Regardless of how small the possibility was that it was him, I did everything I could to avoid any eye contact and limit the chance of him spotting me. I sank further into my seat and dropped my gaze. The last time we’d met, he’d almost put me in hospital just for breaking Alyssa’s heart. I really didn’t feel like adding another black eye to my current collection of complaints, or risk him turning hairline fractures into something much worse.
The man I hoped wasn’t Josh headed for the counter. I turned my head to the right to stare at the wall to avoid catching his eye. The instant his booming voice greeted the cashier, I was left with no doubt that it was him. The sound sent my heart racing. Even though I hadn’t seen Alyssa for years, and he had no reason to have any continuing beef with me, I wasn’t willing to take the chance that he wouldn’t smack me in the mouth just for the fun of it. After our last meeting, I wouldn’t put anything past him.
He was built like a brick shithouse and had fists to match. For a while, Ruth and Curtis, Alyssa’s parents, had thought Josh might end up playing Rugby League professionally. I wasn’t sure whether he’d followed through on that dream, but I hadn’t seen him in any games so I doubted it. He’d probably followed Alyssa’s career advice and given up on those dreams because they were too impossible.
He ordered a short black and a caramel macchiato. I froze and my mouth went dry. I may not have seen Alyssa in years, but I could easily recall her favourite drink. She’d tried a few different things before settling on the caramel macchiato. Her voice echoed through me, filling my mind with the words she’d said when she’d raved to me about it after she’d gone into the city with her other best friend, Jade. Alyssa’s smile had been bright as she’d told me about this drink she’d found that was heaven in a cup.
I closed my eyes and focused on naming each of the corners of Bathurst in my mind in order to block the memory. Nothing positive could come from reliving the good times Alyssa and I had once shared. It was a long time ago, before I’d shattered her heart to follow my dreams.
When I thought of Forest Elbow, my mind spiralled back into the place I’d been straight after crashing at Bathurst. I put my head on the table and groaned. Surely my own personal demon could not be at the airport to haunt my escape as well as my races? My heart pounded in my chest and it became harder to breathe.
It doesn’t mean she’s here, I reasoned with myself as I brushed one hand through my hair. After all, how many people in the world must drink caramel macchiatos? It wasn’t like Alyssa was the only one and had invented something completely unique. It was a standard menu item, for fuck’s sake.
Get a fucking grip, Reede!
Without lifting my head from the cool surface of the table, I turned slightly to glance at Josh. He gave no hint why he was there, or what he was doing in Sydney in general, as he casually flirted with the barista before collecting his drinks. To go.
I kept my head down until he’d walked past me again without giving me a moment’s consideration.
My mouth twisted and my stomach plummeted. With him gone, I would never know whether or not she had actually been there. I felt the loss of that information acutely before I pushed it away. It wasn’t like I cared about her or wanted to see her anyway. Not really. No more than I would have wanted to see anyone from school who had suddenly materialised in my vicinity. I downed the last of my coffee despite my protesting stomach.
Pushing the sighting out of my head, I made a beeline for the newsagents, determined to pick up the latest copy of a few of the various Holden magazines so that I’d at least have something to read on the plane. I hadn’t even entered the newsagency when I saw part of the reason for the trip staring out at me from the stands at the front of the store. Multiple copies of the latest Gossip Weekly lined the wall. I pulled my hat down even further and ducked my head as I pushed past the display.
Please God, don’t let anyone recognise me in front of the Gossip Weekly stand.
I moved straight into the men’s magazines section. The one housing the magazines filled with cars, bikes, girls, or some combination of the three. Once I was there, I breathed a little easier. It would at least be less embarrassing to be recognised away from that wall.
I had three different magazines in my hand, debating the merits of each one, when I heard Josh’s booming voice again.
“God, that Declan Reede thinks he’s all that and a bag of fucking chips, doesn’t he?”
