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"When I saw you I fell in love, and you smiled because you knew." -William Shakespeare
I press my face against the glass window looking out at the tarmac wishing I could change my mind about flying out to Florida.
I've been alive for 19 years and have made it this far without stepping foot onto a plane and dying, why would I want to chance it now?
Mom and dad left earlier in the week and said it would be wasting days of our vacation to wait and drive, but I honestly don't care. What does it matter if we miss a few days of boogie boarding - at least I'll be alive to actually do it.
I feel someone take the seat next to me, their arm bumping mine, but I'm too focused on the man waving the orange flag to worry about who's sitting next to me.
I think I'm going to be sick.
I should just get off - tell them something's wrong with the left phalange - and miss out on this year's vacation.
And anyway, what was wrong with a staycation?
Washington has a plethora of things to do - fishing, swimming, camping. There's no reason why we have to travel to sandy beaches, blue oceans, and swamps. I don't like the idea of swimming with sharks and alligators anyhow.
The flight attendant gets on the loudspeaker preparing us for departure. I'm already buckled in - I buckled that baby as soon as I sat down - but I still don't feel safe.
I can feel myself starting to hyperventilate - my chest is heaving, and I feel perspiration wetting my upper lip and the back of my neck.
God, why didn't I just put up more of a fight?
The plane starts to slowly move, and my heart is lodged in my throat. I squeeze the armrest in a death grip and close my eyes just hoping and praying to make it into the air safely.
"You're not breathing." I let out a gust of air and open my eyes to find white clouds and blue sky. "I thought you were gonna fucking pass out there for a minute."
I don't recognize the deep sound, but why would I?
Turning my head, I come face to face with a scruffy face and emerald green eyes. He's watching me - a smile on his handsome face - like he's waiting for a chance to perform CPR on me, and I shake my head and say, "I'm fine."
His smile turns into a grin, and he pulls the hat off his head, revealing messy brown locks. "You afraid of flyin' or what?"
I straighten in my seat and try to loosen the grip I have on the armrest, but my fingers don't want to let go. "I've never flown before."
"No shit?" He laughs, the deep sound giving me goosebumps down my arms.
I shake my head, kind of shocked this guy has no problem talking to a stranger. "A car can get you anywhere a plane can."
"That's not necessarily true. You can't cross the ocean in a car," he points out, his perfect white teeth blinding me.
"Since I don't plan on leaving the country, then I don't need to cross any oceans."
He nods, thoughtfully conceding my point. "Where you headed?"
"Florida - a family vacation. You?"
"Back home to Arizona. I came up to visit my mom."
"Yeah, I noticed there's a layover in Phoenix. I'm not sure how I feel about two take offs and two landings."
"You'll be good," he says, bumping me with his shoulder. "Don't sweat it."
I smile, and he grins.
I turn away and pull out my laptop and earbuds, not wanting to be rude but not knowing if I can have an entire conversation with this cute guy the entire flight. He seems nice - older than me - but I'm not much of a conversationalist.
I busy myself with turning the old thing on and waiting for it to boot up. My stomach growls embarrassingly loud because I purposely didn't eat breakfast - didn't want to puke all over myself on the plane.
"Want me to ask the flight attendant for some peanuts?"
Blushing - because of course he heard that - I shake my head. "I'm fine."
"Do you say that a lot?"
"I'm fine. You've said it twice, and you were lyin' the first time. If you're hungry there's no shame in admitting it."
Who is this guy?
"Okay, I am hungry, but I'm allergic to peanuts." He eyes me like he doesn't believe me, but it's most definitely true. "If you don't believe me, grab me a bag, see what happens." I shrug, making him chuckle.
"No, I believe you. I'm not trying to kill you or anything."
"I have my own snacks." I hold up an oversized bag of goldfish, and he nods his approval.
"Good choice, but these are better." He holds up a bag of the same thing except his are the pretzel ones - the better ones.
"You're right. Those are better. You must have grabbed the last bag. They were sold out when I went looking for them."
"If you share, I'll share." He smiles again, and I can't help smiling back. Maybe this whole fearing for my death in the skies thing isn't so bad after all.
"Okay." I offer him an earbud after discreetly wiping it down. "I'm watching Dirty Dancing if you're down."
"Will there be dirty dancing?" He asks, taking the earbud from my fingers, the pads of his own fingers a little rough. "I could be down with that."
I laugh and nod my head. "It's a little raunchy, but Patrick Swayze is a God."
"Wait," he says, touching my hand - the one that's about to push play. "I can't watch a dirty movie with you..."
