The Layover Read online

  After meandering through the hordes of holiday travelers and boarding the plane, I realize that I’m really doing this.

  I’m really leaving him.

  Chapter 2

  By the time my plane lands, I’ve realized three things: 1.) I need to hurry up and rewrite my list of resolutions. 2.) Babies should be forever banned from all flights. 3.) Some people think sharing a row means they have to divulge their entire life story to you.

  I’ve learned more about the complexities of shoveling cow dung than I’ll ever need to know, thanks to the man who was sitting next to me.

  “I hope I didn’t bore you too much with my talk, young lady.” He smiles as he stands up. “If you’re ever in California, remember to visit my ranch. I’ll show you how to make the finest manure you’ve ever seen.”

  “I will definitely do that...” I wait for him to walk away and look over my shoulder. Several passengers have yet to get off the plane so I’ll wait to get up; my next flight won’t board for another few hours.

  Pulling out my phone, I notice that I have new voice mails. Before I can see who they’re from, my best friend David’s face flashes across the screen.

  “Hey, David.”

  “Hey, David?” He mocks me. “Where are you?”

  “Um...” I hesitate.

  “Um? It’s Friday and I’m at Starbucks, ready to listen to a week’s worth of ‘Fuck Adrian’ talk. I practically look forward to this every week.”

  “What? No you don’t!”

  “Of course, I don’t.” He scoffs. “Seriously though, where are you? Are you close by?”

  “Is Atlanta considered close by?”

  The line is suddenly silent. Then I hear him laughing—laughing hysterically.

  “Is that the name of a new restaurant downtown? What street is it on? I’m on my way.”

  “Atlanta as in Georgia, David.” My voice cracks a bit.

  “What?!”

  “I um...I decided to leave Adrian this morning. I don’t want to marry him.”

  “Then you could’ve just said you didn’t want to marry him. You didn’t have to fly out of the state to make your point.” He sighs, and then he gets into his overprotective mode. “How long do you plan to be gone?”

  “Two weeks.”

  “Two weeks?” He sounds shocked. “Do you have any money? Did you tell your boss?”

  “No...And I kinda told my boss to fuck-off a couple hours ago.”

  “Should I assume that Adrian has no idea that you’re in Atlanta?”

  “You should.” I can practically picture him shaking his head and crossing his arms. Even though we’ve been best friends for over a decade, whenever I’m upset he treats me like I’m his little sister. (And he hates Adrian...Always has.)

  “Okay...I’ll have my secretary wire you a couple thousand. Is Atlanta your final destination?”

  “Boston.”

  “Boston, Paris?” He raises his voice. “You don’t know anyone in Boston! And you damn sure don’t—” He stops. “What do you honestly expect to happen when you come back to Nashville in two weeks? Did you plan this runaway trip or did you just wake up this morning and decide to jump on a plane?”

  I don’t answer.

  “Figures.” He lets out a long sigh. “I’ll make some hotel arrangements and have a driver meet you. Do you plan on calling anyone before tonight’s event, or are you going to make them hire a search party?”

  “You can tell them I’m not coming at exactly six fifty two.”

  “Why six fifty two? Wait, you know what? I don’t even want to know.”

  “Fine. Just don’t say a word about it until then, okay? Not even to Amy. ”

  “Who is Amy?”

  “Your girlfriend.”

  “From last week.” He snorts. “This week it’s Rachel. Can I tell her?”

  “No!”

  He laughs, and then he clears his throat. “I’m very proud of you, Paris. Glad you finally woke up and saw the fucking light—even though the way you’re going about it is the stupidest shit I’ve ever heard. Now, if only we could find someone who knew how to fuck you right.”

  I hang up and roll my eyes. Conversations with David always end in sexual innuendos, and whenever we’re together, people always assume that we’re more than friends.

  We’re not. Far from it.

  Although he’s insanely attractive and women cling to him like magnets, in my eyes, he’s still the boy who popped my bra straps in middle school.

  Maybe he’s right, maybe this plan IS stupid...Then again, he critiques porn for a living...

  ***

  I’m two seconds away from jumping out of my chair and screaming, “Please shut the hell up!” to the arguing couple behind me. They woke me up an hour ago, and I haven’t been able to go back to sleep since.

  Apparently, the douchebag boyfriend is insisting that she suck up her tears and act happy whenever they land to meet his family. She, on the other hand, hates his parents and is threatening to go home and leave him by himself.

  I’m tempted to turn around and tell her to leave his ass, but they start kissing.

  Ugh...

  “Passengers heading to Washington DC,” a voice calls over the intercom, “we are about to begin the boarding process. At this time, I ask that any passengers with disabilities and any passengers traveling with small children make their way to the desk.”

  Knowing that this process will take forever, I pull a notepad from my purse and start to write my newest resolutions. I want these to be my best ones yet.

  I’m not going to promise to go to the gym more often—that never works, and I’m definitely not going to promise to eat healthier foods. McDonald’s is my go-to comfort food and I’m never giving that shit up.

  This year, I’m focusing on the shit I actually want. The shit I’ve been holding myself back from. Starting with number one: “Dump Adrian’s ass.”

