“You can choose right here and now to stay in the present and let go of the fear or you can choose to engage it. Nothing can hurt you on that plane, unless you let it.”
I put my fork down. “How did you get to be so wise? Seriously, you’re like an 80-year-old man stuck in a hot, tatted body.”
What the hell did I just say to him?
His gaze was penetrating, and the amused smile on his face showed me that my admission hadn’t escaped him.
“So…you think I’m hot?” His smile was devious now. He was going to torture me.
I didn’t know what to say, so decided on an answer that made no sense. “Well, you know what I mean.”
“Are there other meanings for hot?”
“Jake—”
“You’re turning red…stop. I’m messing with you. You make it so easy sometimes.” He laughed and startled me when he reached across the table and swiped his thumb gently across my lip then licked his finger. Chills radiated down my spine as he did it.
“You had chocolate all over your mouth. It was cute for a while, but I didn’t want you leaving here like that.”
“Oh…thanks,” I said looking away, still embarrassed about what I had just admitted. I was also desperately wishing he had licked the chocolate directly off of my mouth, so I could taste him.
It was now completely dark out, and I knew we had to leave in a few minutes. I wished we could just stay here in this booth longer. Somehow we were able to drown out the whole world for the past few hours. He had me crazy in lust and had a way of making me want to tell him everything, like my deepest fears and desires. Sometimes, I made an ass out of myself in the process because if I was being honest…he was my deepest desire.
“Ready to go? We should get to the airport,” he said as he took out his wallet and paid the bill.
“As ready as I’ll ever be.”
As we exited Bernie’s, he put his hand on the small of my back again, and my breathing quickened immediately. Anytime he so much as brushed up against me, let alone touched me directly, my body responded, and lately, the effects have been cumulative; I was slowly wearing thin.
***
On the flight home, before takeoff, he grabbed my hand without my asking him to.
I think he could see my nerves starting to work their way up to panic mode.
This plane was bigger and nearly empty, and we had a large middle row all to ourselves. I was scared but didn’t feel as out of control as I was at the start of the first flight. It was nighttime, and somehow that was more calming than the sun pouring in.
“You think you can make it through takeoff without a tickle?”
I nodded. “Just don’t let go of my hand, okay?”
“I promise. I won’t.”
And he didn’t, for the entire flight. Even when we had reached cruising altitude, even when the flight attendant came by with drinks, even when he would reach into his backpack for something, he kept my hand in his. It was a small gesture, but it was the first time I truly felt that he was holding it because he wanted to, not because I needed him to.
It was dark inside the plane aside from some small interior lights. Sitting close to him in the dim lighting of our otherwise empty row felt intimate.
Jake came up with a game to get my mind off a patch of turbulence. “We are going to take turns shouting out a word, and then we both have to say the first thing that comes to mind.
I breathed out, still shaken from the constant bouncing of the plane. “Okay.”
“Ready?”
“Yeah,” I said.
“You first,” he said.
The first subject that came to my mind was “Chicago.”
Me: “Bernies.”
Jake: “Home.”
“Math,” Jake said.
Me: “Torture.”
Jake: “Fun.”
“Mrs. Ballsworthy,” I said laughing.
We looked at each other, amused and said in unison, “Fuck.”
He threw out his own name. “Jake.”
Me: “Bananas.”
Jake: “Hot.”
I smacked him.
I threw out, “Nina.”
Me: “Spectacular.”
Jake: (Silent pause) “Let me think about that and get back to you.”
I whacked him playfully again.
We continued to play the back and forth game until the turbulence let up. He had succeeded in distracting me from it.
It had been a long day, and I decided to lay my head back and close my eyes, even though I was too nervous to actually nap. Jake was still holding my hand, and at one point, started rubbing his thumb softly back and forth across it. My eyes were still closed, but I was melting into the seat, quivering between my legs at the small but sensual gesture. I squeezed his hand in an attempt to communicate that I liked it when he did that. As he continued to brush across my hand with his thumb, I mimicked him and started rubbing my own thumb across his. Eventually, our two thumbs were moving in soft circular motions.