"It's not really a dirty movie…"
"...without knowin' your name first. I'm not that kind of guy." He smirks, and my cheeks hurt from how hard I'm smiling.
"It's Bella," I say, feeling the heavy weight of his hand on top of mine.
"I'm Edward." He releases my hand and sits back, sticking the earbud into his left ear. "Now we can watch some dirty dancing."
"Okay," I say, sticking the other earbud in my right ear and pushing play. "Be ready to have your mind blown."
He chuckles, and I cringe a little because that was totally lame. In my defense, this movie is one of the greatest of all times, so it makes me a little crazy.
Edward laughs at I carried a watermelon - such a cringeworthy classic line - and leans his elbow on our shared armrest. "So, let me guess. Watermelon lady ends up with the God?"
"Shhh," I hiss, jokingly. "No questions."
"Sorry," he says, shifting in his seat, his arm pushing against mine as he crowds me to see the small screen. "You're not much for talkin' and watchin' are you?"
I pause the movie and look at him like he's crazy. "If I'm talking during the movie then I'm not doing any watching, and to experience all of Patrick Swayze's God like scenes, you have to watch not talk."
He needs to stop smiling at me...is that a dimple?
"Well, seeing as how I'm not really a Patrick Swayze fan, I like to talk and watch. Let's make a deal. Since you've seen this movie what...definitely more than once I take it, humor me and let me ask questions that you're probably dyin' to answer anyway. Alright?"
He makes a good point here. "Okay, I can do that."
"Then, you can watch my favorite movie, and I'll warn you now, there's nothin' dirty about it unless dirts dirty which it is so okay, it's a little dirty."
God, he's cute.
"Shhh…" he says, quietly - grinning the entire time - then whispers, "...no questions." I roll my eyes, and he pushes play. "So, she carried a watermelon, and he teaches her how to dance? Dirty dance?"
The way he says dirty - stop. "In a nutshell, yes, but there's so much more to it. You'll see."
He nods and watches as Baby awkwardly shakes her hips, his eyes shifting to me every once in a while, his lips twitching, and damn, he's hot.
By the time the movie's almost over, I'm quoting all the best lines, and Edward's so into that epic last dance, nothing can break his concentration.
Without any prompting from me, he rewinds to Nobody puts Baby in a corner and watches the entire epic dance again.
I think he's my soulmate.
He shrugs. "Not bad. Not bad at all."
"Oh please!" I say, turning in my seat to see him and all his lies better. "Admit it - that's the best movie you've ever watched!"
He crosses his arms over his chest and smiles at me. "Top 2. I'll give you that - kind of a chick flick but it'll do. Now, are you ready to have your mind blown?"
I nod, getting a little thrill from the conversation, and he leans forward to dig in his bag. He sits back and holds up Tombstone. Should I tell him I've seen it - that when I was 10, I watched it every single night for an entire year?
"What? Why're you smiling?"
"I'm not," I say, straightening in my seat and hand the laptop over. "Let's watch it."
He puts it in and sits back - the laptop in his lap now- and reaches into my lap for his earbud. "Greatest movie of all time," he says, hitting play.
"Alright lunger, let's do it," I tease, trying not to smile.
He slowly turns his head my way, his dimple dimpled. "Are you shitting me?"
"What?" I feign innocence, trying so hard not to laugh.
"You've seen it, haven't you?"
I nod, and he grins. "You're no fun." He goes to stop it, but I grab his wrist.
"No. I love this movie. I want to watch it."
He looks over at me, his eyes scanning my face for far too long - long enough to make me feel butterflies in my stomach. "Can we talk and watch?" He asks. "That's the only way I'll let you watch it."
"It's my laptop," I argue.
"It's my movie."
"You're such a baby," I tease but nod my head. "Yes, let's talk and watch."
"Are you going to let me go?"
He laughs and shakes his arm. "You're holding my wrist. I mean, I'll let you hold me, but I'll need to hit play first."
He pushes play, and he talks the entire time, giving me a play by play like I've never seen it before, but it's so damn cute I listen to the deep sound of his voice until it lulls me to sleep.
I think my head ends up on his shoulder - I'm sure of it, but I keep my eyes closed and don't move a muscle.
The last thing I hear is I'm your huckleberry.
I know I have stories that need to be finished, but this one came into my head and I can't help myself. Some parts of this story I've lived and some parts I just pulled out of my ass, but I'll be posting one chapter a week - every Wednesday. I vow not to get behind.