Holy fuck! Instinctively, I ducked down lower than the top of the shelves. A grunt of pain rushed from my lips as the movement strained my injury. I pressed myself against the magazines to ensure he didn’t see me if he spun around.
Even though my first thoughts were of avoidance, and my second were wondering why he was there, I had enough sense to figure he was commenting on the Gossip Weekly cover. If he’d seen me, I doubted his voice would still hold the jovial edge it had. Just in case though, my gaze darted left and right to ensure he wasn’t beside me. I practically rested against the shelves, trying to ensure I was well and truly out of sight. Why couldn’t he just disappear already and leave me alone to get on the plane in peace?
“Yeah right, babe, you need to face facts.”
It was clear someone had responded to him, but I hadn’t heard what they’d said or even whether it was a male or female. My fists clenched and my teeth ground together. I wanted so badly to look, but stayed crouched on the ground instead. I may not have been a coward, but I wasn’t a fucking idiot either. The dude was at least twice my size, had fists like tenderizing mallets, and I couldn’t be certain whether he was over his vendetta against me or not. Considering the way I’d left Alyssa, I wasn’t willing to put my head on the chopping block on a maybe. The vivid memory of him pounding me into the ground over and over again, and then of the long recovery, was enough to force me to keep low and out of sight.
“That boy is so far up himself he’d need a compass and a flashlight to get out again.”
I thought I heard a female laugh. With my heart smashing against my ribs, I straightened a little to get a look. My hands shook as I reached up to try to move closer to the top of the magazine stand. All I could see was Josh’s back as he paid the cashier for whatever he’d purchased. When he left the store, he walked just behind the person he was with; almost stalking them like a bodyguard would. Because of his position, I didn’t get a clear view of his companion.
I didn’t want to risk following them to find out. My curiosity was not worth the pain, and not just the physical one. If by some unfortunate miracle, he was with Alyssa, I didn’t necessarily want to see her when the whole purpose behind my trip was to get her out of my head. Just before he disappeared around the next corner, I heard him ask, “So how do you think Phoebe’s going to go while you’re off on this little adventure?”
I didn’t hear the reply. Once I heard his voice retreat far enough away I moved out of my hiding spot and toward the counter. I purchased all three magazines I’d been looking at. The covers were warped and bent due to the sweat from my palms seeping in as I’d wrung them while hiding. Besides, I wasn’t willing to risk hanging around the newsagency any longer than I needed. Josh and his friend might realise they’d forgotten something and return. If they did, I didn’t want to risk running into them.
While I debated possible safe hiding places, I thought about Josh’s words.
“You’re off on this adventure.”
I presumed that meant he was saying goodbye to someone and not flying himself. On that assumption, I headed straight to security. At least if he didn’t have a ticket, he couldn’t haunt me through there.
I shoved the magazines into my carry-on luggage and placed it down onto the conveyer belt. After checking to ensure that Josh was nowhere to be seen, I put my wallet, keys, sunglasses, and hat into one of the little boxes and slid that behind my bag. The security officer called me through the metal detector.
He looked a little bored as he waved me through, but then he did an almost comic
al double-take as I walked closer to him.
“Holy fuck! You’re Declan Reede.”
Oh really? I’m glad you told me because I’d been wondering who the fuck I was. I bit my tongue and smiled as politely as I could manage. “Yeah.”
“Can I get you to sign something for my son, he’s a huge fan.”
Sure, your “son.” I resisted the eye roll that was building. Most people asked me to sign for someone else, but I often wondered how many were just using it as a ruse rather than admit the autographs were actually for themselves.
“No problem,” I said. “Have you got a pen and paper?”
He hunted for something, and I wanted more than anything to just tell him to forget it and walk away rather than let him waste any more of my time. It was the usual issue though, and the biggest problem with doing autographs. If I refused to sign things, the fans thought it was because I was too arrogant. If I did sign stuff, anyone who saw me assumed it was because I was full of myself. It was absolutely a lose-lose scenario.
