Page 16 of Not on the Same Page

And then, without another glance at me, he’s getting his boarding pass scanned. He disappears through the door and the shadows of the jet bridge swallow him up.

Finally, I feel like I can breathe. But only for a second, until I remember that I’m about to get into a giant metal tube that is going to somehow shoot itself through thin air well above the clouds for several hours.

When they call my boarding group, I drag my feet to the line. I’m not really sure why my brain seems to think that I’m shuffling forward to my doom, but it translates to feeling like someone is very literally sitting on my chest.

I groan internally. It is so frustrating to know that, logically, people fly all the time and it’s safer than car travel and there’s nothing to worry about but still not be able to turn the nerves down to a more manageable level.

Hoping to build up some good karma with the universe, I let a couple of families board before me and end up being the absolute last person on the plane. The flight attendant smiles apologetically as she tells me the flight is full and I will need to move quickly to my seat so we can take off on time. I shrug that off. It doesn’t really matter as long as I get to Denver in one piece.

That is, until I’m standing in the aisle of the plane and lock eyes with Casey Endersen, who is sitting with the window on one side of him and the airplane’s only empty seat on the other.

“I am in the wrong timeline,” I mutter. “What the hell did I do to piss off the universe?”

“I’m sorry, miss? Did you say something?” The flight attendant’s voice is pinched, like what she’d really like to say is, Move along, lady. It’s time to shoot this thing into the air.

“No, no.” I shake my head. “Thank you for your service.”

Shit, that’s what you say to military personnel, not flight attendants. Great. Another cringy thing for me to replay on a loop late at night when I’m trying to sleep but can’t stop regretting all the stupid things I’ve done over the years.

Bolstering myself with a deep breath that goes nowhere, I make my way down the aisle and to the row with the empty seat. Casey jumps to his feet, standing as upright as he can under the low ceiling of the airplane, and steps over the burly guy with one leg sprawled out into the aisle. The guy grunts and seemingly tries not to roll his eyes as Casey bumps him in an effort to take my bag and stow it in the overhead compartment.

“Thanks,” I say quietly.

Casey’s gaze lands on me, searing in its intensity. “Of course.” He gestures to the two waiting seats. “Do you want the window?”

My mouth suddenly dry, I shake my head quickly. The guy in the aisle seat is kind enough to stand so we can pass—though it looks like he does it unwillingly. Casey reenters first, sitting next to the window. I sink into the middle and buckle my seatbelt as the flight attendants start their safety presentation and the airplane starts to move toward the runway. Thankfully, Casey is silent as they finish, but as soon as they all secure the cabin and take their own seats, my blood rushes to my head, roaring in my ears. I stare at a fixed point on the seat in front of me, trying not to allow that bile flavor back into my mouth. I barely register how hard I’m chewing on my lip, and then again as I raise my left hand to my mouth and bite down on the cuticle of my middle finger.

“The engine is going to increase to full thrust. It’ll be loud.” Casey’s smooth voice is in my ear, the only thing I can hear above my own rapid pulse. “And then we’ll pick up speed until takeoff. It’s pretty cool, actually. Basic physics. The plane remains in the air by keeping four forces in balance.”

Slowly, I turn my head to find his soft gaze on me, his expression carefully neutral.

“What?” I breathe.

He tilts his head. “Sometimes when you can name the beast, it’s easier to deal with,” he says. “Do you want to know how planes fly?”

Blinking, I nod silently.

“Okay.” Gently, he reaches out and pulls my hand from my mouth. He doesn’t interlace our fingers, but he holds my hand between both of his in his lap. His touch surprises me enough to make me forget the impulse to bite my nails, and the gentle swipe of this thumb over the back of my hand seems to calm my heart rate a little.

He always was able to do this—to calm me. It was almost addicting, the sense of ease I got being with him.

Almost. Not enough to overshadow how dangerous to our jobs it could have been had we been caught.

“The four forces are lift, thrust⁠—”

“Sounds sexual,” I say before I can tell myself that should be an inside thought.

But Casey laughs deeply, the sound like rich velvet. My heartbeat slows slightly. Almost unconsciously, his thumb traces a circle around the back of my hand. “Well…” He ticks up a suggestive eyebrow. “It is a long tube gliding through the air.”

I nod emphatically. “Very symbolic.”

“If not a little cliché.” His gaze lingers on me for a moment, and I can’t tear my eyes away. The engine starts, and I jump, but his thumb does another sweep which calms me again.

“What are the other two forces?” I ask as the plane starts moving. “Are they equally suggestive?”

Casey chuckles and shakes his head. “Drag and gravity.”

“Hmm.” I scrunch up my nose. “Disappointing.”