Him (3 page)

As soon as he is gone, Will looks at me. "Holy shit, I thought he was going to kick my ass there for a second."

I cover my mouth to stop from laughing
. "How's your head?"

He raises one brow at me, rubbing his head
. "You think that's funny?"

He reaches over to move the bowl of popcorn to the coffee table before grabbing my feet and tickling them. I'm kicking wildly trying to get away
, but he has a vice grip on my ankles with one hand. Finally, I give up trying to get away. Instead, I manage to roll up onto him so I can tickle him back. He releases my ankles when my fingertips push into his armpits. He tries to get away, but I'm pretty much in his lap at this point. Will tenses his arms close to his sides so I can't even wiggle my fingers but I can't remove them either.

I tilt my head at him
. "Relax, Will."

"Nope, you'
re untrustworthy."

I grin
. He knows me too well. The second I would have been able to move my fingers I was going to tickle him some more but, out of nowhere, he stands and plops me on my end of the couch, quickly sitting back down and covering himself with the throw blanket. What the hell? I give him a look. He shrugs, looking straight ahead.

"Are you cold?"

He doesn’t say anything, just nods. I readjust my shorts in the hopes of eliminating any gaps. I can see him watching me out of the corner of his eye.

"What?" I ask
. "You took my blanket."

Will shifts in his seat before he balls it up and tosses it at me, hitting me in the face.

"You suck."

He grins.

Chapter 3

Present

"Now boarding Zone
Five." The announcement sounds like it’s coming out of one of those fast food drive thru window speakers. I turn toward the sound and stand, reaching into my purse for my boarding pass. They had announced earlier that this was a full flight, so I had already volunteered to have my carry-on checked since I knew they would check it whether I wanted them to or not once I was boarding.

I am
heading home. This will be my first visit since after that night. I get in line to board the plane, that slow, awkward shuffle of passing everyone who is already seated. Pausing as the people in front of me find their seats. All the while I chant a hopeful thought within my mind. Please let me sit next to someone normal. Please let me sit next to someone normal.

I am
flying home to Atlanta, Georgia. Can you still call a place home if you haven’t lived or even visited there in years? I think to myself. Maybe I should call it the place I grew up, but that doesn’t feel right either. This trip is a big deal for me. I am something of a workaholic, and I'm taking a whole week off. Work keeps me busy. I like being busy. As long as I am, I don’t think about, well, stuff. If I was working right now, I might be flying to Seattle or Chicago or, hell, anywhere else. I relax when I finally make it to my seat.

I'm in
21D, an aisle seat. At least that means I won’t be stuck in the middle, fighting for elbow space on both sides. There is an older woman already sitting in 21E, her elbows firmly on both armrests. Great. I sink into my seat, pulling my ereader and a stick of gum out of my purse before stowing it under the seat in front of me. I might be able to read for ten minutes before they announce we have to turn off all electronics. The book I am reading is the latest in a series that I love. It was released the day before, and I am inhaling it.

I am
at a really good part when the turn off all electronics light comes on. Groaning, I turn it off and pop my gum into my mouth. I travel frequently for work but still am not any less nervous about flying. I zone out as the attendant goes over the safety procedures. I have heard this before. We are moving, preparing for takeoff. I look around the cabin and cannot help but stare at the man sitting in 20C. I can't see his face, only the back of his head. He has thick dark brown hair, and there is a subtle wave to it that the cabin lights catch. It is run-your-fingers-through-it worthy hair. I don’t remember seeing him sitting there when I boarded.

My gaze lingers o
n his broad shoulder. I can only see the right one. I have to assume the left one matches. He is reading a book, which I find hot. I am enthralled as I watch his fingers lazily turn the next page. His fingers are long, strong, I can see a freckle on the knuckle of his right thumb. Why does that seem familiar? All at once I remember, all those years ago, sixth grade English. It had been the first day of middle school, the blending of four local elementary schools into one cluster of a tween hell. My third period English class had been near my previous class. I was the first person in the room, besides the teacher, and randomly sat in the desk closest to the bookshelves. There was a print book out on each desk, and I was reading it as all my other classmates hurried in before the bell. Just as it rang, he walked in the door.

He was
tall, his backpack lazily slung over one shoulder. He had thick brown hair and striking blue eyes, and he was walking straight towards me. I looked around. It felt as though time had slowed, and it was clear that he was having a similar effect on all of the girls in our class. Why was he walking towards me? And then I saw it. The last empty desk in our class was right next to mine. As he sat, he nodded in my direction. I can't be sure, but I think I may have been shaking. His backpack was now in his lap as he pulled out a composition notebook. Laying it on his desk, I stared at his hands and noticed the freckle on his right hand for the first time.

The plane jolts forward as we take flight
. I am so distracted by the man sitting in front of me, I hardly notice. It just feels so impossible to think that maybe it could be… No, that would be crazy. The possibility makes my mind race. I had left so quickly. There had been so much unsaid. As much as it hurts, there will always be a part of me that wonders where I would be right now if things had turned out differently. Would I be the workaholic I am today? Would I not be single but instead with him? I thought we were so happy. I shake the memory away, still riveted by the person sitting in front of me. He just can’t be. I mean, what are the odds? As if he can feel my gaze, he slowly turns his head back to look at me. My mouth falls open. It’s him. The goddamned reason I have not been home in seven years just happens to be on my plane. The last time I had seen him was that night. His eyes meet mine, and I watch the recognition pass over them.

