I was borderline catfishing the guy—the glamoured girl in my profile photos was not the same one staring back at me with barbeque chip dust on my chest. Shit. To be fair though, if I was on an actual date, I would have dressed the part. This was the steady relationship, comfortable not showering for three days Ophelia, and Frankie got her right out of the gate. Not that it deterred him in the slightest. I wasn’t sure he even noticed.
I spent another few minutes checking for anything in my teeth and taming the halo of frizz over my forehead, and as I was about to leave, someone knocked on the door.
“Just a minute!”
Another knock.
Oh—no way.
He didn’t actually think the two of us were gonna get each other off in the airplane bathroom? And why didn’t that disgust me as much as it did an hour before?
I pulled the lock and swung the door outward. “I am not having sex with you!”
Expecting Frankie, a bucket of cold water was thrown in my face when the person standing outside was the flight attendant from the cart earlier.
“Are you okay, miss?” she asked skeptically.
“I’m so sorry, I’m fine. I thought—”
Before I could incriminate myself further, the freckle-faced attendant pointed at the blinking red seatbelt sign. “We’re about to hit some mild turbulence. If you could just return to your seat.”
“Of course.” I ducked around her and beelined back to my row, not even caring about the dramatic way I flung myself over Frankie’s lap and into the shadow between his shoulder and the window.
He studied me. “You okay? You look a little flushed.”
“The flight attendant thinks I’m a voyeuristic, polyamorous whore.”
His lips parted and a sliver of pink tongue poked out. “You were gone for like, two minutes, troublemaker.”
“You were supposed to be the one who knocked on the door.”
Dark brown eyes opened wide in surprise, and he pointed at his chest. “Me? You told me loud and clear.” He mimicked my voice. “Alone, Frankie.”
“Wouldn’t be the first time a guy didn’t take no for an answer.” I huffed.
He stared at me as the flush of my skin lessened from crimson to pink. “So should I…” He began unbuckling his seatbelt again, as if he was going to head to the bathroom himself.
“Sit!” I grabbed him by the bicep, feeling every hard ridge of muscle underneath the worn white button-down he had on. “Please, sit. We can’t draw any more attention to ourselves. Let’s just…” I tapped on the touch screen in front of me and started scrolling. “Watch a movie.”
“I don’t know,” he tsked. “With your track record, how do I know you won’t try to fondle me under the airline blanket?”
“Actually? You’re not that funny anymore.”
“But you did think I was funny?”
“No, I take it back. You were never funny.”
“Too late.” He pinched the skin above my elbow playfully, and the second I lifted it off the armrest, his own arm took its place.
“Perfect!” I found the same film title on Frankie’s screen so we could hit play together. “Top Gun. Your favorite movie.”
“Fuck Tom Cruise.” He shook his head. “What an unattainable standard to have as a pilot. And introducing my bedroom to women as ‘my personal cockpit’ never got the reaction I hoped it would.”
Frankie looked genuinely distraught and I tampered a laugh by sinking my teeth into my bottom lip.
“You’re laughing at a man’s pain.”
“Oh come on, be my wingman,” I joked, slapping my palm down right above his knee and shaking it. “Watch Top Gun with me.”
His eyes were on my hand until I drew it back into my lap to untangle my earbuds. “Fuck, fine,” he caved. “The things I do for a date.”
I pumped my fist in celebration while Frankie pulled his own earbuds from his pocket and plugged the auxiliary edge into the armrest.
“My favorite movie is Bridesmaids, by the way,” he said before sticking them in his ears and shimmying into the cushion.
It was seventy-eight degrees and blindingly sunny when the plane landed in Fort Lauderdale. Frankie folded the sleeves of his shirt up to the elbows and undid a few buttons over his chest to acclimate, and suddenly it felt about ninety-five.
Of course the baggage claim, like in any other airport, was no less than three miles from the gate, and Frankie and I walked alongside each other with my snow boots hanging by their laces from the handle of my backpack while he guided us across the sparkling linoleum.
Very unfortunately, the man looked even better off the plane. Long legs and a cute ass that I kept sneaking looks at when his height carried him slightly further ahead of me. Up close he looked older, fine lines starting to crease his forehead, but when I saw him in this light, walking happily beside me, pointing out the different tourist attractions I might want to see and which ones he’d been kicked out of as a teenager—he was youthful still. Like a big kid in a very attractive older man’s body.
When we finally hit baggage claim I took the time to check my phone and update my parents. Nat had texted me as soon as the flight landed.
Nat babyyyy: You’re here!!!!! Waiting for you out in pickup. I have to keep circling, this bitch at the door is giving me the side-eye every time I try to park in the fire lane.
Ophelia: Grabbing my bag now. I had the craziest fucking thing happen to me on my flight.
Nat babyyyy: Tell me everything when you get in the car, hurry up!!!
Ophelia: Hurrying!!!
I shoved my phone in my pocket and watched the bags spin, spotting mine speckled in white polka dots coming toward me. I reached out to grab it, but Frankie pulled the handle and hauled it off the belt first.
“Thanks.” I smiled as he stood next to me with his own suitcase. “Looks like the world’s most insane Hook（Up） date has officially ended.”
“It’d be hard to top that, I agree.” He grinned back.
We still remained awkwardly idle as the crowd moved around us. If I could hear my nervous pulse thumping I’m sure he could too.
“Well, my ride’s here waiting outside. So I probably shouldn’t keep her.” I sounded like I was asking for approval to leave more than telling him I was.
“Okay,” he said softly, eyes roaming down my face like he was memorizing it.
“Okay…” I replied, slowly backing toward the rotating glass doors. “You’ve got my, uh…” He had my dating profile, which seemed appropriate. “You know,” I finished sheepishly.
Frankie nodded, pulling his hat off to rake his fingers through his messy locks. “And you’ve got mine.”
The humid Floridian air hit me square in the chest as soon as I stepped outside. It smelled like sand and salt, and the sun was just falling below the horizon, bathing the sky in vibrant purple and neon fire.
I spotted Nat in her car immediately, the nose of her yellow Jeep wedged between two waiting cabs and a barrage of horns beeping behind her. “The night awaits us!” she yelled, leaning over to push the passenger door open for me.
I shook my head, laughing as a smile dimpled my cheeks. Christmas in Coconut Creek wasn’t looking too bad at all.