  I write that one down twice, and I almost make it my ‘number eleven,’ but I don’t want to waste such a special honor on him.

  “First class passengers may now board the plane...”

  I scribble a few more, writing the first few things that come to mind.

  Before I can read over it and see if everything is exactly how it should be, my zone is called. My seat is listed as “To Be Determined,” so I’m pretty sure that means I’ll be sitting in the worst possible spot. Right next to the restroom.

  Annoyed, I hand my ticket over to the agent.

  “Did you not want to sit in first class, Miss Weston?” He raises his eyebrow.

  “What? What are you talking about?”

  He points at his screen. “You have a first class seat for this flight.”

  I look at him in absolute shock. I’ve never flown first class before.

  “Is that a yes or would you like to graciously give up your seat to a—”

  “Nope.” I tell him thank you and anxiously take my spot in the boarding line.

  Maybe this runaway trip won’t be a complete bust after all...

  With just two passengers left in front of me, my phone rings.

  It’s London. My sister.

  “Yes?” I try to sound normal.

  “Did you forget about me picking you up today? Where are you?”

  “I’m...” I want to tell her the truth, but I know she won’t understand.

  She’s been married to her college sweetheart since she was twenty one and she’s the epitome of what it means to be a “fairytale chaser.” In fact, when I told her that Adrian wasn’t the man I thought he was and that I wanted to break up with him, she cried.

  She said, “Prince Charming doesn’t always wear his shining armor. He has his faults. You shouldn’t break up with him just because things have been rough for a few months. Especially not when years of eternal happiness are right around the corner!”

  That was the biggest line of bullshit I’d ever heard, and that was also two years ago...

  “I g
uess I just lost track of time,” I say. “Can I meet you?”

  “Sure! Meet me at Sweet Falls Country Club, back by the pool, okay? We can eat dinner together! It’s going to be so much fun! Just you and me!”

  I shake my head at her terrible inability to lie. “I’ll see you soon.”

  She squeals as she ends the call.

  Finally stepping onto the plane, I find my row and take the aisle seat—silently hoping that the pilot will forego protocol and take off right away.

  Adrian’s latest text is going to make me vomit: “Hey, babe. Remember to look shocked at first, but not too shocked. Save your best face for when you actually SEE the ring...If you need an example, check out this video on YouTube. This woman nails it perfectly. Can you also pick up some beer on your way here, too? Keep it in your sister’s trunk. The guys are coming over to celebrate with us later.”

  I delete his text and damn near throw my phone down the aisle.

  Please hurry the hell up and get this plane into the sky...

  More passengers walk past me and I nervously bite my nails. I look at my watch and realize that the main doors are about to close. Since it seems as if everyone scheduled for this flight is already on board, I unbuckle my seatbelt and move to the window seat.

  “Strawberries and champagne, Miss?” A flight attendant holds out a tray.

  “No, thanks. I don’t have any cash on me.”

  “No, Miss.” She laughs. “First class passengers get unlimited refreshments before takeoff and throughout the flight. Since it’s a little after the holidays, you can have complimentary champagne as well. The only thing you have to pay for is alcohol.”

  My eyes widen and I happily take the food away from her, stuffing down everything within seconds.

  “Ladies and gentlemen aboard flight number 743, the main flight doors will be closing in sixty seconds,” an attendant speaks into a mic. “We now ask that you stow away all portable electronic devices, as the pilot will begin taxi take-off once the doors close.”

  I let out a sigh of relief and lean back in my chair, slipping a pair of shades over my eyes. I’ve turned off my phone, and I sincerely hope that Adrian’s embarrassment at my absence will be as brutal as he deserves it to be.

  Before I can drift into dreams of him getting hit by a bus, a deep voice sounds to my left.

  “You’re in my seat,” it says.

  “Am I?” I don’t look over at him. “Or are you just saying that because you almost missed this flight and want to sit in first class?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “I’ve tried sneaking into first class before, but just so you know, it doesn’t work. They’re going to put you out once they realize you don’t belong.”

  He laughs and settles into the seat next to me. “Very cute.”

  “Ladies and gentlemen...” The flight attendant begins her safety demonstration. “Please sit back and enjoy the flight.”

  My heart starts to race as the plane picks up speed on the runway, as it launches into the sky.

  I’m crossing my fingers and my toes, hoping that nothing will ruin this moment—that I won’t wake up seconds from now and realize that this is all a dream.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, you are now permitted to retrieve your personal electronic devices,” a voice says over the intercom. “You are also free to move about the cabin.”

  Thank God! It’s definitely not a dream!

  With my eyes shut, I reach up and twist the air nozzle above my seat—directing it away from me, but I feel a warm hand grabbing mine.

  Annoyed, I use my other hand to slide the shades off my face. I prepare my best scowl and get ready to tell this asshole to keep his hands to his side of the seat, but no words come out.

  Oh. My. Fucking. God.

  I feel my mouth dropping open and try to close it, but I can’t.

  The man sitting next to me is utter perfection. Period.

  He’s dressed in a flawlessly tailored black suit with sparkling silver cufflinks, a silk tie that’s worth my entire year’s salary, and I’m pretty sure his shoes are custom made.

