Cliché with a player

Chapter 29 - Airplane virginity

It's 10 a.m. and we are waiting for our flight back home in the packed airport. For our last day we went skiing, and I shouldn't have been surprised that Matt looks extremely hot with ruffled hair and cheeks red from the cold. So far, that's my favourite Hot Matt.

People slowly start gathering at the entrance. Just as Dan and I want to stand up, Nessa pulls on my arm to stop me.

"Wait a few minutes for people to get in."

"That way we won't have to wait in the line," Matt finishes her sentence.

Dan nods and we sit back down.

After about twenty five minutes we are in our seats, scattered across the airplane. I'm sitting next to some random Russian guy, Nessa and Matt are sitting a couple of rows behind us, Andrew got the sit between our moms and Dan got lucky with a family with four children, sitting next to, behind and in front of him.

After the Russian guy told me pretty much every memory he possesses about the second world war — he is and older gentleman — I finally got a break to slip to the bathroom.

I just want to relieve myself when someone knocks on the plastic door.

"Occupied!" I yell. But the person doesn't stop so I stand up, ready to tell them off, and then Matt slips in with a wicked smile on his face.

"Quick, before someone sees me!"

"Matt!" I exclaim.

"Shhhhh," he hushes me, "this walls are not so thick."

"What in the right mind are you doing?!" My whisper is not quite that, more like a mixture of something between quiet and upset louder talking.

"You want to join the mile high club?"

I can feel the cold of the floor with my jaw. No, I don't want to join the high mile club, what is he thinking?

"Are you insane?"

"No." His face is so serious it's like he just proposed we have lunch when we land.

"Matt, I'm not going to have sex with you on the plane."

"It doesn't count in the air."

"It does if I'm a virgin."

That shuts him up. He clenches his jaw and scratches the back of his neck. "I'm sorry."

I can't help but smile at his sincerity — he is so flustered! His cheeks are burning bright red and he is nervously fidgeting with his hands.

"Why don't we step out of the toilet and then continue the conversation about something else."

Matt nods and presses his ear to the door.

"Just open it."

I reach out for the handle but his hand grabs my wrist and he signals for me to be quiet.

"I just heard the stewardess outside."

"For god's sakes, Matt, just say I was sick and you helped me."

I push the door open and it crashes into a service trolley. The stewardess quickly apologises and is so set on it that she doesn't even register Matt slipping out behind me.

"Back to the Russian guy," I mutter as we walk towards our seats.

"Is he bothering you?" His voice has a slight protective undertone.

"No," I hurry to explain, "he's very nice and knows a lot of interesting stories. I would just rather sit with you, that's all."

"We can ask him if he wants to change seats."

"No need. He's so old it would probably just be trouble for him."

He's walking in front of me, sulking visibly, and I pull on his arm to face him. "It's a short flight." I kiss him on the cheek and get in my seat. He suddenly leans in and returns the favour on my lips, before going to his row.

"That boy is head over heels for you," smiles the Russian guy. I sure hope so.

~~~

Drive back home is a quiet one. There is no music, no one is singing, talking or laughing, and that's mostly because almost everyone is asleep right now. Only Mom, Mrs. Moore and me are awake.

I wonder what's going to happen now that Mom has been released from the hospital and we have nowhere to go. Weirdly, I haven't thought about it before.

"Mom?" I ask cautiously and quietly not wanting to wake anybody up. "Where are we going to go now?"

At least now Matt and I were sited in the front row of the car so I don't have to yell from the back and we can have this conversation more privately. As much as you can have a private conversation with someone in a packed mini van.

"Where are we going to go after we come back home?"

Mom looks around the car and shakes her head. "This is nor the time or the place. We'll talk later." She gently squeezes my hand and smiles.

Mrs. Moore's worried gaze is a little infuriating, to be honest, but I know she means well.

Slowly I lean back onto my chair. Matt mutters something in his sleep while his fingers intertwine with mine — only partly, just the fingertips. My eyes roam his face, from his closed eyes to the freckle on his cheek, sharp jawline and beautiful lips. My fingers brush back a strand of his hair. He smiles.

My head rests on his shoulder as I catch scornful look Mom is giving me in the rear view mirror.