Fight or Flight

by Young, Samantha

  Knowing I couldn’t stay in the restroom any longer, I slipped out, nearly bumping into the woman who had been sitting in the seat in front of the Scot.

  “Sorry.” I smiled apologetically. “Have you been waiting long?”

  She shook her head, her expression filled with a sympathy that didn’t make sense until she said, “It’s okay. If I were sitting next to that jerk-off, I’d want to stay in there forever too.”

  Of course the people around us had heard our conversation. Weirdly, when I was talking to the miserable bully, I forgot everything else around me but him. That knowledge was not welcome. “Yeah,” I managed feebly.

  “Good for you, though. You know how to handle him. I think I’d probably have been thrown off the plane before we even took off. You know, for swinging a punch at him.”

  I laughed and thanked her, walking back to my seat feeling relief move through me that our flight was nearly over. As I approached, the Scot looked up at me. His gaze dropped to his computer but only for a millisecond before it flew back up. That arctic stare of his moved over my cleavage, now visible in the cami that was tucked into my high-waist pencil skirt.

  A shiver I detested for betraying me skated down my neck.

  His eyes flew back up to my face and he no longer looked right through me.

  He appeared displeased.

  Narrowing my eyes, wondering what the hell I’d done now, I gestured to my seat. “Can you let me back in?”

  He snapped his laptop shut, dropping his table again. “High maintenance,” he murmured quietly.

  I gripped the now empty seat in front of him and turned my back to him as I shimmied in. “Yeah, needing to pee is so high maintenance.”

  My left foot hit his left foot and he pressed his knees in closer to the back of my thighs, trapping me.

  I glanced over my shoulder, about to snap at him, only to catch him glaring at my ass. There was an angry heat in that stare, heat he hadn’t looked at me with before. The kind of heat a guy usually had in his eyes when he wanted to find the nearest bed and throw me on it.

  Suddenly, the image of him looming over me, his body pressed between my legs, flashed through me in a surge of fire that shocked and pissed me off in equal measure.

  Huh.

  I snapped my head back around, not going there. “Would you move?” I bit out.

  His knees suddenly pulled back and I stumbled out of his space and tumbled into my seat with less grace than I’d have liked.

  Feeling his gaze on me, I shot him what had to be the hundredth filthy look of the day. “What?”

  Instead of answering, he turned, bent down toward the aisle, and came back up with my jacket in his hand. I hadn’t even realized I’d dropped it. He shoved it at me and I snatched it out of his hold.

  “What? No thank you?” he mocked.

  “I’m not going to thank you for not getting out of your seat to let me into mine like someone with good manners would have done.”

  He grunted and turned back to his laptop.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, we’re now approaching Chicago O’Hare,” the head flight attendant announced over the cabin PA. “Please put any larger devices like laptops safely in the overhead bins, stow tray tables, and return your seats to their upright positions for landing …” Her words faded out for me as my gaze unwittingly moved to watch the Scot put away his laptop. He stowed his table and got up out of his seat, stretching to his full height. He easily reached the overhead bins, putting his laptop away in its bag. I let my eyes wander down his long body, wishing that people with ugly insides could have some kind of monstrous appearance on the outside. In fact, if I was wishing for things I’d wish that my body wasn’t as fickle as it was, that it had somehow evolved past cavewoman mentality, that it didn’t lust for this kind of masculine virility I didn’t even know still existed.

  Need gripped my lower body, a clench of desire followed by a tingling I couldn’t deny. Flushing, I wrenched my gaze away from him and began to shrug back into my jacket.

  God, I hated him.

  Our seats jolted a little when he threw himself back into his. He immediately clipped his seat belt on and I side-eyed him. His fingers were curled tight again over the ends of the arms of the divider between us.

  Okay, if I was really wishing for things, I would wish I wasn’t so softhearted, because I still felt a little sorry for him. Although I truly did not like this man, I also disliked the idea of someone who could clearly take care of himself being held captive by fear. I had a feeling that would bother this guy more than it would most people.

