First Class (Calum Hood)

2 - dimmed lights

Cocktails in hand, Calum and I continued to chat while the rest of the plane finished boarding. Honestly, I forgot we were on a plane because my brain turned off everything that wasn't his voice or cute mannerisms.

"So are you going home?" I ask him.

"Technically California is home now, but I need to get away so I'm going to stay with my parents for a bit. It's been way too long since I took a good break," he tells me a bit cryptically. I can tell he doesn't really want to disclose what he needs to get away from.

"Going home-home is the best," I responded, trying to respect his boundaries. "No matter how far away I move, I will never feel more comfortable than I do when I visit my parents in our little hometown. Hopefully you'll feel that peace you're looking for."

"Are you living in LA, too?" He asked and I couldn't help but laugh.

"Ha, I wouldn't fit in at all. I just had a connecting flight through here, I live in Charlotte, North Carolina, which is a way smaller city. I'm originally from a tiny town in Indiana though, so it is big enough for me."

"You're not missing much here, trust me. It's hard to find real friends and the traffic sucks. I've been to North Carolina a bunch of times, it's nice."

"Do you travel for work a lot?" I ask, curious as to why.

"Yeah," he hesitates, as if he's looking for an easy way to explain his job. "I work in music, so I have to travel with bands sometimes."

"Oh that's awesome! What kind-" I am cut off by the flight attendants starting their safety speech.

I see Calum pull out his phone, so I assume it's' time for the usual 'ignore the person next you' plane etiquette to ensue. I grab my phone and airpods out of my bag and scroll though Spotify to see which playlist I'm going to drain first.

"What kind of music qualifies for the 'vibes if the plane is going down' playlist?" Calum snickers next to me.

"Don't tell me that you're a screen snooper. Nobody wants to sit next to a screen snooper," I laugh. "But if you must know, I'd want to listen to Born to Run by Bruce Springsteen if I'm being hurled into the ocean."

"I promise to not screen snoop anymore, I was just curious what your taste in music was. You passed."

"I passed? What the hell does that mean."

"I'd much rather hang out with a girl that listens to Bruce Springsteen over top 100."

"As long as it turns you into a plane chatter, I'll take that as a win. What kind of musicians do you usually work with, anyways?"

"I write with my best friends, which usually doesn't fit into a genre like pop or rock or alternative, somewhere in the middle. Whatever we like and other people like to listen to." Okay so that was the most cryptic answer he could have given. I catch the vibe he doesn't want to share too much, but I can't help but be more curious.

"Anything that I would know?" I ask, even though I know he's avoiding disclosing any big names.

"I recently wrote a few songs with the Chainsmokers and Julia Michaels," he discloses.

"Oh, that's sick. I don't listen to them much, but I saw the Chainsmokers at a music festival one time and they were great," I tell him, leaving out the part that I was camping out front row to drool over Matty Healy later in the day. It was a pre-Taylor Swift drama, so don't judge.

We spend a few more minutes talking about our favorite songs and the best and worst concerts we've ever seen - which I'm still so surprised he's seen One Direction live. We both have smiles on our faces when certain songs we both love come up. His smile is so beautiful. In the middle of our conversation, the flight attendants start to dim the lights in the cabin.

"I guess that's their polite way of telling us to shut up," he whispers to me.

"It would probably be smart for us to try and get some sleep so we're not dead when we land at 7 am tomorrow," I whisper back.

Calum nods and starts to move his seat into the laying down position. I try to watch what he's doing, but I can't figure out where the handles are.

"Hey first class veteran, can you help me?" I whisper after giving up.

"Sure, but sorry if I invade your personal space in the process," he laughs as he shifts toward my seat. He leans over me, our faces inches away from each other as his arm reaches for the levers on my far side. I can't think, say, or do anything with his hot breath on my neck. He finds what he's looking for, as I feel myself shift backward quickly. I hold back a squeal from the surprise as my body flies down with the seat. "Sorry, usually I have more finesse," he laughs as he leans back over into his seat.

"Thanks for your help," I managed to get out as I looked up at him.

"Anytime, sweet dreams," he bids goodbye as he lays down in his seat next to me. How am I expected to sleep restfully when there's an attractive, sweet, funny Australian laying next to me?