“I’m sad to tell you this flight has been overbooked,” she said. From her peppy voice and big smile, she didn’t seem sad at all.
“What’s that mean for me, exactly?” I asked, my dread growing. “I have a confirmed seat.” I dealt with bureaucracy and red tape all the time, but overbooking flights was something I’d never understood. How did that even happen? It wasn’t like the number of seats was a surprise to them.
“It means that you’re no longer on the flight,” she explained. “You and a couple other volunteers gave up your seats to accommodate that family. Otherwise, they would’ve had to be split up.”
“Volunteers?” I repeated, following her gesture. Off to the side of the seating area, a family with seven children smiled back at me. The children were tiny and adorable, with big eyes and the kind of cuteness you saw in musicals about orphans finding new homes. Outraged, I turned back toward the agent. “How can you do that? I checked in way ahead of time! I have a wedding to get to. I can’t miss it.”
The woman produced a boarding pass. “We’ve more than made up for it. We’ve booked you on another flight, to Philadelphia—one that’s leaving sooner. And you’ve even been upgraded to first class for your inconvenience.”
“That’s something,” I said. I was still annoyed at this, simply out of principle. I liked order and procedure. Altering those threw off my world. I looked down at the boarding pass and then did a double take. “It’s leaving now!”
She nodded. “Like I said, sooner. I’d hurry up if I were you.”
Then, on cue, I heard a last-call announcement for my new flight, saying all passengers need to be on board now, as they were about to shut the cabin doors. I wasn’t the swearing type, but I almost was then—especially when I saw that my new gate was on the opposite side of the terminal. Without another word, I grabbed my things and sprinted toward the gate as quickly as I could, making a mental note to write a letter of complaint to the airline. Through some miracle, I made it just before my new flight was closed to passengers, though the agent working that gate sternly told me that next time, I should plan ahead and allow more time.
I ignored her and headed into the airplane, where I was greeted by a much nicer flight attendant—especially when she saw my first class ticket. “You’re right here, Miss Melrose,” she said, pointing to the third row of the cabin. “We’re so glad you could join us.”
She helped me put my suitcase in the overhead bin, which proved to be pretty difficult since other, earlier passengers had taken up most of the space. It required some creative knowledge of spatial relations, and when we finally managed it, I practically passed out into my seat, exhausted from this unexpected flurry of excitement. So much for a relaxing trip. I had just enough time to fasten my seat belt before the plane began backing up. Feeling a little steadier, I plucked the safety card from its pocket so that I could follow along with the attendant’s presentation. No matter how many times I flew, I always thought it was important to be up to speed on procedures. I was watching the attendant fasten an oxygen mask when a familiar and intoxicating scent washed over me. In all of the chaos of making this flight, I hadn’t even bothered to pay attention to my seatmate.
Adrian.
I stared in disbelief. He was watching me with amusement and had no doubt been waiting to see how long it would take me to notice him. I didn’t even bother asking what he was doing here. I’d known he was flying out of LAX, and through some wacky twist of happenstance, I’d been bumped to his flight.
“This is impossible,” I exclaimed. The scientist in me was too amazed to fully realize the uncomfortable nature of the situation I now found myself in. “It’s one thing for me to get moved to a new flight. But to end up next to you? Do you know what the odds of that are? It’s incredible.”
“Some might call it fate,” he said. “Or maybe there just aren’t that many flights to Philadelphia.” He raised a glass of clear liquid to me in a toast. Since I’d never seen Adrian drink water, I had to assume it was vodka. “Nice to see you, by the way.”
“Um, you too.”
The engines roared to life around us, momentarily sparing me from conversation. Reality began sinking in. I was trapped on a five-hour flight with Adrian Ivashkov. Five hours. Five hours sitting only a few inches from him, smelling his overpriced cologne and looking into those knowing eyes. What was I going to do? Nothing, of course. There was nowhere to go, nowhere to escape since even first-class passengers weren’t allowed parachutes. My heart began to race as I frantically groped for something to say. He was watching me in silence, still with that small smirk, waiting for me to lead the conversation.
“So,” I said at last, staring at my hands. “How’s, uh, your car?”
“I left it out on the street. Figured it’ll be fine there while I’m gone.”
I jerked my head up, jaw dropping. “You did what? They’ll tow it if it’s left there overnight!”
Adrian was laughing before I even finished. “So that’s what it takes to get a passionate reaction, huh?” He shook his head. “Don’t worry, Sage. I was just kidding. It’s tucked away safely in my building’s parking lot.”
I felt my cheeks burn. I hated that I’d fallen into his joke and was even a little embarrassed that I’d just flipped out over a car. Admittedly, it wasn’t just any car. It was a beautiful, classic Mustang that Adrian had recently purchased. In fact, he’d bought it to impress me, pretending he couldn’t drive manual transmission in order to spend more time with me while I taught him. I thought the car was amazing, but it still astonished me that he would have gone to that much trouble for us to be together.
We reached our cruising altitude, and the flight attendant returned to get Adrian another drink. “Anything for you, miss?” she asked.
“Diet Coke,” I said automatically.
Adrian tsked once she was gone. “You could’ve gotten that for free back in coach.”
I rolled my eyes. “Do I have to spend the next five hours being harassed? If so, I’ll go back in coach and let some lucky person ‘upgrade’ to my seat.”
Adrian held up his hands in a placating gesture. “No, no. Carry on. I’ll entertain myself.”
Entertaining himself turned out to be doing a crossword puzzle in one of the in-flight magazines. I took out Ms. Terwilliger’s book and tried to read, but it was hard to focus with him beside me. I kept sneaking glances out of the corner of my eye, partly to see if he was looking at me and partly just to study his features. He was the same Adrian as ever, annoyingly good looking with his tousled brown hair and sculpted face. I vowed I wouldn’t speak to him, but when I noticed he hadn’t written anything in a while and was tapping his pen loudly on the tray, I couldn’t help myself.
“What is it?” I asked.
“Seven-letter word for ‘cotton gin pioneer.’”
“Whitney,” I replied.
He leaned over and wrote in the letters. “‘Dominates the Mohs’ scale.’ Also seven letters.”
“Diamond.”
Five words later, I realized what was happening. “Hey,” I told him. “I am not doing this.”
He looked up at me with angelic eyes. “Doing what?”
“You know what. You’re luring me in. You know I can’t resist—”
“Me?” he suggested.
I pointed at the magazine. “Random trivia.” I angled my body away from him and made a big show of opening my book. “I have work to do.”
I felt Adrian look over my shoulder, and I tried to ignore how aware of his proximity I was. “Looks like Jackie’s still got you working hard in her class.” Adrian had met Ms. Terwilliger recently and had somehow charmed his way into a first-name basis.