Shut Up and Kiss Me (Happy Endings 2)

That’s not why I wear the necklace, but I don’t dispel him of that notion. A plane isn’t the best place to talk about luck.

Or the first time we were in this city together.

That time a few years ago felt like the luckiest night ever. We hadn’t yet experienced the desperation that wanting something just out of reach can bring you.

Now, I feel desperate in too many ways.

And yeah, I’ve got my answer.

That’s why I’m a human espresso cup today. I want too many things.

“I hope we get lucky too,” I say, “with this chance we’re taking.”

A scratching sound blares through the speakers. There’s a pause, and I cock my head, waiting for more.

“Hello, ladies, gentlemen, boys and girls, and all creatures great and small. We’ve reached our cruising altitude, so let’s give a big Super Saver Airlines shout-out to Lance McGruber, my co-pilot. Today marks his first flight ever.”

Screw not being a nervous flier. I am entirely comprised of worry. I turn to Nolan. “What the . . .?”

His irises register curiosity right as the speaker crackles again.

“JK! JK!” says the voice over the speaker. “Lance can do this route with his eyes closed,” the man warbles. “In fact, he’s blindfolded right now.”

Nolan rolls his eyes. “It’s open mic night up front.”

“Evidently,” I say, the tension easing.

Maybe this is what I need. A good, old-fashioned distraction so my thoughts don’t stray to the past.

The present is all that matters.

“He’s been flying the Super Saver skies for twenty years. So, sit back, relax, and enjoy our special Super Saver snack service,” says the pilot.

Wait a sexy second. “No one told me there would be snacks,” I say to Nolan, latching onto this new intel.

“I didn’t know they were offering your favorite meal of the day,” he says.

Seriously. Snacks are life. I am shook. “Imagine if they have seaweed snacks, veggie chips, hummus and dip.” I sigh happily.

He laughs. “You’re adorable when you fantasize.”

This convo is much better than talk of luck, chances, and desperate hope.

In the aisle, a flight attendant carries a beverage tray slung around her neck like a ballpark vendor peddling beer.

I nod her way and whisper to Nolan, “I’m not only thinking of snacks. I’m also thinking of what we can do with them.”

He cackles with delight. “You. Me. Same wavelength.” He tries to point from his chest to mine but can hardly maneuver his arm. “Do we have room to shoot an episode?”

“We’ll make room. It’ll be an up-close-and-personal rating of the snacks.” This is brilliant. Not only will the rest of the flight pass quickly, but I can edit the episode while he drives us around the city. Then I won’t have to think about the fact that we’ll be sleeping down the hall from each other tonight.

The flight attendant stops at our row, batting her glittery blue eyelids at us, her twin pigtails bouncing. “Would you like a Super Saver Cola? A Super Saver Diet Cola? Or a fresh bottle of delicious water?”

With a straight face, Nolan views the offerings in her case. The cans are silver with black writing—in Comic Sans. They look so . . . fake. “So many choices.”

The attendant smiles wanly.

Nolan’s shrug translates to why not take a free drink. “I’ll have a Diet Cola, please.”

“Water for me,” I add.

“Great. That’ll be twenty dollars.”

Whoa. Those are hotel minibar prices. Must have heard her wrong. “Excuse me,” I say warily. “Did you say twenty dollars? Are you sure?”

She nods decisively. “Yes, ten dollars a drink. If you want ice, it’s five dollars extra.”

Hold all the horses.

“You charge for the ice,” Nolan says staccato, each word laden with the full weight of shock.

“Yes, we do. Because ice is cool,” she says blandly, like that’s her go-to line every single time because she probably says it to every single passenger.

I guess this is how Super Saver Airlines can afford to have such cheap tickets.

“Thanks, but I’ll pass,” I say.

She lifts her case higher to show us some snack bags. Each is plain white with bold writing. “Want some pretzels?”

“What’s the damage on those bad boys?” Nolan asks.

“Fifteen a bag,” she says.

He whistles. “A veritable bargain.”

Damn. This snack racket would pay off my loans in no time. But there goes the airplane food review plan. I won’t spend that much for a shtick, and neither will Nolan. I didn’t know about my best friend’s solitaire good luck habit, but I’d bet all my makeup brushes he’ll turn down the ridiculously priced snacks.

“No, thanks,” Nolan says.

Yup. I was right.

“Let me know if you change your minds,” the flight attendant says, then peers across me to the guy in the window seat.

The Drakkar Noir guy comes alive, his salacious eyes sailing up to the attendant. “I’ll take your number, sweetheart,” he says in a voice thicker than a shag carpet.