The airplane turbulence rumbles the queasiness in my stomach further. This flight to Korea feels like it’s never going to end.

Mia is fast asleep, her head lying on the pillow by the window, earbuds in her ears, an American flag blanket pulled up to her chin.

The seatbelt sign dings and I pick up my whiskey on the rocks, folding up the tray table. The entire plane is dark except for the glow of cell phones sprinkled throughout the rows of travelers. Dax is sprawled out over three seats in the middle. Beckett looks over, raising his water to my drink as he studies video footage of his competition in the upcoming competition. Always the preparer. Skylar’s head rests on his shoulder as she points to the iPad screen and murmurs something to him.

The chilled glass rests in the palm of my hand and my gaze once again lingers on Mia. I pull my phone from my sweatshirt, wondering how I explain what’s happened between us to Brandon. Although, when we were younger the jokes never bothered him about Mia’s crush on me. Like maybe he thought it’d be cool if I dated her. Our families were so close back then.

I felt Mia’s tension rise when we boarded the plane and came that much closer to facing her brother. Which means what Brandon thought four years ago, may not be what he thinks now.

She moans softly and nestles into the pillow more, her tongue licking her lips. I rack my brain for a reason. To tell Brandon exactly how this all came about. How Mia and I went from hating to...I don’t know what. Surrendering? What I do know is that I’ve been enjoying the hell out of her warm body next to mine at night. We’ve been training every day, but our energy’s never too drained to get in another workout in the bedroom.

The plane dips again, a little more abrupt this time and Mia’s eyes flutter. I admire her, the deep breath she inhales when she first wakes up, the way her eyes look around like she slept so deeply she may have forgotten where she was. Then her gaze lands on me and the corners of her lips tip up and as quick as a snap of a finger, I feel like I’m already standing on the center podium, leaning down to claim my gold medal.

“Hey.” Her voice is soft and lulling. She sits up, a slight tilt of her head, pulling the earbuds out of her ears. “What’s wrong?” Her gaze fixates on my drink for a second but returns back to my eyes.

“Nothing, just admiring how beautiful you are.”

Her smile widens and my heart swells. And yeah, I know what a lame ass that makes me sound like, but there’s no other way to describe this feeling.

“Hmm. You sound guilty or something.”

I chuckle and then look around, quietly leaning forward and placing a kiss on her lips.

She welcomes my advance and then licks the seam of my lips. My hand slides around the back of her neck, pulling her toward me and I pour all my admiration for her into the slow rhythm of our tongues sliding against one another.

“Mmm,” she coos as I close the kiss. “I love waking up to you.”

I wrap my arm around her and she lifts up the seat separator, curling her legs up into her and letting her head fall to my shoulder.

“Sleep,” I whisper.

She peers up at me, her fingers wisping along my five o’clock shadow. I see it, her acknowledgment of what it means that I’m awake on a plane at one in the morning with a whiskey in my hand. Like everything else in our past, we push it to the back burner because we know, like a timer on a bomb, its counting down on our happy bubble the closer we get to the Winter Classics. It won’t just be us—my parents will be there, her parents, the press, and most of all, her brother—all to remind us how insane we are to think there can be something lasting between us.

Her breathing evens out almost immediately, her hand stuffed into the pocket of my sweatshirt. The seatbelt light goes off a few minutes later and the flight attendant comes by and I hand her my whiskey. Wrapping my arm around her shoulders, I let her honey scent intoxicate me because I’m going to enjoy our happy bubble while we still have it.

---

“I’m going to grab myself some kimchi,” Dax says and rubs his stomach.

“You don’t even know what that is,” Demi quips and stomps on ahead.

“You should wait until after the competition,” Beckett offers his advice as him and Skylar walk ahead of everyone.

Mia’s hand is tucked in mine, and I think we’re both eager to get to the villages although if we’d gotten together earlier, I would’ve tried to set us up in a hotel instead. I’d sleep a whole lot better with Mia as my roommate rather than Dax.

“Hell no, we’re going out tonight.” Dax turns around, moving his feet and dancing in place. “We’re here, we made it, and we need to celebrate.”

Mia and I share a look and she rolls her eyes.

“I’m fairly sure eating spicy cabbage isn’t going to do wonders for your system,” I say.

Dax falls in line with us. “Whatever, the gas alone will make my opponents pass out.”

We all laugh, if only that were the case, every Winter Classics athlete would be heading for the kimchi.

“I’m sure they have it there, Dax,” Mia says. “We have to catch the train.”

I release my hand from Mia’s, pulling her close, my arm swung over her shoulders. “I think maybe you were made for me.”

She tiptoes up and kisses me on the cheek.

“You guys can be so boring sometimes,” Dax moans.

I smack his stomach and he fakes hurt.

“Maybe that’s why we’re the best,” Mia sing-songs.

I pick her up and swing her around. “Man, you really were made for me.” I press my lips to hers and before either one of us thinks better of it, our tongues are swirling and our bodies heading to the pull to be closer together.

“You two totally deserve what you’re about to get,” Dax’s sour voice is like background noise until I hear the clicks.

Snap.

Snap.

Snap.

I close the kiss, and Mia draws back, our lips only millimeters apart.

“Fuck,” I whisper, having forgotten momentarily that the fact press would be nearby waiting our arrival.

“I guess we’re coming out.” She bites her lip.

Prepared to face the press, I set Mia back on her feet and grab hold of her hand. We both turn to start walking again, but those contagious smiles we’ve had plastered on our faces the last two weeks disappear when we see what—scratch that, who—is waiting for us.

“Mia?” the deep male voice asks.

Her hand leaves mine, walking a few steps ahead, rising on her tiptoes and wrapping her arms around her brother’s neck. “Brandon!”

He holds her to him, but his eyes are focused on me over her shoulder, and from the looks of it, he just pulled out the pin of the grenade that’s going to shatter the happy bubble we found ourselves in.