"Usually, but I love me some Krispy Kreme."
I looked out the large floor-to-ceiling window. The sun hadn't come up yet, so it was still too dark outside to see anything but my reflection staring back at me. Our flight to Nashville was due to leave in forty-five minutes and everyone at our gate seemed eager to start boarding. A fluttering of panic settled in my stomach, which increased in intensity as the minutes clanked by. If I left now I could go back to my nice, safe apartment. It wasn't that I was afraid of flying. It was the idea of spending the next twenty-one days with someone I couldn't connect with that had my mood as black as the sky outside.
Alec, on the other hand, was like the freaking sun. "You know, we don't have to be enemies," he said, taking a large bite of his dreamy glazed breakfast. My mouth watered. Krispy Kreme doughnuts were one of my weaknesses.
I tore my eyes away from the enticing glistening pastry. "We're not enemies. I don't even know you well enough to be your enemy. I don't want to know you well enough to be enemies, or anything else for that matter." I hated being mean. That wasn't my personality. Everyone who knew me would say the same thing. Most of the time I would bend over backward to make sure everyone was happy. My mom said I was a born people pleaser. She liked to joke that nice ran through my DNA like fleas on a dog.
Alec didn't reply right away, but his eyes bore into me as he rolled up his paper bag. "Nicole, shouldn't you be happy I wasn't willing to take things further? That you weren't wasting yourself on a one-night stand?"
I couldn't help looking around in embarrassment. It wasn't like we were sitting at an empty gate. "What do you want, a thank you?" I hissed through gritted teeth.
"I'm just saying you should be glad I wasn't a dick. I'm not saying you have to thank me, but surely you realize I did us both a favor."
Laughter erupted out of me. He had to be kidding. "A favor? Of course. Why hadn't I seen it before? Rejecting me was like getting an extra slice of birthday cake. I'm so glad you stopped things when you did." I stood up angrily, no longer worried about the people sitting around us.
Gripping the handle of my carry-on suitcase, I stomped away, much like a child threatening to run away. What a bullshit way to justify what happened between us that night. He basically told me I wasn't worthy of having sex with and then wanted to tell me he did me a favor. I walked past the filled rows of seats to stand by the window. In the reflection of the glass, I saw that someone had taken the empty seat I had vacated next to Alec.
Stubbornly, I remained by the window until the boarding of our flight was announced. The first rays of the sun were beginning to peek through the horizon, filling the sky with delicate shades of pink and creamsicle orange. My actions felt more and more childish the longer I stood there. Regardless of our history, I had to figure out a way to make it through this trip. Olivia had been right. This wasn't high school.
Thirty minutes later, I probably would have jumped from the plane without a parachute if given the chance. A hard thump hit the back of my seat, jolting me for about the hundredth time since we had taken off.
"Johnny, please stop kicking the poor lady's seat."
"Nooooooooo," Johnny bellowed, making several passengers turn to look at the offending row where he was currently tormenting his mother.
"Sorry. He's just excited to be flying," Johnny the Kicker's mom said, peeking between our seats.
"It's fine," I said, flashing her a tight-lipped smile. Alec shook with silent laughter. Without thinking, I swung my foot out bringing it smartly against his shin.
"Damn, woman," he said, rubbing his shin. The way Johnny's mom gasped, it sounded like she may have thought Alec was talking to her. Regardless, it was enough to make me smile.
Alec leaned in conspiratorially to whisper into my ear. "You know you could tell her it's not okay?"
"Or you could just switch seats with me," I said out of the corner of my mouth.
"Not on your life. Johnny might find himself strapped to the wing of the plane if we did that."
I couldn't help snorting with laughter, nearly losing my iPad from my lap.
"What are you working on?"
"Nothing much. I planned on starting the sequel to Wicked Lovely, but my brain is refusing to cooperate. I'm never very productive when I have a lot going on. I should probably resign myself to the fact that I won't get any writing done for the next few weeks," I said, closing my iPad.
"How many books do you write a year?" He stretched his long legs out in the limited space.
"I seem to be averaging one every four to five months start to finish."
He whistled through his teeth. "Impressive."
"That's nothing. I have friends who release more than that. It makes my head spin sometimes. Readers seem to love it though."
"I guess I didn't realize books were produced that fast. I feel like I have to wait forever for some of my favorite authors to put a book out."
"That's traditionally published books. They tend to move slower because of the way they fill their release calendar. Indie-published authors have the autonomy to release whenever they want." The conversation felt odd. We were talking like we were friends.
He held out the bag with the remaining doughnut inside. Unable to deny my hunger any longer, I accepted it and made him grin when I devoured the tasty treat in two bites.
"Impressive," he said, crumpling up the bag.