  His deep green eyes are currently piercing through mine—gleaming in the light. And his pearly white smile is damn near lethal. As he tilts his head to the side, I notice that his jet black hair is slightly curly, that his full lips are beyond tempting.

  “Were you about to say something to me?” He smiles.

  “Yes.” I manage to regain control of my mouth. “Can you let go of my hand, please?”

  “Can you admit that you’re in my seat?”

  “Would you like it back?”

  “No, but I think you can turn the air valve off instead of making it blow on me. That’s a bit rude, don’t you think?”

  “Sorry.” I switch it off and he lets my hand go.

  “Where are you headed?” he asks.

  I don’t answer. I’m still entranced; I’ve never seen anyone who looks this good in person.

  Okay, this might actually be a dream...

  “Are you partially deaf?” He raises his eyebrow and leans forward, talking into my right ear. “Where are you headed?”

  “The same place you’re headed.” I manage.

  “You don’t look like you’re dressed for a Washington winter.”

  “You know,” I say, slowly coming back to my senses, “just because we’re sitting next to each other, doesn’t mean we have to talk for the entire flight.” I point at the magazine in his lap. “I’m sure that Forbes is just begging to be read. That fiscal crisis headline looks fascinating.”

  “I’ve already read it.”

  “And your iPod?” I point at the white ear-buds peaking from underneath his coat pocket. “Surely you have something to listen to right now.”

  “It died on my last flight.” He smiles again, temporarily rendering me speechless with his eyes. “I think you and I should talk for the entire flight.”

  I shake my head. I’ve seen this scenario in one too many Law and Order episodes: Girl meets hot stranger. Hot stranger charms girl. Girl starts talking about her life and finds herself revealing personal information. Then hot stranger leads her into a dark alley and strangles her to death. Cue theme music...

  “No, thanks.” I pull my iPod out of my pocket. “My music is fully charged, so feel free to talk to yourself during this flight, but—”

  “You seem tense.” He lifts the iPod from my hands. “Why is that?”

  “Did you just take my iPod?”

  “I did.”

  “Okay.” I roll my eyes and hold out my hand. “I don’t know if you’re from this country or not, but we consider taking other people’s shit stealing, so I highly suggest that you give that back before I make a scene.”

  Still smiling, he tucks my iPod into his jacket. “If you’d like, we can go into the restroom and make a scene together.”

  “Would either of you like something to drink?” The flight attendant interrupts us with a beverage cart.

  Neither of us says a word. We simply stare at one another—him with a devilish look in his eyes, me with an annoyed one.

  “I’ll have a Sprite.” I sigh. “And another glass of champagne, please. Actually, make it two.”

  “The same,” Hot Stranger says. “And two gin and tonics.”

  She nods and makes our drinks within seconds. She waits for us to pull down our trays, and then she whispers, “Happy New Year” before walking to the next row.

  I quickly toss back all of my drinks and regret not asking for more. I have the sudden feeling that this is going to be a long flight. I’m also sure that I’m going to have to put this man in his place before we land.

  “I think you need one of these.” The sound of his voice makes me look at him again.

  “What?”

  “You need a drink.” He holds it out for me. “A real drink.”

  “No, thanks.” I push it away. “I don’t trust where that’s been.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “
I didn’t stutter. I. Don’t. Trust. Where. That’s. Been.”

  “You think I did something to this drink?”

  “No, but I’ve watched enough Law & Order to know that you could have.”

  “Law & what?”

  “Law & Order.” I cross my arms. “It’s a TV show, and it deals with people like you. People who are nice to strangers, just so they can satisfy their murder addictions and kill them. ”

  “I look like a murderer to you?” He’s smirking.

  “No, but since I took my eyes off of you for five seconds, you could’ve used that time to drug my drink.”

  “You’ve only been able to take your eyes off of me for five seconds?”

  “Were you listening to anything else I said?”

  “Not a word.” He presses the call button above his seat.

  “Yes, sir?” A different flight attendant immediately appears by his side, making a failed attempt to hide her flushed cheeks.

  “Can I have two more gin and tonics, please? And could you hand them directly to my friend to ensure that I don’t slip any drugs into them?”

  She nods and scurries away, quickly returning. After she hands them to me, she looks my seat-mate up and down, and murmurs, “Damn...”

  “Is that better?” He looks at me and offers his hand. “I’m Blake.”

  “I’m not interested, but I appreciate the drinks. I’ll pay you back when we land.”

  “I can’t know your name?”

  “Yes, if you give me back my iPod.”

  “I’d rather not.” He leans forward and squints at the necklace I’m wearing. It’s a bouquet of roses with the letter “P” at the center. Then he gently touches my wrist, where my bracelet of red hearts and an Eiffel Tower charm are dangling. “Is your name Paris?”

  My eyes widen. “No. Nice try, though.”

  “If you show me your ticket and that’s not your name, I’ll give you your iPod and leave you alone for the rest of this flight.”

  “And if it is?”

  “We get to know each other a little better...Is that not your name?”

  My cheeks turn red and I know it’s pointless to lie.

  “I thought so. Where are you really headed, Paris?”