  We sat in tense silence as the plane gradually descended, closing in on landing.

  “I can feel you stewing over there.”

  I shouldn’t have engaged with him, but I, unlike him, did not lack a heart and I knew that the only reason he was talking right now was because he needed the distraction. He was just too much of a baby to admit he needed me to distract him. So I answered, infusing the annoyance he wanted from me in my answer. “I’m not stewing.”

  “You’re stewing.”

  “You don’t know me well enough to know if I’m stewing.”

  He sighed. “Babe, no one would need tae know you tae know you’re stewing. Everything you’re feeling you wear on your face.”

  “Not true. I bet you don’t know what I’m feeling right now.”

  “You’re feeling murderous with a hint of sympathy.”

  My lips parted in amazement at his intuitiveness.

  He rolled his eyes. “Murderous, fine. But to hell with your sympathy.”

  “You’re awful. You know that, right? Like, truly awful. Is there anyone in this world who doesn’t think that?”

  “My entire family. Colleagues. Friends. The women I’ve had sex with.”

  Heat bloomed in my cheeks at his bluntness and the imagery it brought to mind. “I think you’re probably delusional about the last one.”

  “I dinnae think so.” His cold gaze drifted over me again, and then he abruptly looked away. “Uptight princesses just dinnae understand. They choose the wrong men who dinnae know how tae pleasure them and write sex off, thinking women who enjoy it are lying.”

  That’s what he thought. “I’ve had good sex. Great sex.” It had been years ago and it was followed by heart-wrenching betrayal, but it had been great sex.

  He stared at me, I think trying to discern if I was being sincere. “That’s surprising.”

  Uncomfortable with the way his eyes bore through me, I decided it was definitely time for a subject change. “So this family of yours … do they know you’re obnoxiously rude?”

  “Why would they? I’m nice tae them.”

  “Oh, so you admit that you’re mean to me?”

  “Maybe I am. Maybe I need tae be.”

  That enigmatic answer infuriated me almost more than anything else he’d said. “What does that mean?”

  The freeze in his eyes suddenly warmed. “It means”—his deep voice juddered a little as the plane bounced onto the runway—“I need you tae hate me.”

  I screwed up my face. “What kind of bullcrap is that?”

  His lips twitched as he studied me. “The kind that means you won’t be amenable tae sleeping with me.”

  Genuine surprise locked me in place. “Excuse me?”

  “You don’t want tae sleep with me, do you?”

  “No,” I answered emphatically, because as much as I was unwillingly attracted to him, I really didn’t like him. More than that, I didn’t respect him.

  I thought I saw a flicker of displeasure in his expression at my sincere reply. “Good,” he bit out, and looked away. I knew the moment he realized we’d landed because he turned back to me. His countenance softened just a little. It was a look that said the words he was apparently incapable of saying out loud.

  I thought I might have imagined the silent thank you until he gave me a curt nod.

  I nodded back.

  Quite abruptly he snapped off his seat
belt and got up as everyone else did. Maybe it was his appearance, but the other passengers seemed to move out of his way after he grabbed his laptop bag out of the overhead. He strode past them down the aisle to wait in the galley to be let off the plane first.

  Without another word.

  Without even looking back at me.

  “So rude.”

  Five

  For the life of me, I couldn’t remember the last time a shower had felt so good. The water pounded down on my shoulders, easing the tension, and they automatically dropped from where they’d been hunched up around my neck. As much as I wanted to be back in Boston, I was happy to be out of Arizona. I usually found O’Hare intimidating because of its size and how busy it was, but right then I didn’t care. All I cared about was that I had made it to a hotel room, that the concierge had arranged to dry-clean a few of my outfits so I’d have something to wear down to dinner that evening, and that I’d finally sleep well miles away from my hometown.

