it.
Okay, I am annoyed because she had a point when she spoke to me before.
I am wasting time with Adam. It’s not like I have marriage or babies on my brain. Quite the opposite.
It’s just this dead end. I’m here, staring at nothing, no fork in the road giving me options. Life is all about work and no play. I can’t even recall the last time I just let loose and had fun. I wouldn’t call myself a workaholic but escape, well—I yearn for it. And that alone spoke volumes.
The assistance light goes off, requesting I attend to a passenger. It’s Noah. I bounce lightly in place. The excitement of talking to him and staring at his gorgeous face makes it difficult to remain professional. I straighten my clothes, make a quick glance in the mirror to see if I have any lipstick on my teeth, and prepare myself for another encounter that will either leave me feeling awkward or hot and bothered.
Either way, I’m screwed.
Pulling the curtain aside, I make my way there, leaning over him as I turn the bell off to be met with a smirk. My breasts hover over his face—an accidental move on my part.
“I should ring the bell more often. The service is ah … let’s say … satisfying.”
“I aim to please.” I add a wink, teasing him and enjoying the sexual banter. “Now, how can I help you?”
Raising his finger, he motions for me to move in closer. Thankfully, the lady beside him is fast asleep. I can smell his aftershave, a mixture of masculine scents designed to lure me in and rip my clothes off, then beckon for him to take me right here.
“How can you help me, Olivia?” His voice is laced with pure desire, his eye contact firm as he waits.
We are on a God damn plane. The only place I can help him is in the lavatory and I’m not ready for that. That whole ‘mile-high club’ thing is not for me.
Is it?
I straighten my posture, ignoring this possibility. “How about nuts? I mean, some nuts? I’ve got plenty of nuts for you.”
Fail.
He grins, dropping his head and teasing me with a lick of his lips. “Should it not be the other way around?”
I give up, laughing softly so as not to disrupt the other passengers. “I’ll be back.”
“Wait,” he calls, unbuckling his seat belt. “I’ll join you.”
With every step I take, I’m nervous that he is watching my every move. When we get to the galley, I search for the nuts as he closes the curtain.
“There’s a bag here somewhere,” I continue searching, mindful of his body close to me.
“Olivia.” He breathes softly in my ear as his body rides up behind me.
I close my eyes, my chest rising and falling, aware that his every breath against my skin is weakening my argument that I have someone back home.
“Yes … Mr. Mason.” I can barely speak, my words trapped.
“See, you call me Mr. Mason, and all I want to do is pull that skirt of yours up and taste you.”
Holy—motherfucking—hotness.
My stomach is tied in knots, a flutter of excitement and nerves all mixed into one. Clearing my throat, I blurt out exactly what I’m thinking. “And when you look at me like that, Mr. Mason, all I want to do is shove your face between my legs and demand you taste me.”
Suddenly, his lips smash against mine, quick and heated. He pins me against the cabinet in a mad rush, depriving me of air as we kiss deeply.
I lose myself in this battle for only a few seconds before Stella and Giovanni’s voices become closer and closer.
Pushing Noah away, I quickly grab a packet of nuts and shove it at his chest, much to his confusion. The curtain draws open. Giovanni and Stella stop in their tracks and halt their laughter.
“Oh, excuse me. We didn’t realize this was, uh …” Giovanni is struggling to compose his shock, searching my face for an answer and trying to check Noah out at the same time. I’m doing everything I can to drop my body heat, well aware that my cheeks are flushed, and that I’ve been caught in the act of infidelity.
“As much as I would hate, and trust me, I hate to do this, we have to prepare for landing,” Giovanni says.
Noah smirks, biting his bottom lip before thanking me for my service and walking back to his seat. As soon as he is out of sight, Giovanni almost pushes me to the ground in excitement.
“Honey! I can’t even deal with this. He is soooo gorgeous!” He raises his hand, fanning himself in his usual dramatic fashion. “Tell us everything that happened.”
