Destination Reached

SOPHIA

I was jerked forward in my seat, and my eyes flew open in a flash.

"Ow," I muttered, blinking. Had I really fallen asleep? I usually wasn't comfortable enough to-

"Uh- hi."

Then I registered where I had been resting. Or more accurately, who I had been resting upon. I sat straight up, cheeks burning. Oh my god. I could not believe myself. I had been sleeping on him?! Oh god what if I snored? Or worse, drooled. Was that worse? They were both bad. Why me? Why me?!

"I am so sorry," I stammered out in a rush, praying my face wasn't a giant tomato. "I don't normally- I am so sorry."

He shrugged, "You didn't drool or snore." It was like he could read my mind. Creepy.

"I didn't mind."

"Well- thank you," I said, swallowing hard. What else was I supposed to say? My mouth felt dry. God this was embarrassing. It should be illegal for one person to be so embarrassing. "How long was I out for?" I asked. Maybe we were almost there. Maybe we were about to land and this nightmare would end.

"Not long," he replied.

Well, damn it. I did my best not to look him in the eye. They were sort of pretty, actually, his eyes. Now that I could see them up close. A kind of hazel green color, with tiny gold flecks dotting the iris. He had long lashes too, like a puppy dog. Wait— why was I focused on his eyelashes? I had been silent for way too long. I hope he didn't catch me staring. He probably thought I was weird enough already. God— how on earth was I going to get through this flight? I could not survive ten hours more of this.

There was another bump of the aircraft, my seat rattling beneath me. Then again, maybe I wouldn't even make it ten more hours. My heartbeat thudded loudly in my chest. I'd always been a little afraid of flying, especially over water. I didn't dare glance out the window, and I felt my stomach drop as the plane shook back and forth like a ping pong ball.

Without thinking, my hand shot out to grip the armrest between the two seats. It was an instinct, to ground myself. A security measure to feel more stable. However, my instincts had failed to realize that someone's hand was already occupying the shared arm rest.

My fingers brushed his, and my cheeks burned bright red for the second time in five minutes. You've got to be freakin kidding me.

"Sorry— again," I apologized, heavily resisting the urge to smack myself upside the head. How idiotic could I get? All I wanted was to not draw attention to myself. Obviously the universe had decided to spite me today. "I didn't mean to— planes make me kinda...jumpy."

He merely smiled, seemingly unaffected, "That's alright. I think we all have a healthy fear of planes."

"Is that so?"

"Yeah," he nodded, continuing, "flying is one of those things that we can never truly master. A lot of it's left up to fate. Mother Nature really, and I think that as humans we hate that feeling of being out of control."

I think my jaw fell open a little. You could have knocked me over with a feather. Never in a million years did I think any of those words would come out of that mouth. I had imagined that when he spoke it was only in a variety of "bros" "whassups" and sports references. But— that was the most well articulated idea about why people don't like airplanes I've ever heard. It made so much sense too. Who was this guy? I was stunned. He was still talking about his theory.

"And—," he paused, evidently noticing my poorly concealed surprise, "what?"

"Um— nothing."