Pretenders (Firsts and Forever 3)

Thankfully, I passed out about a minute later.

I almost slept through the entire flight. Almost.

I woke up, looked out the window, and saw that the ocean was way too close to the plane. That made me shriek, then duck and cover with my head on my lap and my arms crossed over my head. Wes explained we were coming in for a landing, then tried to calm me down while I hyperventilated and freaked out.

Fortunately, we were on the ground just a few minutes later, and as we taxied down the runway I murmured, “Thank you baby Jesus. I’m so glad that’s over and we’re here.”

“Almost.” When I glanced at him, Wes explained, “This is actually our layover. There were no direct flights to Bora Bora.”

“So, where are we?”

“Papeete.”

“That’s not a real place.”

“I assure you it is.”

It turned out he was right. We had an hour to kill at the Papeete airport, so Wes asked, “Are you hungry?” When I shook my head, he asked, “When was the last time you ate?”

I had to think about that. Finally, I said, “I had a burrito before work yesterday.”

“So, you haven’t eaten in more than twenty-four hours.” His dark brows knit above his glasses.

“Yeah, but I’m not eating now, either. Not if we have to get on another plane soon. I’ll throw up, guaranteed.”

Wesley sighed and checked his watch. “At least this next flight is short, and it won’t take long to reach our hotel once we land, which has three restaurants. I’ll buy you dinner as soon as we get there.”

“Hotel? I thought your family rented some sort of villa.”

“They did. But I knew we’d be tired after traveling all day, so I told my parents we’d be joining them in the morning.”

“Good call.” That was actually a massive relief. I definitely needed a chance to pull myself together before it was showtime.

When it was time to board the next flight, Wes talked me out of taking a whole fake Xanax. Instead, he cut one in half for me with the metal clip on his pen. I’d only been prescribed a total of four pills, so it seemed smart to ration them out like that—until I saw how old and puny the next plane was.

“What the hell? No. Just no,” I said, as I took a step backwards. We were out on the tarmac, and ahead of us was a funky-looking plane with propellers, which held maybe ten people. “That thing is ancient. Did they have to pry Amelia Earhart’s remains out of the cockpit before they brought it here? I’d have to have a death wish to voluntarily go up in that thing. Also, I’m sorry I said that about Amelia. She was actually super awesome, and I bet her plane was way nicer than this one.”

Wes glanced at the plane, then me, then the plane again. “It’s not that bad,” he said. “Plus, it’s a really short flight. Only fifty minutes! It’ll be over before you know it.”

“Exactly! It’ll be over before I know it because it’ll immediately crash into the ocean.”

He somehow managed to coax me into boarding that geriatric rust bucket. I attributed it to a combination of his calm, soothing bedside manner, the half a fake Xanax which was making everything fuzzy around the edges, and the fact that I’d misheard him. I thought he’d said fifteen minutes, not fifty, and decided the plane might possibly be able to stay in the air that long.

Fortunately for all involved, I managed to get through the flight without a major meltdown. This was accomplished by a three-pronged approach of blasting music through my earbuds, curling into a ball on my seat, and putting on my hood and pulling the drawstring, so I couldn’t actually see out. It was a good thing I didn’t have to worry about what Wes thought of me, since the Kenny from South Park look was less than flattering.

Eventually, we landed in Bora Bora, retrieved our luggage, and took a cab to our hotel. That was when I found out Wes had booked us separate rooms. It probably shouldn’t have come as a surprise, but it did anyway. He tried to make it into a positive by saying, “I thought you’d like some privacy, and some uninterrupted rest after traveling all day.” Whatever.

After our bags were whisked away to our rooms, Wes made good on his promise of taking me straight to dinner. The resort was elegant, tropical, and extremely high-end. I felt out of place in my sweats, especially once we were seated in the restaurant. It was billed as the most casual of the on-site dining options, but it was still totally posh.

The menu was in French, so I agreed to let Wes order for both of us. This made him happier than it should have. Our waiter spoke both French and English, but Wes spoke to him in fluent French, just because he could, apparently.