"No way
. Sarah? Sarah Miller?"

He looks
the exactly same but older, bigger. Oh god.

My heart stops
. I nod, smiling at him as I lose all ability to speak. You can do this, I think to myself. You can act normal for the next two hours and not like your heart is breaking all over again just looking at him. My tongue feels dry, my gum now a flavorless mass of cement in my mouth. He unbuckles his belt and stands, there? What is he doing? He seems larger than life. Seriously, how had I missed him when I was boarding? He leans over the woman sitting in the aisle seat next to mine.

"Excuse me
, ma'am. The young lady next to you happens to be an old friend of mine. Any chance I could I trade seats with you?"

He still has
that lazy southern drawl that makes my toes curl. She is older, but he has not lost his effect on women over the years. Her face takes on a dreamy look as she unbuckles her belt and rises. The gentleman next to her in 21B looks at us, then offers to trade with me so we can have seats right next to each other instead of being separated by the aisle. I nod in agreement, already reaching for my purse, still unable to form words. Suddenly, I am in the middle seat I usually dread, but this time, this time I can hardly breathe. The kid sitting in 21A is already asleep, his head leaning up against the window. My purse is still in my lap as he sits. I have to lean towards him as I place it under the seat in front of me.

I can
just smell his cologne. To say he smells good is an understatement. I have a physical reaction to his nearness. My stomach flips. Yes, it could be because I am on an airplane, but I know it is him. As I straighten, I blush, some of my hair escapes my clip and is in my eyes. I raise my hand to brush it aside, but his fingers beat mine, and he delicately tucks the errant strand behind my ear. His fingertip just grazes my earlobe. When he lowers his hand, it burns in the absence of his touch. He positions his arm on the aisle rest and rests his head on it, tilting it toward me. I can handle this. This is just a short flight, and then I can go back to pretending Will Price doesn’t exist. Who am I kidding? It's been seven years, and I still read his horoscope every day. I can't stop myself from feeling relief when I see he isn’t wearing a wedding ring.

He clears his throat and grins
at me. "So how have you been, Sarah?"

His smile is
infectious.

I gulp
. "I've been good. Busy, but good. What about you?"

"Yeah,
I'm good. I'm teaching now."

"No way
." I could not imagine concentrating with a teacher as hot as him. "What do you teach?"

"
Intro to Art." He pauses. "Guess where?" His grin seems impish now, like he is teasing me.

I can
play this game. "Back home?"

He nods
.

"
Let me guess. Renfroe or Decatur?"

"
Renfroe. No high school kids for me. Just good ole Carl G. Renfroe Middle School."

The place where it all started.
How can someone look so different but exactly the same? Is that even possible? I catch myself staring at his mouth, at the lips that at one time owned me. My heartbreak over losing him had been twofold, since before he even knew I loved him, he had been my best friend. It feels so good to see him, even though I feel the pain of the loss from him in my life all over again. I'm sure what I feel more in that moment. I can’t help it. I laugh, covering my mouth with my hand.

His expression seems
far away for a moment. "You always had the prettiest laugh, Sarah."

Clear as day
, I suddenly remember the time he made me snort root beer through my nose. I roll my eyes at him. Prettiest laugh? Yeah right.

"What?"
He looks confused.

"Seriously?
You don’t remember?"

He
shakes his head.

"God
." I cover my face. Why am I reminding him of this? I look up. "Does our field trip to the Georgia Aquarium ring any bells?"

His mouth forms
an O right before he throws back his head and laughs, soliciting stares from the passengers around us. His eyes are dancing as he struggles to stifle his laughter, chuckling instead. "You snorted and root beer came out your nose."

"You gave me crap for that forever
. It was all your fault too."

"
How was it my fault? I can't even remember what made you laugh."

"Really?"
He shrugs. I make a face. “It was because of the way Mrs. Allen was eating her chips."

He interrupts
me, grabbing my hand and squeezing it. "She looked like a chipmunk!"

I laugh
, nodding. "I had just taken the biggest gulp when you had to point that out to me."

"Her cheeks
. I can't believe I forgot about that." He notices then that my hand is in his and slowly releases it, folding his arms across his chest. "So what kind of work do you do?"

"It's super boring
." I cringe, looking up at him before going on. "My company manages retirement plans for small businesses. I get them all set up. Once a business has contracted with us, I fly out to handle all of the initial paperwork."

"Where are you based?"

"Denver."

He chews
on the side of his bottom lip. "So what brings you out this way? Work?"

"Nope
. Brian is getting married."

"No shit."

I can hardly believe it myself. My big brother had been somewhat of a legend. It was a bit of a shock he was settling down. I have not even met his fiancé, Christine.

"
I know, right. I'm looking forward to meeting his fiancé."

"You
haven’t met her yet?" He looks surprised.

"My work schedule sucks
," I say lamely, unable to admit I avoid going home on the chance that I might run into him. The universe has a funny way of punishing me for that by putting us on the same flight. "My mom seems to be taking it well. She can't stop raving about Christine. That’s his fiancé's name," I continue.

"Not going crazy over the idea of
losing her baby boy."

I nod
. "I've heard moms can get a bit crazy over that idea."

He chewed his lip.
Growing up, his mother had issues. She went back and forth between being over protective to not even noticing Will, but she had had a good reason for it.