My jaw tightened as the guard took another minute to find something. I didn’t owe him anything—not my time or my squiggle. I was on holiday, not there in any official capacity.
Maybe Danny won’t be too pissed if I tell this guy to fuck off.
The only thing that stopped me was that I’d learned long ago the two groups of people to never be rude to: those who prepared anything I ate or drank and those who had special potential to make my life more difficult. The guard definitely fell into the second group. I’d likely be held in some interrogation room, strip searched, and probed if I was too rude.
When he shoved a pen and paper in front of me, I quickly scribbled down a note. It was just the usual, “Race hard! Declan Reede” crap, but it made him happy. Handing it back to him, I breathed a sigh of relief that no one else had noticed. Or at least, no one else had approached. I understood that fans were important in the grand scheme of things, but when I was at a fucking airport trying not to draw attention to myself, the last thing I needed was a pack of autograph hounds chasing after me.
I quickly slipped my cap and sunglasses back on, ready to return to some semblance of anonymity, but it was too late. I’d barely taken two steps when the people who came through security behind me raced after me, calling my name loudly before asking for my autograph. Half an hour later, with a severe cramp in my hand, I’d finally signed autographs for almost everyone who wanted one. The one I hadn’t signed was a copy of Gossip Weekly thrust in front of my nose. Even I had my limits in vulgarity.
Once I’d broken free of the pack, I headed straight for the airport lounge, thankful that I had a membership considering Danny had only sprung for premium economy rather than the usual business class seat. I hid away in the corner with my back to all the other passengers and my cap tipped low over my face. I just wanted everyone to leave me the hell alone. There was enough shit going through my mind without needing to worry about other people.
I waited until the last normal call before I boarded. I really didn’t want to be stuck on the plane any longer than necessary, but I also didn’t want the airline to call my name over the loud speaker, effectively telling everyone in the airport that I was one of those arrogant people who think the whole plane should wait for them. Not to mention the risk that they’d announce my name on the plane as well, thereby informing everyone that they had a celebrity in their midst.
Walking up to the attendant at the gate, I handed over my boarding pass. When I did, I flipped her the best smile I could manage in the circumstances. Although I was positive it was more of a grimace, she let it slide and returned with a lifted lip of her own. She directed me through to the tunnel and then I entered the plane.
The next flight attendant looked at my ticket and pointed me in the direction of my seat. When I followed her directions, I smiled. There was a fine piece of tail bent over across the seats already. No doubt that gorgeous arse belonged to the person who would be sitting next to me for the duration of the flight. Or at least the first leg of it. More than enough time to find out if I’d have her joining the mile-high club, regardless of the doctor’s no-nookie rule.
As I walked closer, I admired the view. Whoever it was, she was struggling to get something out of her carry-on bag. Then I saw it. The now sickeningly familiar cover of Gossip Weekly.
Fuck.
At least ten hours, and possibly another twelve if we shared similar seats on the next leg, stuck next to someone who not only read Gossip Weekly, which would have been bad enough at the best of times, but who also had the issue with me ungraciously gracing the front cover as their early inflight entertainment.
The woman stood, and, if possible, things got worse for me. She was a fucking brunette. Which meant there wasn’t even a chance of me trying to add another notch to my mile-high club belt if by some miracle she was impressed by public displays of lewdness and wanted an example of my prowess.
Great.
It was crystal clear the flight was going to be an hours-long torture test.
She pulled her bag up from the seat and tried to stow it in the overhead compartment, but was just a little too short to balance it properly. I watched her struggle for half a second, her blouse pulling up away from her stomach and displaying a sliver of her silky-smooth, milk-coloured skin. When it was clear she couldn’t do it alone, I closed the last of the distance between us and reached my hands up to help. Even though I wasn’t really in the position to be lifting anything, the bag looked light enough.
“Would you like some assistance?” I offered.
At first, I assumed that I’d startled her, because she froze and everything she held in her hands came toppling down on top of both of us. I wasn’t prepared for it, so the bag slipped straight through my hands, knocking off my hat and sunglasses as it fell.
