25
Slater
Stepping into the plane’s small cabin, I greet the flight attendant, Andy, before scanning the seats for my target. Once my eyes land on her, I realize I can do one of two things: walk past her and sit somewhere else, or take a risk.
With my decision easily made as soon as I catch her shy smile and the subtle blush gracing her beautiful face, my legs move of their own volition, determined steps eating up the narrow blue-carpeted aisle until I find myself stopping at row 13, seats A and B.
“Hey, Rain. Think you’re in my seat, brother,” I lie, knowing he’s well aware that there are no assigned seats on a chartered flight. Looking from me back to where Alina sits next to him by the window seat, he smirks.
“Would you look at that?” Rain chuckles. “It appears I am indeed in the wrong seat. She’s all yours, Slate. Catch up with you later, Ali.”
Ali? I catch the use of the name reserved for “friends” as Rain stands. And I’m not sure if he means Ali’s all mine or the seat itself. Either way, I’ll take both, regardless of the ribbing I’m sure will come once we land.
“See you, Rain,” Ali says, looking confused and unsure about what’s going on. That makes two of us. My behaviour’s so out of character lately, it shocks even me. I’m not this guy. Chicks come to me, not the other way around. For some reason, with her, I don’t give a shit. I’m drawn in.
“Morning, Shadow,” I say, ignoring my own peculiar performance, folding my long legs into the blue leather covered seat beside her.
“Ali,” she corrects, and my smile is huge. Ali.
“Ali, as in ‘the name your friends call you’.” I toss back her words from Saturday night.
“Yes,” she huffs, “it would seem I’ve decided to accept the inevitable, because it appears you, my friend, are relentless, so I might as well make it easier on myself.”
“Attagirl. It’s a trait my mom always said I excelled at,” I tell her, grabbing her knee that’s closest to mine. But the friendly gesture has her practically jumping out of her seat, so I quickly move my hand back into my lap. Strange. I knew she was a bit skittish, and I was only being friendly, but she clearly didn’t like my hands on her. “Sorry,” I mutter, not exactly sure what I’ve done to cause her reaction, but not liking that I made her uncomfortable, not one bit. It’s the last reaction I hoped to evoke from her.
“No, it’s fine. It’s me, I’m sorry,” she says quietly, looking out the plane’s window.
“Nervous flyer?” I ask, hoping that whatever’s just passed between us doesn’t make this the longest silence-filled flight ever, when the only thing I want is to get to know her during our six-hour journey from Toronto to the Yukon. The label had arranged for the bands to fly—thankfully—to the venue, while the roadies and crew drove the busses and trucks carrying all of the equipment a few days in advance. Their job once they arrived would be to set up and ensure everything was good to go for the tour’s kick off in Whitehorse on Thursday night.
“No, I’m not usually too bad in airplanes. But I haven’t flown much, though, so maybe I am a little…” She shrugs her shoulders, which are covered by an oversized black “Yoda is My Homie” hoodie that makes me chuckle. It seems so her, although it hides the rockin’ body I know lies beneath. Looking back my way, she asks, “How about you?”
I take pride in the small victory of being able to recover from my fuck-up. “Nah, I’m an old pro by now, so if you get scared, feel free to use me as a shield or whatever.” I smile playfully hoping she sees the humour and doesn’t recoil from my offer for her to touch me. Frankly, I’m a tool sometimes, but I can’t help it when I’m around her.
“Thank you. I’ll be fine.”
“How come you’re not sitting with your girls?”
“Right? You’d think we’d be sticking together. It seems the kick-off party kicked off not only the tour and our budding friendship, but also…” Ali says, trailing off and jutting her chin to the front of the plane and then back over her shoulder. Sitting up a bit, I shake my head, seeing Paisley sitting and giggling up front with Tristan—the lead singer of Ullapool—while Roxie sits in the middle with Zack, talking animatedly. And there’s Siobhán, tucked in with Fife, Victoria, and Liam from the band Solace at the back near the restroom, looking at the schedules from what I can tell.
“Guess I lucked out,” I say, as the plane begins to taxi and Ali bursts out in an awkward yet sweet-as-fuck giggle.
Once in the air, a good two hours after talking about music, my family, and her brother, I must have dozed off. I wake to Ali struggling with and cursing at the carry-on bag resting at her feet. “Dammit!” She huffs and puffs before stuffing the red bag back under the front seat and coming up empty-handed, blowing her bangs out of her face.
“Lose something?” I ask, unable to refrain from laughing. She looks cute frustrated, pieces of her dark hair framing her face from the battle.
“Yes. No. I’m not sure. I can’t find my earbuds. I wanted to watch a movie. I’m sorry I woke you,” Ali says, pointing to the screen in front of her. “I noticed they have Stepbrothers. That movie is the best. Figured I’d kill some time.”
“Don’t be sorry. I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”
“I’m trying really hard not to take offence, although I’m pretty boring, I know,” Ali says, and for some reason I sense she believes a part of that to be true despite it being impossible, she’s nothing close to boring. I, for one, find her fascinating. She’s a little tight-lipped when talking about herself, but we’ll get there.
“Hey,” I say, sweeping her long bangs off her face, and I feel like I’ve just won the war, when she doesn’t pull back. For a second, it even looks as though she wants to lean further into my touch, but decides against it. It’s there, at least…I see it. I affect her, too. Taking my hand back, I reach down into my own bag, and pull out a pair of earbuds.
“I got what you want,” I say, hoping like hell she infers I might actually mean more than the buds.
“Yay. Thank you.” She reaches out to take them from my hand, her fingers sending a jolt of awareness from the contact of her skin on mine. I snatch them away before she can grab them.
“But you have to share. I’ve never seen it.”
“What?” I think she’s going to refuse my offer when I hand her one earbud, but she takes it, surprising me. “How the hell haven’t you seen this? It’s literally the funniest movie I have ever seen.”
“I miss out on a lot of things, I guess. The band, touring, all that stuff.”
“Well, we’re going to fix this right here and right now,” she says, leaning towards the back of the seat and tapping on the screen until the movie’s cover image pops up. She selects the title with Will Farrell and some other guy on it. “I’m so excited to watch this with you.”
Fuck, me too. I keep that thought to myself, though, as the opening credits begin and Alina Cassidy moves a little closer to me. Our shoulders touch, and she doesn’t seem to mind, all because the small cord connecting our earphones dictates it to be so. And right here in this moment, I’m so damn grateful to a stupid pair of earbuds for helping me accomplish something which was no small feat.
I learned an important lesson where Ali is concerned today.
Going forward, the choice is clear, I think, as she laughs beside me, her face lighting up. I’ll always take the risk because the reward—even if it’s just a little one—is worth it, in spades.