The Distance Between Us

jokes.
    Maybe I should just ask him, straight out. What does your girlfriend think of me? That’s a fair question. “Xander?”
    “Yes?”
    “What . . .”
    He puts his phone down and gives me his full attention.
    “What are you doing on your phone? Words With Friends or something?” I’m such a wimp. Once it’s out in the open, maybe he’ll start treating me like he has a girlfriend.
    And that’s not what I want. This is a problem.
    He laughs a little. “No. I’m looking at some proposals for the website before I lose my connection. I’m sorry, though. I’ll get off. I’m being rude.”
    “No. It’s fine.” The engines outside the window start up and I go tense.
    He puts his phone away and grabs hold of my ankle. “The worst part is taking off. Once we’re in the sky it’s painless.”
    “What about landing?”
    “Okay, the second worst part is taking off.”
    The cabin lights dim and the plane lurches forward, heading toward the runway. Xander’s thumb draws patterns around my ankle. I should be nervous about the plane, but all the nerve endings in my leg are buzzing with his touch. I watch the lights go by as the plane picks up speed, then close my eyes as the pressure of the takeoff pushes me back against the seat. As we level off in the air I relax.
    He releases my ankle. “See. Easy as can be.”
    “Now we just have to land.”
    “Exactly.”
    I look around. “There are bathrooms on planes, right? That’s not just in the movies?”
    He points behind me. When I stand and start to move past him the plane hits some turbulence and sends me off balance. I catch myself on Xander’s shoulders.
    “I pay them well to do that at just the right time,” he says. His not-flirting is really irritating.
    I am inches from being in his lap. I’d just have to relax my legs a little and I’d be sitting on him. The temptation to do just that is very real. He steadies me with a hand to my waist, only he doesn’t push to help me back up. He just leaves it there against my waist and meets my eyes.
    Now my throat is tight for different reasons. And then the plane jerks again, and it might have been my imagination, or my weak legs, but I could’ve sworn that instead of bracing me with that hand on my waist, he actually pulled me forward. Because now I am in his lap, my hands still on his shoulders.
    “Hi,” he says.
    “Sorry.”
    “For what?”
    “For the fact that you are such a big flirt.”
    He laughs. “You’re the one in my lap. I was just sitting here minding my own business.”
    “Just the plane, then?”
    “Of course.”
    I try to stand up, but he pulls me back down again.
    “Man, the plane is really bumpy today,” he says.
    “Funny.” Only it’s not funny at all. A surge of anger goes through me. He has a girlfriend and he is a huge flirt. I don’t want to be the dirty little secret. If that’s what he thinks I am, he has another thing coming. “Let me up.”
    He must sense the seriousness that has taken over my voice because this time he helps me stand. I shut myself in the bathroom long enough to regain my composure. After tonight I need to be done with Xander Spence. I say it in my head and then again out loud to the mirror. “I am done with Xander Spence.” I’m so convincing that I almost believe myself.
    I return to my seat.
    “Are you cold? Hot? Hungry?” he asks.
    “No, I’m good.”
    “The seat leans back if you want to sleep or anything.”
    “Is this a long flight?”
    “No, about an hour.”
    I can’t figure out how far an hour will take us from our current location. In a car that wouldn’t get us past Oakland, but in the air it’s different.
    “Any conclusions?” he asks.
    “What?”
    “Have you figured out where we’re going based on your amazing observation skills?”
    “No.” It bothers me that he knows me well enough to know I was evaluating that very thing. I lean my seat back and pretend to sleep the rest of the flight. Due to my newfound determination I have to suffer the landing without his help.
     
    “That’s my brother,” he says, pointing to the guy waving at us as we exit the plane onto the tarmac. I turn around and try to get back on the plane. “Oh stop,” he says, grabbing my hand. “You’ll like him.”
    “Lucas.” They embrace with a single pat to the back. “This is Caymen Meyers.”
    Lucas turns to me and shakes my hand, a sincerity in his smile. And that’s the other thing that’s weirding me out. Friend or