I stumbled to catch my hat and then dropped to the floor to retrieve my sunglasses.
“Fuck!” I cried out as the move caused a sharp stabbing in my injured side.
Not wanting to be an arse, despite my injury, I put my hand out to help my seat-neighbour with her carry-on. At some point, she’d bent down too. Her breathing was shallow and her hands quivered as she reached to grab her bag off me. I thought she must have been a fan or something, so I raised my eyes to offer my assistance again.
Holy fuck!
CHAPTER SEVEN: UNDISCOVERED TERRITORY
I COULDN’T MOVE.
I couldn’t think.
All that kept running through my mind was holy fuck!
A flight attendant tapped me on the shoulder and I felt some semblance of feeling return to me. Too bad it was a hollow feeling that churned my stomach and stopped my breath. Finishing the coffee earlier despite my roiling stomach was an infinitely stupider decision than I’d thought. My stomach coiled back on itself and the taste of stale coffee rose in my throat like bile.
“Are you two okay here?” the attendant asked. “We need to get everyone seated for take-off.”
I nodded vaguely as I saw the red blush run up her cheeks. Her gaze hadn’t left mine since I’d met it, and she held me captive like a proverbial deer in the headlights. I wondered if she felt as breathless and empty as I did.
Hollow. Empty. Cold.
Finally her honey-gold eyes turned from me to the cabin crew member, releasing the hold she had over me and leaving me free to think again. As if a levee wall burst, my mind was filled with images, memories of the last time I’d seen those eyes. That blush.
Alyssa.
Her name was on my lips, but I couldn’t speak it. My mouth was dry and my eyes burned. The memory of the vision I’d had while in hospital filled me and I was rendered completely mute.
“Sorry,” she mumbled before picking up her bag.
The flight attendant helped her stow it away securely and then tossed mine in too. Although I’d stood up, I still couldn’t move or think enough to offer any further assistance. I watched as she slid into the seat closest to the window. I couldn�
�t do this. I couldn’t be stuck next to my past for the better part of a day—or more. Not the way my heart raced and my palms sweated. Not now. Maybe not ever.
“Excuse me,” I asked the attendant as quietly as possible. “Is there any chance of getting another seat?”
“I’m sorry, that’s not policy.”
“Even in economy? Or first?” I begged urgently. “Any seat anywhere else on the plane? I’ll pay extra if I have to.”
She frowned. “I’m sorry. I’m not able to help with that. Now, please take your seat and fasten your seatbelt.”
Fasten my seatbelt is right.
Hours stuck on the plane next to Alyssa fucking Dawson was not a good start to the whole getting her out of my system plan. The worst part was that the way she stared steadfastly out the window, her face a shade of red so bright she would have put a tomato to shame, made it clear she’d heard me asking for another seat.
After I’d sat down, I threw my sunglasses and hat into the storage pocket and then pinched the bridge of my nose before realising that fucking hurt with my still-black eye so I tugged at my hair the way Danny did when he was pissed.
I had no fucking clue how to handle the Alyssa situation. Talk? Don’t talk? Reminisce? Ignore? If someone wrote a book of helpful hints that dealt with running into your ex on an almost day-long flight to another fucking country, I wanted ten copies.
“Alyssa,” I finally murmured in greeting, the feel of her name rough and awkward on my tongue. Even though it was tempting I couldn’t just ignore her, or the giant fucking elephant between us.
Her head shifted almost imperceptibly in my direction and she seemed to be having a similar internal debate. Then she closed her eyes, sighed, and nodded. “Declan.”
Why did my name have to sound so fucking good on those lips?
At that exact moment, the safety announcements started. It provided me with a few precious moments where I could ignore Alyssa without feeling guilty. I’d never been more fucking interested in having an emergency situation before. All too quickly the video was over, and then the uncomfortable silence began as the plane started its run-up for take-off.
Decline (Declan Reede: The Untold Story #1) Page 6