  Rather than get on a shuttle to some other hotel farther from the airport, I decided to stay at the hotel with an indoor walkway between it and the domestic terminals. The rooms boasted sound-resistant windows, I had a great view of the runway from the floor-to-ceiling window in the separate living room, and it meant I could sleep in a little longer before my flight in the morning.

  As soon as I’d arrived at the hotel, I’d called Harper to let her know I’d landed and confessed to her how much my whole body had seemed to relax as soon as I’d stepped off that airplane. Just knowing I was out of Phoenix had a massive effect on my body. It was like King Kong had snatched me up, squeezing me tight in his whole fist from the moment I’d landed in Arizona, kept hold of me during my stay in Arcadia, and finally as soon as I knew for certain I was in Illinois, the big ape let me go to return from whence he came.

  Nick’s face flashed across my mind. Grief-stricken. Confused. Angry.

  It was followed by the accusatory expressions of all the people who used to be my friends.

  “She died still thinking this was all her fault. It wasn’t all her fault. We were to blame too. But you couldn’t let it go, Ava. You couldn’t forgive her. Now you can live the rest of your life knowing I’ll never forgive you.”

  I didn’t care if Nick would never forgive me. But I cared that I had never forgiven Gemma.

  Once upon a time Gem had been the closest thing I had to a real family.

  And just like that, memories I’d been trying to hold at bay flooded in …

  This is going to be the greatest three days of our lives!” Gemma whooped, throwing her hands in the air as the wind whipped her shoulder-length dark hair behind her.

  I threw my best friend a wide grin before turning my attention back to the road. Excitement filled me as I drove my blue convertible west down the I-10. It was the end of April, we had all but graduated from high school since the ceremony was just a few weeks away, and we were about to have our first real taste of freedom.

  “Coachella 2006, baby!” Gem yelled again.

  “Could you be any more excited?” I shouted over the sound of the car radio.

  I felt her warm hazel eyes on my face. “Bree-Bree”—she called me by her childhood nickname for me—“this is the first day of our lives. For the last three years we’ve had to suffer under the authority of my parents at Coachella. Finally, we are eighteen, fully grown adults who can set up camp without my father complaining that the music is too loud while my mother whines about sleeping in a tent. Now, I love that they love me so much they would put up with going to a music festival for me every year. But I can’t say I’m not freaking excited that me and my best girl get to do Coachella on our own together.”

  “I can’t believe your parents agreed to it.” And I couldn’t. My parents didn’t even flinch when I told them Gem and I had bought a parking spot at Coachella and were cutting school for two days to drive to California. We’d arrive that night, stay at a hotel, and then park up the next day, a Friday, in the spot we’d paid for. All by ourselves.

  “They trust me.”

  I snorted, thinking of all the crazy stuff Gem got up to behind her parents’ backs. The only reason they thought she was trustworthy was because I was there to make sure she was always okay. That was me. Miss Responsible.

  “What?” She chuckled. “I’m trustworthy.”

  “Well, of course your parents think that. They don’t know about Kade Moreno and his pickup truck three years ago.”

  “Well, yeah. No parent should ever know how their kid lost her virginity.”

  “Or that they lost it to the biggest manwhore in the entire state.”

  “He was experienced.”

  “Yeah, because he’s a manwhore.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Whatever. Just because I have crappy taste in boys does not mean I’m not trustworthy.”

  “You took their Range Rover on a joyride to impress Styler James and let your mom take the blame for the dent you put in it.”

  “Yeah, but I felt bad about that. Styler so wasn’t worth it.”

  “And what about the time you challenged Pete Manning to a beer-chugging competition and Nick had to carry you out of there? We kept you hidden until you were sober and well enough to go home.”

  “Are you, like, keeping a journal of all my misdemeanors?” Gem laughed. “You make me sound way more wild than I am.”

  “You are wild.”

  “Luckily I have you to always make sure I don’t go too far over the line.” She threw her arm around my shoulders and gave me an affectionate squeeze before releasing me.