“Nothing happened because you two goons ruined it.” I pout, crossing my arms and ignoring Stella’s annoying glee.
“You finally listened to me. So, you’re dumping Adam?” Stella asks.
“I don’t know what that was.” I lean back against the wall, confused by the moment of lust that consumed me. How could one kiss change my entire thought process? “Noah and I kinda knew each other from way back, and out of all places—Chicago.”
“It’s like you’re meant to be. Kismet.” Giovanni beams.
“What?”
“Fate, destiny,” Stella explains. “Out of all places, why here? Why now?”
“I don’t know,” I say, trying to explain. “I’m at work and he is going somewhere. It’s not kismay.”
“Kismet,” Giovanni corrects me.
“Whatever.” I raise my voice in frustration. “It was hot. You guys stopped it. Probably for the best. Now, let’s land, I’m tired.”
I am far from tired. The exact opposite. I am so highly strung and sexually riled up that the slight turbulence as we begin our descent does nothing to take my mind off it. I grab a bottle of water, finishing it in almost one gulp. Taking a deep breath, I clear my mind and prepare for landing.
“Ladies and gentlemen, we have just been cleared to land at O’Hare Airport. Please make sure your seat belt is securely fastened. The flight attendants are currently passing around the cabin to make a final check and pick up any remaining cups and glasses. Thank you.”
I grab Stella, forcefully pushing her out and making her do the final check while I clear the galley and ensure that everything is locked and ready. She returns minutes later with a few cups, tossing them in the trash before taking a seat beside me.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
I shake my head, staring out the window.
“Okay, whenever you’re ready.”
I thing about what happened earlier. I know what I want.
Sex.
Raw, uninhibited, sex.
The kind of sex that has no strings attached and makes me feel alive. I miss the feeling of desire, the back-and-forth sexual banter followed by an all-night fucking session in some dirty place that normally would be a big no-no. And if Noah could make me feel alive with only one kiss and a few dirty words, imagine what he could do behind closed doors.
“I’m going to go for it,” I mumble to myself.
“With that guy?” Stella asks.
I nod at the same time as the plane hits the tarmac. As soon as we are cleared for arrival and the seat belt sign comes off, I stand by the door. It opens and passengers line up. Both Stella and I say goodbye to the guests, thanking them for joining us and choosing our airline. Noah i
s two people away from me, and with every step he takes, my knees begin to shake, threatening to cave beneath me.
A moment later, he stands beside me, latching onto my arm and pulling me aside. He takes out his wallet and removes a business card, placing it in the palm of my hand. “Call me. Tonight,” he demands, rather than asks.
His gaze is alert and his lips are pressed tightly together. His stance is powerful, and just when I’m about to tell him I’ll call him, my eyes dart towards his open wallet that still remains in his hand.
Inside the plastic sleeve is a photo of him, a woman, and a child. The three of them look happy, a family unit. Then, it hits me. “You’re married.”
He takes a moment to realize that I’m staring at his wallet, closing it shut in frustration and shoving it into his pocket. “Olivia, it’s not what you think.”
“That’s what they all say, Noah.”
I stare him directly in the eye, frowning with disappointment. My instincts were once again wrong. When it comes to men, I have no clue. All this time he was married, looking for some floozy to suck him off, then he’ll run back to his wife and play happy families.
“Excuse me. I have a job to do.”
I step to the side, smiling as I say goodbye to each person. Noah is smart enough to avoid me, stepping off the plane. When everyone is gone and us crew grab our bags, I walk ahead of Stella on purpose and switch on my cell. There’s only one message, and it’s from Adam.
I think we should see other people.
Merry Christmas, Liv.
The giant slap in the face couldn’t have come at a worst time. I’m not stupid; this means he is already seeing someone.
Christmas Eve, and I’ll be all alone.
I hang my head low, holding back my tears and counting down the minutes till I can hop into a cab, arrive at the hotel, and drown myself in the cheapest bottle of wine they have.
Merry fucking Christmas to me.
