You’ve been a flight attendant for the past five years and it’s the best job you’ve ever had. You couldn’t imagine doing anything else. You get to travel the world and get paid to do it! All you have to do is serve your passengers some food and drinks, easy enough.
This was your last flight of the day, a nonstop flight from Vancouver to Texas. You were on this route often and always loved it. When you had a few days off you would stay in Texas for a few days or in Vancouver if that was your last flight. They were two beautiful areas, each unique.
Today you had a pretty empty flight so it was going to be easy. Especially since you spotted a very attractive green-eyed man. When he was getting on the plane you made eye contact with the gentleman and he flashed you a smile that could have melted you into a puddle. He turned and took the front seat that was right next to your jump seat. How were you going to concentrate on this flight!? A very tall man sat in the seat next to him and as he sat down he elbowed his green-eyed friend and snickered.
Author’s Note: Okay, so I still hate writing transition chapters… but, this one is a necessary evil. Eh, well… at least the dialogue is cute. :p
This is a work of fiction. This story contains fictional
representations of real people. None of the events are true. This is
from an American standpoint, so some of the situations may not happen
the same way they might in Korea. I make no money from the writing of
this fictional work.
“I need to tell you something,” he says, unwillingly pulling his swollen
lips away from hers and earning a moan from her. His eyes are still
closed, but he can sense the quizzical look she is giving him from
underneath. After all, not every day your booty call interrupts a fiery
make-out session for chitchat. But ever since at the coffeehouse Bellamy
watched Clarke pretend to be a 19th century gentleman with a
flashing grin after she realized she had a foam moustache, he has been
bottling up the ache in his chest, and he is sure he will bloat and
float off like Marge Dursley if he keeps it in longer. “And you’re going
to freak out.”
“Don’t take this the wrong way, okay?” Emma sends him a nervous little side glance, fingers twisting together as their shoulders graze while he walks her to her door.
“What’s that, love?” He chuckles lightly.
She pauses in front of it, turning and bracing against the wood while she looks at him. The corners of her mouth tug up, helpless to the softness in his eyes that so clearly mirrors the softness on his face.
“I had a really good time tonight.”
His grin lights up the dim hallway and there’s a sweet little tug on her heart.
“Were you expecting not to?” he wonders. He inches just a little closer until the toes of their shoes — his boots, her stilettos — are touching.
“I don’t…” She sighs as she ponders the words to use, finds her body swaying involuntarily towards him. “I don’t know what I was expecting to be honest.”
Killian’s smile widens and he absentmindedly reaches up to hook her chin with his index finger, thumb brushing over the little dent there for a moment. “You laughed a lot,” he comments. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you laugh so much.”
She can feel the joy in his voice, knowing that he’d caused that, and it makes her stomach flip. She shrugs nonchalantly though, brushes it off like it’s not a big deal, but her own smile matches his (so much so that her cheeks actually ache from it). “I suppose you have your moments of being exceedingly funny.”
He slides in, leans in close until she can see the dark rim of blue just around his lighter blue irises, until his scent — spice and leather and Killian — imprints itself into her memory and makes her sigh again.