  The familiar citrusy smell of her shampoo tickled my nose and with it I was suddenly flooded by love and concern for my best friend. My whole life my best friends Gem and Nick had been more like family to me than my own. Especially Gem. She was the sister I never had. The one person I could turn to for everything. I could turn to Nick for a lot of things too, but he was my boyfriend. It was different.

  I could tell Gem absolutely anything and she would never judge me. I had her love and her loyalty and she had mine in return, plus my overprotectiveness toward her. In a few short months we would be at college and it would be the first time since we were four years old that we’d be apart.

  “I’ll be three hours away when we go to college,” I said. “I won’t be there for you then.”

  Gem reached over to turn down the volume on the radio. “No. No worries, no melancholy. Not this weekend.” I saw her shake her head out of the corner of my eye. “And if it makes you feel any better, I’ll have Nick.”

  It did make me feel slightly better knowing Nick would watch out for Gem. He was in his freshman year at Georgia State studying computer science. He played football and he was smart. Totally the whole package. Gem would be following him there to study law, which Nick and I both thought was hilarious because Gem was the biggest rule breaker we knew.

  “I just can’t believe after this summer we won’t be together.” Tears clogged my throat anytime I thought about it too hard. “I should have chosen to do interior design at Georgia.”

  “Okay, first off, we’ve already had that argument. And I won! Savannah is the better school for you. End of story. Two, let me repeat that there will be no sadness this weekend. This is Gem and Bree-Bree do Coachella! We have a tent, a case of beer you’re adorably nervous about having hidden in the trunk, and a weekend of Daft Punk, Metric, Massive Attack, and more to look forward to. And you know what makes it even more awesome? The fact that Coachella isn’t really your thing. It’s my thing. But you came so I can share something I love with you. So it makes it our thing. And we are not going to be sad at our thing.”

  I knew she was right. I smiled at her before returning my attention to the road. “Coachella, here we come.” It was true that a music festival wasn’t really my thing, but I’d started going with Gem every year, not only because she wanted me there so we could escape into the festival away from her parents, but because I loved getting away from my ho
use and my parents for an entire weekend. When I was with Gem and her mom and dad, I felt like I was part of their family.

  Perhaps it sounded pathetic, but I was afraid of losing the family I’d made with her.

  As she had an uncanny ability to do, Gem sensed my thoughts. “A three-hour drive isn’t going to change us, Bree-Bree. Best friends forever.”

  My hands tightened on the wheel. “Promise?”

  I glanced at her and saw her draw a cross in the air above her chest. “Cross my heart.”

  Determined not to be a wet blanket, I exhaled shakily and then shimmied my shoulders as if I was shuffling a melancholy grip off of me. “Coachella, here we come!” I repeated more forcefully.

  Gem whooped beside me. “Hey!” She fidgeted excitedly in her seat. “I have an idea. Let’s do Coachella every year. I mean, we’ve already started it as a tradition, but it’s different now that it’s just you and me. Let’s make it always just you and me. No matter the new friends that enter our lives or how serious you and Nick get. You. Me. Coachella. Every damn year.”

  Warmth suffused me. “Definitely.”

  Gem turned the volume back up on the radio. We drove for another few minutes when she suddenly reached across to turn the volume back down. Feeling her gaze, I looked at her. Her expression was serious, sincere. “I love you, Bree-Bree. You’re my family. Family is forever. I’m yours and you’re mine and nothing will ever change that.”

  We kept our promise, and no matter what was going on in our lives, we got in a damn car and drove to Coachella, just the two of us, until the year after I graduated.

  I’d never been to the festival since, and anytime I heard mention of it on the radio or television, I felt a sharp pain in my chest. Harper had brought up the idea of going once. After my grim reaction, she never mentioned it again.

  I tried never to think back to my times with Gem there, because I was afraid of what I’d remember. Afraid to remember that once upon a time we were two young women who loved each other as deeply as sisters.