I feel around, and my fingers find a stiff piece of paper.
It’s a ticket.
The blood drains from my face. “Alec. This is too—no. You cannot buy me a first-class ticket for a flight from Seattle to LA.”
“It’s not a big deal, Gigi.”
“It is to me. A very big deal.”
He steps closer, cupping my face. “You haven’t slept. Even before last night you were exhausted.”
“Which is exactly why I could easily pass out in a coach seat!”
“If you don’t want it, you still have your other ticket.” He leans in, resting his lips on mine. It does something weird to my heart, this kiss. It’s unquestionably our last one. “You’ve really given me a gift, just being here.” Stepping back, he looks down at his watch. “I’ll head to the airport separately. I have some things I need to do. But I’ve arranged for a car to get you at six.”
My heart has fallen into my stomach. “Okay. Wow. Thanks—thank you. For the car and the room. And the underwear and the ticket.” I feel awkward the longer this list gets. “And the drinks,” I say. The next words come out before I can stop them: “And the great sex.”
He laughs. “It was great. Unbelievable, really.” He backs out of the bathroom and closes the door only after giving me a final “Take care, Gigi.”
As much as I think I won’t, I look for him at the gate, growing increasingly worried when he fails to appear. Once I’m in my seat, I watch every person pass by and wonder, Did you end up getting my coach seat? Are you making it home also thanks to Alexander Kim? Where is he? Did he give me his ticket?
And in fact, Alec is the last person on the plane. He boards wearing a baseball hat, sunglasses, and with his phone pressed to his ear.
As he passes my seat, 1B, he gives me a tiny smile but doesn’t stop to talk.
Of course, the first sign that I was missing something important was Alec’s small speech in bed this morning. But the second is maybe more obvious: All three flight attendants come over to greet him within only a few minutes of him sitting down. Two rows behind me, on the other side of the aisle. 3C, my brain screams. Which means, he can see me, but I can’t see him unless I turn around to look.
I need a distraction and bend, pulling out my phone before they tell us to go into airplane mode, texting Eden.
hi. I’m finally headed home.
She replies instantly, as I knew she would: her phone is attached to her hand. Yes! I missed you. Can we hang tonight? I’m off.
It’s a fair question. She’s my best friend and roommate, but a bartender who works Wednesday through Sunday. I see the hot part-timer at the Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf more often than I see Eden. I might pass out midsentence but you have me until I’m comatose.
I hit send and then stare at my phone. I want to talk this out in person; no one else would understand how great last night was in the context of Georgia’s Really Shitty Year. But Alec getting onto the plane in such a covert way and the fawning attention of the flight attendants leave a weird feeling of disbelief coating my memories. He’s next-level hot, yes, but who is he? Did I miss something really important? I can’t help reeling back through every moment we spent in the bar, catching up.
So, I type to Eden, and hit send to keep her attention on our text box and away from her Viki app. I’m sure she’s lying in bed, watching kissing scenes from her favorite dramas, and it’s almost impossible to snag her focus once it’s gone that route. I had a one-night stand.
Because I am absolutely the last person she would ever expect to do such a thing, she sends back is a string of exclamation points followed by a W H A T
It was so wild, and I will tell you everything when I get home, but he bought me a first-class ticket home and got on the plane last this morning and the flight attendants went over to greet him and now I’m sitting on the plane going WHO IS THIS GUY
Yes who is the guy???
Do you remember my friend Sunny who moved when we were twelve? It’s her brother. I recognized him. Teenage me is dead on the floor.
Omg I bet
He must have a million airline miles though lol because they love him
Was it good? she asks.
I stare at my phone. Saying only yes feels like a lie, because it wasn’t just good. I can still feel him.
It changed me—God, so cheesy—but not in a way that means I’m desperate to see him again or need to have more of this. I mean that I think it changed me and my shitty post-Spencer thought pattern. It reminded me that real, genuine human connection isn’t a fluke. I wish I had elaborated more on that this morning when I said last night was what I needed, because I like the idea that Alec might take that with him into whatever he finds next. After all, who cares if I made a fool of myself by being so bare and forthcoming? I’m never seeing him again, and at least he would know that his ability to show himself to me like that meant something.
I type one letter at a time—it was really amazing, E—and then delete it all, because it feels like I’m sharing something sacred. I try again, It was exactly what I needed, and then delete that, too. Too cliché.