Please don't wake up.
I looked at the guy in the seat beside me (who I'd mentally named Mr.Nothing because those were the words on his stupid shirt) and was kind of impressed by his ability to remain asleep. We'd just landed, and in spite of the flight attendant's smattering of announcements and the random people who were now standing beside us in the aisle, he remained unconscious.
Thank God.
He was a cynical, know-it-all smart-ass who seemed to enjoy pushing my buttons, even though we'd been strangers mere hours before. He'd ruined my first-ever solo flight with his incessant assholery, so as far as I was concerned, the less time I had to listen to him before finally getting off the plane, the better.
Although, as I watched him sleep, it occurred to me that he was way more attractive than I'd originally thought. He was my age-we were both freshmen-so I should've noticed, but his personality had somehow distracted me from the length of his eyelashes, the thickness of his darkhair, the prominence of his Adam's apple, and the way he had the tiniest little dimple in his chin.
He was, objectively speaking, a very cute guy.
"You checking me out, Glasses?"
Gah!
His eyes remained closed as he said, "Swear to God I can hear you holding your breath. Relax and exhale, kid; it's okay to creep on me."
"As if," I growled, irritated that I'd gotten busted, because the last thing on earth I wanted to do was stroke his ego. "I just thought you mightbe dead."
"Worried?"
"Hopeful."
His eyes opened then, squinting around a smirk as he turned his headin my direction. "Little Miss Uptight, letting loose with the death wishes.Sometimes you think you know a person…"
"We don't know each other." I clutched my bag and wished the peoplein the rows in front of us would get their bags and exit faster.
"Yes, we do." He unbuckled his seat belt and lifted the armrest between us, looking utterly... entertained as he gave me a twinkly eyed half-smile and said, "I know your drink order—half diet, half regular—the book you're reading—Addicted to You—the album you've listened to on repeat for the entire flight— Nicole—and the fact that you roll your eyes every single time I speak."
I rolled my eyes in spite of myself, which made his grin slide even higher.
"Come on now, Glasses, don't be that way," he teased. "After sharing such a momentous flight together, we should be exchanging numbers, not eye rolls."
"You have got to be kidding," I muttered, and then I might have snorted.
His eyebrows knitted together and his nose wrinkled, like he was nauseated by the notion that he might be interested in me.
"Of course I'm kidding. The last thing I need in my life is someone new to hate me. I'll stick with my existing friends and family for that, thank you."
I looked at his serious brown eyes, and even though I knew he was awful, something in his words felt honest. Like he really thought the people in his life hated him. Maybe it was the crinkle between his dark eyebrowsor the way he visibly swallowed that tricked me—I'm not sure. All I know is that I was an absolute moron for attempting to reassure him with
"I'm sure no one hates you."
Because as soon as I said it, he laughed. It was our turn to stand and get our bags from the overhead compartment, but he took a quick second to grin like I was a foolish child and tousle my hair with his big hand before stepping into the aisle.
He tousled. My. Hair.
The kind of tousle an older brother reserves for his annoying little sister.
I ducked out of his reach, nearly braining myself on the overhead compartment, and when I stepped out of our row to retrieve my carry-on, he was already grabbing it.
"Stealing my bag?" I asked (huffed, really, because I was so freaking annoyed), pushing my over-humidified curls out of my face as I straightened to my full height.
"Being helpful, actually." He lifted the bag down and turned his body sideways so I could get past him and be next in line to exit the plane.
"I didn't think you did things like that," I said as I took the bag from his hands.
"Worried about your karma all of a sudden?"
His mouth opened like he was going to say something, but then he just pursed his lips and gave me a shrug and an eyebrow raise. "Let's go with that."
I set down my bag, extended the handle, and said, "Well, I guess this is goodbye. Have a nice life."
I started walking with my rolling bag, glad to finally be leaving theplane. Even though I was dreading what awaited me in godforsaken Nebraska, at least I'd be free of this close-proximity-to-a-jackass nightmare.
But as I muttered thanks to the flight attendant and stepped into the Jetway, I heard his deep voice from behind me.
"Glasses."
I didn't stop, just looked over my shoulder as I walked. "Yeah?"
His dark eyes were unreadable, his mouth absent of its smirk as he walked with his hands in his pockets. "Thanks."
That made me almost trip, because he didn't look like he was messing with me.
"For what?"
He just shrugged again and said, "For trying."
And then he walked around me, passing me, those long legs taking him down the rest of the Jetway and into the terminal. I watched as he disappeared into the crowds of the chaotic airport, and I realized I'd never see Mr. Nothing again.